Enchanted, Inc

by Shanna Swendson

  "He just needs a little confidence."

  Rod shook his head. "No, he's better off as he is. In fact, I think they brought him up to be shy on purpose. As powerful as he is, you don't want him to be bold."

  That sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could ask Rod to clarify, we'd reached another doorway. "This is P and L, the Prophets and Lost department," he said as the door opened.

  "Profits and loss?" I asked. That sounded more like a spreadsheet than a department.

  "No, Prophets and Lost. This is where we predict the market trends or trace things that seem to have disappeared."

  "Like Elvis!" I quipped.

  "Exactly!" He didn't sound like he was joking. He ushered me into the office suite, which was decorated like something out of a Gypsy's tent at an old-fashioned carnival. "Hi, everyone!" he said to the dreamy-looking bunch of people who sat around on the velvet cushions. "This is Katie, she's new in Verification."

  An elegant woman dressed right out of a fashion magazine—next year's fashion magazine, or what I imagined next fall's clothes would look like if current trends progressed—looked up at me. "Take the bus home this evening," she said.

  I blinked. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks. Nice meeting you." I'm sure the bus warning was important, but couldn't she have clued me in to hemlines as well? I'd hate to hem all my skirts, only to find out we'd be wearing them longer next season.

  Gemma would kill for that kind of foresight.

  Rod ushered me back outside. "Don't let them get to you. It's company policy that you're not supposed to ask them about things like lottery numbers or the outcomes of sporting events, but if they tell you something spontaneously, it's generally a good idea to take them at their word."

  "Okay. I'll take the bus, then."

  He paused in the middle of the hallway, rubbing his hands together while he frowned in thought. "Let's see, you've already met Sam in Security—he's been talking about you for days. I think he has a bit of a crush. What else do I need to show you?"

  I tried not to think about a stone gargoyle having a crush on me. How scary would it be if it turned out that was the type I attracted? Instead, I focused on Rod's question. "How about my office? And all that important little stuff like the coffee room, the bathroom, and such?"

  "We'll deal with that this afternoon. Unless you need the bathroom now?" I shook my head. "Okay, then we'd better get you up to see the boss."

  "That's Mr. Mervyn, right?" I asked, remembering the name Owen had used. "He was the one at the interview?"

  "Yep, that's the one. And let me tell you, you made quite an impression on him." We reached what appeared to be one of the building's turrets, with a long spiral staircase leading upward. I'd barely had a chance to start dreading climbing those stairs when Rod tapped the staircase's center post and the stairs began moving upward, like an escalator.

  "Magic?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "No, mechanics. This is new. The boss likes to tinker, and he hates climbing stairs. He thought this was far more interesting than an elevator. I suspect there was some magic involved in the invention, however."

  We stepped onto the spiraling escalator, which deposited us in a lush office suite.

  There was a reception area with a fairy hovering over a chair behind a giant mahogany desk. Behind her was a pair of ornate wooden doors, and off to the side there appeared to be another office. "Oh, good, you're here," she said as we approached. "He's been expecting her."

  The doors swung open and we stepped into the boss's office. It looked like pretty much every CEO's office I'd ever seen—not that I'd seen a lot—with fancy furniture, thick carpets, and elegant artwork on the walls. I got the impression, however, that this furniture was really antique and not a modem reproduction. The far wall was all windows overlooking City Hall and the park, while the adjacent wall had a nice view of the Brooklyn Bridge.

  I shouldn't have felt intimidated about meeting the boss, but I did. My dad was CEO

  at the store, but he was just Dad. I'd never met the CEO at my last job. The newspapers painted portraits of extremely wealthy, powerful men who'd never notice a low-level flunky like me. I suddenly felt like a kid called into the principal's office. I wondered if I should bow or curtsy. From what I'd heard about some chief executives, falling on my face on the floor and chanting "I'm not worthy" wouldn't be out of the question.

