Storm Called

by Susan Copperfield

  I regretted tackling his office as my first conquest, and I hadn’t even survived my first shift. Returning to my new office, I stole every clothing bag I could get my hands on and laid them out in the hallway, hoping the plastic would protect the electronics from the still-damp carpet. As the Tech Menace had papers scattered on the floor with his electronics, I sacrificed the papers as additional protection for the electronics. Muttering curses, I stole a blank pad of paper from Elana’s desk, made a list of tasks I needed to do, and organized them by general toxicity.

  Once I had employees listed by their toxicity ratings, I left a note in each office warning the occupant which day I’d be tackling their space.

  Then I returned to the Tech Menace’s office, finished shoveling it out, and washed the carpets. His electronics, with the help of my new cart, went into my office until the floors could dry. At seven in the morning, I acknowledged general defeat. The Tech Menace’s desk would have to wait until my next shift, and I’d have to hurry through my next target’s disaster to get everything done on time.

  I put away my cleaning supplies and checked the kitchen, a task I’d avoided. I should’ve guessed a disaster waited for me. While Elana had pointed where the kitchen was at, she’d focused her tour on the offices. I understood why. Someone had turned the kitchen upside down, dumping everything out of the cabinets onto mountainous piles on the counter. I twitched, especially at the pile of dirty dishes clogging the sink.

  Assuming I could force myself to move and stop gaping in horror at the man-made disaster, I could detoxify the critical problems in an hour. Assuming the dishwasher worked. Assuming the sink wasn’t actually clogged. Assuming I could reach the sink. Assuming the clutter hadn’t developed sentience since it’d been last handled.

  If the kitchen had been in a similar state all along, I could tell them what was making them sick without needing any lab results. I wanted to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but I’d seen their offices. Was it possible to train the elites working in the building to follow basic hygiene rules?

  “Oh!” Elana stepped to my side. “You’re still here. Ah. Yeah. They made a mess getting samples yesterday. I’m sorry. I forgot to warn you.”

  “I’ll take care of this tonight,” I swore.

  “Don’t worry about it. We have a crew coming in today to replace the dishwasher, bring in boxes of new dishes, and anything else they think we need. I’ll make sure it’s shoveled out.”

  I sucked in a breath between my clenched teeth, reminding myself I couldn’t afford to lose my temper. “All right. Don’t be alarmed that the carpet in some of the hallways changed colors.”

  “The carpet changed colors?”

  “It’s been a while since someone washed it properly with a clean machine.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Honestly, I’d get a new wet vac machine. The one you have is older, it hasn’t been taken care of, and is half the reason the carpet changed colors in the first place.”

  “You’re really serious?”

  I fought my urge to laugh and led her to the nearest hallway I’d washed. She gaped and spluttered. “I have made a schedule to tidy offices and do a full cleaning of the floors. I did Mr. Darmill’s office already.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one who liked leaving parts of things on his floor. Those parts are temporarily in my office, and they’ll be returned when the carpet dries. Does he even work?”

  “No one knows,” she admitted.

  “I’ll be back tonight. If anyone comes in with mucky shoes, ask them to clean the soles off in the kitchen, please.”

  “Maybe I should order slippers or ask everyone to bring in office shoes.”

  I wouldn’t count on a miracle but I’d consider slippers or office shoes to be one. “If you could, that would be great.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Have a good day, Mr. Laycal.”

  “Call me Pat, please.”

  “Very well. I’ll see you tonight, Pat.”

  I escaped while I could.

  I needed sleep, but instead of heading home, I shopped. If Princess Jessica showed up again, I needed to make certain she had food she could smuggle around in her purse. I also needed enough to feed both of us, and I gave it a few days before she tired of yams and chicken. Until I got used to the night shift, I foresaw a lot of days of yams and chicken ahead of me.

  I needed to cook what I knew was safe for the princess until I could figure out what had made her sick.

  Of the available options, I suspected a contaminated food source coupled with stress, but I wouldn’t assume someone wasn’t targeting her. If there was evidence of contamination in foods meant for the elite, my life would become easier. The source would be handled, and Princess Jessica would be able to return to her normal life without fear.

  I wanted her to feel safe.

  I, for some unfathomable reason, also wanted her company. While she had the reputation of being standoffish and prickly, the real woman was more like a still and deep pond. She could drown me, but just beneath the surface, she was everything other than what the world believed. How much of her reputation was due to the world she lived in?

  No, I didn’t believe in any of the rumored malice. A tired, frightened woman had visited me, not a cruel ice princess destined to rule Texas. When needed, I had no doubt she’d become as sharp as any sword. But like everyone else, she wore masks.

  Who was Princess Jessica?

  I worried she would haunt me for years to come. A wiser man would’ve turned and walked away. I shopped, buying healthy snacks and vitamins to help stem the tide of malnutrition. I doubted she’d appreciate the bottles of vegetable juice I’d foist on her, pressuring until she drank the entire damned thing.