  The distinguished gentleman who'd held court during my job interview came around his desk to greet us. "My dear Miss Chandler," he said, taking both my hands in his.

  He then looked up at Rod. "Thank you, Rodney, for bringing her here. I'll see you at lunch." Rod looked stung by the dismissal, but he nodded and left. The doors shut behind him. "Please, have a seat." He led me toward a sofa that was angled to have a nice view through either window.

  "I'm glad you decided to join us, although I knew you would," he said. There was a ring of certainty to his voice that said he really had known I'd take the job, not because he'd guessed it or because he knew how I'd react, but because he'd seen it.

  Now I remembered what Rod had said about precogs.

  "The offer came along just at the time I needed it," I said.

  "And you came along at just the time we needed you. It worked out for everybody."

  His smile was warm and genuine, which made him less intimidating to me. "I must apologize for the rather abrupt way in which we've introduced you to our company, and I hope to rectify that with you this morning. First of all, I've been remiss in not introducing myself. My name in modern English is Ambrose Mervyn, and I'm the chief executive officer of Magic, Spells, and Illusions, Inc. I held that position a very long time ago, then retired. Recently, I came out of retirement to take up my old position and help steer the company through some challenging times."

  "I guess the economy sucked even for magical people," I said with a knowing nod, even as I tried to figure out what he might have meant in making a point of saying that his name was the modern English version.

  "Yes, I suppose it has," he said, sounding like he'd just realized that. Now I wondered what he'd really meant.

  "As a result, I'm getting reacquainted with the company, just at the same time you're learning about it. Things have changed a great deal since my day." His voice grew distant and wistful. I imagined he had a vacation house in Vermont that he'd had to abandon. "The company's grown considerably and moved its operations to the New World, which is something of an adjustment for me." Strike the vacation house in Vermont, move it to the Cotswolds. But this operation didn't look recent. It had been in New York for at least a century, from the looks of things. I decided not to think too much about it, for it was enough to give me a headache.

  "My role has changed as well," he continued. "In my day, we weren't quite so businesslike. Our focus was more on what they call research and development now."

  Which explained his apparent fondness for Owen. He knew and understood what Owen did, while personnel would be a foreign concept to him. How old was he anyway?

  "As a result, I'm not sure how many of your questions I'll be able to answer, but feel free to ask them at any time. In the meantime, I'd like to learn more about you."

  "What would you like to know?"

  "Just tell me about yourself."

  "Okay, well, I'm from Texas, which you already knew, since we talked about it during the interview." I wondered for a second if I should explain where Texas was, but he was bound to know that much, even if he wasn't American. At least, he could look it up. "I lived in a small town, way out in the middle of nowhere. My family runs a business there for farmers, selling farm supplies like seed, fertilizer, and food for the farm animals." He smiled, and it looked like he truly understood what I was talking about.

  "I worked in the store from the time I was little bitty, and as my folks didn't have much of a head for business, no matter how much they knew about farming, I ended up more or less running the place. Then I went to college to study business so I'd really
know what I was doing, and I came back home to get things in order. All my friends from school came up to New York. It was something they'd been planning for a while. They figured that it was the best time to do something like that, before they got settled in anywhere else. But I knew my folks needed me."

  "You're a very dutiful daughter," he said with a solemn nod.

  "Sort of. Last year, one of my friends got married, so they had an empty spot in their apartment. I came up for the wedding, and they talked me into moving here for good. My parents weren't crazy about that, but I had the systems all in place to run the store. It just felt like my last chance to get out of there and really make something of myself, so I did it. And, here I am."

  "I imagine it was an adjustment for you."

  "Oh, in a big way. It would have been, no matter what, but then there were all those weird things I kept seeing. To tell you the truth, I just thought that was New York, but nobody else seemed to notice, so I figured I was still a small-town hick."

  "No, you have a very special perspective on the world. Don't lose that perspective, Katie. Now, how do you like New York?"

  "I love it. I get homesick sometimes, but here I feel alive. There's so much going on, it makes my life seem fuller, somehow. I feel like I'm getting more living into each day than I ever could have back home."

  "You don't find it frightening and noisy?"

  "Noisy yes, but not really frightening."

  He gave me a smile that reminded me of Owen in his more bashful mode and said softly, "Sometimes I find it frightening. It's been difficult for me to adjust, even with the spells Owen prepared for me."

  "You just need someone to show you around, get you settled in. That's what my friends did for me."

  He nodded. "That is a very wise suggestion, Katie Chandler."

  I didn't know if it would count as sucking up to the boss, but I took a deep breath and said, "If you like, I could show you around some. Maybe we could go out to lunch one day and walk around."

  He looked genuinely pleased. "Yes, I would like that. Now, we have an appointment for lunch. You need to meet the rest of the executive staff."

  I got the impression that it hadn't just been the usual recruitment talk when they told me that I was important. At my last job I'd been introduced to my coworkers, and that was it. But here I'd been introduced to everyone but my coworkers. Maybe it had something to do with me learning about how magic worked and what the company did. If I was going to help them figure out what was for real, I'd need that.

  It was still odd.

  He stood and extended a hand to help me up, then tucked my arm through his and escorted me out of the office. We went back down the spiral escalator—he seemed pleased when I complimented him about it—and down more stairs and more hallways until we were back at the big conference room where they'd interviewed me.

  I'd have to invest in a GPS tracker to find my way around this place.

  The same people who'd been at my interview were there, gathered around the table.

  There was an empty place setting in front of each seat. Mr. Mervyn sat me at his left hand. Owen sat at his right. Food appeared from thin air, and as everyone ate, Mr.

  Mervyn introduced me. 1 had to alternate eating with answering questions about myself. It was more strenuous than the job interview.

  After the meeting, Rod walked me out of the conference room. "Don't worry about that interrogation," he said. "They just need to get comfortable with you so they'll know you for verification jobs. Now we'll get more into the day-to-day stuff. Let's get your things, then we'll go to your new office."

  I got my purse and briefcase, then we went up another flight of stairs and down a hallway to a suite marked verification.

  "I don't suppose you've got a map," I asked. I wasn't sure I'd be able to find my office without help the next morning.

  "Don't worry, we'll take care of you," he said as the doors opened into the verification department, my new home away from home.

  For the first time that day, I wondered if I'd made the right decision.

  seven

  As magical as everything else I'd seen so far at MSI was, this department was about as drab as any office I'd ever been in. It was an open-plan office, without even the privacy of a cubicle, just desks lined up in rows. The cube in my old office looked palatial in comparison.

  The desks were almost bare, with just phones on them, no computers. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen a desk without a computer on it. There was a larger desk at the head of the room, and that desk held a computer, a phone, and one of those crystal ball thingies that seemed to serve as a company intercom. Behind that desk sat a balding man with a bristly mustache.

  "Gregor, here's your fresh face," Rod called out. Gregor looked up from his crystal ball and glowered at us. "About time," he muttered.

  "She was meeting with the big boss. You know how that goes." Rod turned to me.

  "Gregor manages the verification department. You'll be working under him."

  Gregor got up and came around his desk to shake my hand. He wasn't much taller than I was, and he had a spare tire around his middle. He didn't look particularly thrilled to see me, but I couldn't tell if that was just his usual personality or if he had taken a dislike to me already. "We needed another person in here," he said gruffly.

  "We're up to our eyeballs these days."

  The other people in the office didn't seem all that overworked. A middle-aged man who looked like the sort of person you meet at a Star Trek convention—not that I'd know that firsthand—sat at the desk to the far right, reading a paperback thriller. A girl who looked like the sitcom stereotype of a Long Island girl sat at the desk nearest the door, painting her fingernails a bright metallic blue. The rest of the desks were empty. I supposed the other people must be out verifying.