  Shaking from exhaustion, I trudged home, annoyed over how I’d left my casual clothes at the office and willfully ignoring that I couldn’t carry anything else even if I wanted to. Any other day, I would’ve juggled everything while fighting with my keys, but even after setting everything down, the lock gave me trouble.

  Princess Jessica lounged on my couch reading one of my books, and I worried for my sanity. Yet, despite the insanity of royalty relaxing in my home, I liked it.

  I wondered if my reaction to the princess was what my father meant when he claimed he loved nothing more than going home to Mom.

  “You’re back! I was worried I’d miss you today. I snatched breakfast from a fast-food joint on the way here. I have to head to the ranch in twenty minutes, but I escaped, claiming I needed some fresh air before I shocked someone.”

  “And they actually let you out alone?”

  “Well, no. A pair of agents followed. I shocked them, then I grabbed a taxi, had them drop me off a few blocks away, and walked the rest of the way here.”

  I had a sneaky, ruthless woman on my hands, and I doubted I could handle her. Ferrying the groceries in, I set everything down and fetched a bottle of vegetable juice. “Well done. Drink all of this. It’ll help. Also, I got you vitamins to help counter malnutrition. Did you bring a purse with you?”

  Princess Jessica held up a monster of a leather bag. “Go big or go home, right?”

  “Perfect. Since you’re already going to convenience stores, grab a bottle of vegetable juice whenever you can.”

  “Healthy liquid calories?”

  “Exactly. Has anyone else gotten sick since yesterday?”

  She nodded.

  That supported my theory of a contaminated food supply, although until I got a chance to review the symptom list, I wouldn’t know for sure what sort of contamination it was. E-coli and salmonella would’ve been discovered early; doctors knew how to test for the bacteria. “I’m looking into the situation as I can. Please keep an eye on anyone who gets sick and what their symptoms are.”

  “I already made a list. I can email it to you. Or text you a picture?”

  “Got it with you?”

  She nodded and pulled out her phone. While she did
that, I unloaded her new snacks onto the coffee table, leaving enough space for a notepad. It didn’t take long to copy her list from her phone. The king had gotten ill twice, but the queen’s state worried me.

  I didn’t think the queen was just getting sick from food; cancer often led to symptoms similar to food poisoning. I’d seen it too many times growing up watching my parents’ friends waste away, unable to afford the treatments required to save their lives.

  The queen had faced cancer once already, and the battle had left her unable to have any more children.

  I’d always believed, until she’d gotten sick, royalty couldn’t get sick like the rest of us.

  “If it’s a food supply issue, there is a chance it’ll make it to the lower markets,” I warned.

  “So far it hasn’t.”

  “Right. If it does, we’ll worry about it then.” Treating the bottle of vegetable juice like a challenge, she opened it and chugged, gasping for breath after downing the entire thing. “In a pinch, going to a store and grabbing vegetable juice will work?”

  “Check the safety seal and turn the bottle upside down to check for leaks before you buy. I’d also avoid going to the same stores twice in a row. Mix it up and keep it as random as you can.”

  Jessica pointed at the pile of snacks on the coffee table. “I can do that. I’m going to be really busy tomorrow. Do you think this’ll suffice?”

  “They’re healthy enough, so yes. If you start shaking, vegetable juice can help.” I set a second bottle of the juice on the table. “Take this one with you if it’ll fit.”

  The princess giggled, and sure enough, her monstrous leather bag was able to fit the bottle and her collection of snacks and vitamins in it. “Okay. This should work, then.” She checked the time and sighed. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now. I’ll try to come by around noon the day after tomorrow if you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  The princess slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door, pausing long enough to kiss my cheek. “You’re the best, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  Long after she’d left, closing and locking the door behind her, I stared, at a complete loss over what had happened and why.

  I was a nobody.

  She was a princess.

  Our paths never should have crossed in the first place, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the warmth of her breath or the gentle press of her lips against my skin.

  I was in way over my head, but for one moment in time, I’d somehow roped the wind, and just like expected, she’d taken my peace of mind with her when she’d blown out the door.

  Chapter Six

  Until I contained the disaster on the executive floor of Sundale Reserves Industries, I doubted I’d have time to breathe. I slept when I could, and instead of spending the time cooking, I pulled the same tricks Princess Jessica used to make extra time in the day.

  In the meantime, I’d cook to her schedule, and I’d make sure she tried to give me some warning if she thought she’d come over. I only needed to last a few weeks before the chaos settled to manageable levels. I’d be tired, I’d need to watch what I ate for a while after, but I could handle it.

  How hard could it be?

  I worried about the mess waiting for me at work through my cooking class, which ended up being a rehash of general kitchen safety rules because someone had severely cut their finger being an irresponsible idiot. In good news, a bone surgeon with the right healing talent would be able to repair the damage. Eventually.

  In bad news, the kitchen needed to be sanitized, and the entire class got to help do it. The school called it a preventative safety reminder.

  I called it hell.

  Instead of learning how to feed busy elites incapable of taking care of themselves without an intervention, I scrubbed floors. As a member of the lowest caste, I got the jobs the rest of the class couldn’t figure out without a great deal of help. Worse, I seemed to be the only person who had half a clue what was going on.

  The floors would pass inspection.

  The rest of the kitchen wouldn’t. My instructor took pity, checked the floors first, and dismissed me at the beginning of the inspection. I lost ten minutes changing into a clean suit before bolting for work.

  The thumps of construction in progress greeted me when I stepped out of the elevator. Elana waved. “Good evening. Mr. Hemmington just left, but he asked me to tell you that he’s taking care of the kitchen problem. He wants you to make a list of catering services you think are safe for the next week.”

  Something crashed in the general direction of the kitchen. “He solved the problem by replacing the kitchen, didn’t he?”

  “You’ll have a really nice kitchen to work with, and Mr. Hemmington wanted a better model of fridge and freezer, so you’ll get to keep the pair in your office, too. It’ll have key-code entry so we’ll know who accessed the units and when.”

  “That’ll be useful.”

  “Just wait until you see the security set up he wants. There’ll be cameras in the fridge, freezer, and cupboards. If someone in our office is poisoning people, he wants to know how, but he thinks your theory about a tainted food supply for the upper castes is correct. We’re not the only company with sick employees.”

  “Any news from the labs?”

  “One culprit has been identified: saponin. I don’t know what that is,” she admitted.

  I did; many foods could be toxic if the wrong species or part of the plant was consumed. In the case of the asparagus fern, the ripe berries, which contained saponin, could cause illness. But how would the berries have been introduced to the food supply? The unwitting might not realize the difference between the edible asparagus shoots and the toxic variants or berries. As the berries could be mistaken for edible ones, it’d be trivial to have them contaminate fresh foods.

  “Asparagus. If you let it grow into a fern, the ripe berries are toxic. Saponin is the toxin in the berries.”

  “We’re being poisoned with asparagus?” Elana blurted.

  “Yeah. I didn’t see that one coming, either. It’s possible the saponin is from something else, but that’s the first thing to come to mind. Did they tell you what food was contaminated with it?”

  “I wasn’t told.”

  I’d never tasted any of the berries as I didn’t want to poison myself, although I could have gotten away with a nibble without becoming too ill, if I remembered correctly. “I’ll look into it. Anything else from the labs?”

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know if anything else is found.”

  “All right. Anything you need from me before I get to work?”

  “The Darmills are working tonight, but they should be leaving in a few hours. I’d avoid their offices if possible. I was asked to tell you to leave any garbage in the reception. Someone will come by at six to dispose of it.”

  “Will do.”

  “Have yourself a great night, Pat. If you need me for anything, you can find my number on my desk.”

  I got to work while wondering what sort of bastard would poison people with asparagus and why—or if it was something as simple as an ignorant idiot unaware not all parts of a plant could necessarily be consumed.

  I cleaned like a fiend, desperate to avoid fixating on the possibility someone was using asparagus berries to poison people. It didn’t work. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became, and I took my temper out on my work. The extra effort I invested in scrubbing wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  Asparagus berries probably wouldn’t kill anyone, but it would make the victim miserable. Had I been sickened, I would’ve worried, too. I assumed no one had died; the media liked to report on food-related deaths. Perhaps fear was part of the reason the media wasn’t reporting. The symptoms of saponin poisoning could be mistaken for the bacterias capable of killing people. It wouldn’t take much to turn fear and uncertainty into terror.

  Someone had found a way to poison them, and it wou
ldn’t take much to transform a nuisance into something truly dangerous. When would a sickening but relatively harmless berry become something lethal? Even plants like tomatoes and potatoes could, with refinement and knowledge, be turned into something dangerous.

  Even if I figured out who was behind the saponin contamination and why, I couldn’t do anything about it. Mostly.

  If I found the source, I could notify Elana, which would let Sundale Reserves Industries handle the matter.

  Anger over my impotence helped with my cleaning. I took my temper out on the stained carpets, the baseboards in dire need of care, and the first wave of offices in dire need of a decluttering. I couldn’t fix the food supply, but I could restore the executive floor to order and detoxify the offices.

  When Elana had told me to put the trash in the reception, I doubted she’d meant for me to fill it with black bags piled waist high. Remedial classes on cleanliness would happen even if I had to stealthily place trash cans at the common dumping sites. How could anyone in the company work without going insane from being surrounded by filth?

  As directed, I avoided the Darmill brothers and escaped work before the trash was scheduled for pickup. I left my casual clothes in my office and took my briefcase, heading to the one place I never thought I’d go.

  The grocery stores meant for the elite were normally out of my price range, but my new office ID card gave me the clout I needed to shop in them. The suit helped trick people into believing I belonged among them, too.

  In my caste, mass produced and prepackaged foods reigned. A culinary playground waited for me inside, and I headed or the fresh produce section to check its offerings. To give myself purpose, and a treat, I selected a mango as my reward for stepping outside of my comfort zone.