  "This'll be your desk," Gregor said, pointing to the one behind the nail polish girl.

  "The drill is, you wait here until someone calls for verification. We send out whoever's up next, unless they request someone. First few days, we'll send you out with some of the others until you know what's going on, then you'll be on your own.

  You might want to bring a book or something to do while you're waiting." He turned to the girl painting her nails. "Angie, show her around the office." Then he stomped back to his desk and sat with a grunt.

  "I'll leave you to get settled in," Rod said. "Just let me know if you need anything.

  You can reach me by phone, or come down if you have the time."

  "Thanks," I said. "I'll see you around." He waved at me and left. I turned to see Angie with a scrunched-up look of distaste on her face.

  "Who let the dogs out?" she said in a nasal Long Island voice. Even though I thought her remark was rude, it was nice to have my view of Rod's looks validated, after seeing so many others swooning at his feet.

  "He's actually pretty nice," I said, putting my purse and briefcase down at the desk Gregor had pointed out. I'd almost forgotten how unattractive Rod could be, the more time I spent with him. When he wasn't trying so hard to play the charmer, he was much more appealing.

  Angie finished her nails, then closed her bottle of nail polish. "Okay, I guess I'd better show you around," she said, waving her hands in front of her face. She held them out, her fingers spread wide, as she got out of her chair and headed to the far side of the office. "Over here's the coffee room. The pot with the orange handle's decaf. When you finish a pot, make a fresh one, and by finish we mean anything less than a full cup left in the pot. No leaving a tablespoon and claiming you didn't empty the pot, like certain people do." She raised her voice and said, "Gary!" apparently addressing the guy who still had his nose stuck in his book. "Creamer and sugar are in the cabinet,

  and there's also tea. Hot water comes out of that spout on the coffee machine."

  We walked farther into the coffee room, and I noticed that the sink was full of empty coffee mugs. "You'll want to bring your own mug, and you're supp
osed to wash up after yourself. Refrgerator is community property, but if you want to keep your lunch, put your name on it. Sodas are free. If there's something you like that we don't have, let Gregor know. He'll kvetch about it, but he'll order it. He's also supposed to get us lunch if we want it, but that just wigs out most of us, so we brown

  bag. Sometimes we all go out together. "

  She walked past me, still waving her fingers in the air to dry her nail polish, and headed down a short hallway. "Supply room's in there—pens, paper, what have you.

  Not that we really need it." She didn't pause as she passed the open doorway. "And here are the bathrooms. Any questions?"

  "I think that covers it." I felt queasy as I went back to my desk. This wasn't what I'd had in mind. They'd made me feel so important, so special, and here I was in a low-rent version of the secretarial pool. With any luck, I'd stay so busy that I didn't have to spend much time in this depressing office. If verifiers were so important to the company, I couldn't help but wonder why they didn't have better working conditions.

  I sat at my desk and, for lack of anything better to do, started opening drawers to see what was in there. I'd just found a stash of multicolored sticky notes when the office door opened and a frazzled-looking woman came in. She was slender to the point of being skinny, with a halo of frizzy hair surrounding her face. I couldn't tell if she was middle-aged or if it was just the effect of her skinniness combined with the obvious degree of stress she was under that made her look that old. She crossed the room without acknowledging me and sat at the desk across from Gary.

  Angie leaned back in her chair. "Don't let her get you worried. They didn't catch Rowena before she nearly went around the bend. It's not the job. She's just that freaked out all the time." She then turned back to her desk and started on a second coat of nail polish.

  I'd been heading around the bend myself before I found out I wasn't imagining things, so I could sympathize with Rowena. I got up and went over to her desk. "Hi, I'm Katie," I said to her.

  She looked up at me, then blinked like she expected me to disappear. Then she squinted, and at last she said, "I'm Rowena." There was something vague about her voice, like she lived in her imagination most of the time. If she really was the dreamy sort, then I could see where being able to see magic all around her would be enough to send her right over the edge.