Necromancer's Dating Service (Magis Luminare Book 1) Page 2

  “Then we’ll get you oriented Monday.” He flipped his binder closed with a snap and turned to his computer, not bothering to shoo me out or see me to the door.

  Okay… I guess we’re done, then. “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Ortiz’s secretary gave me a thumbs up as soon as I shut the door behind me. “How’d it go, sweetie?”

  “Good, Patrice! He said I’ll get placement on a creative team in a few hours and start orientation Monday!”

  “That’s great news, hon!” Her excitement fizzled out into confusion. “But…”

  I froze mid-step, suddenly nervous all over again. “But what?”

  Patrice shook her head, likely attempting to sooth my concerns. “Oh, nothing, dear. I just didn’t know we had spots available on the creative teams.” She brightened again, her wrinkled smile putting me more at ease. “But that must mean you did really well!”

  I nodded and thanked her on her way back to the tiny cubicle in the corner, not sure whether to believe her or not. I hoped there was a spot she didn’t know about, or a new team I’d get placed on. The possibilities consumed my thoughts until I found myself at my desk again, numbly staring at the laminate.

  This had been my workspace for the past three months. I wanted to let out a sigh of relief. I had one right there, bursting at the top of my throat, ready to be let free. The interview was over. I’d nailed it. I’d been promised the job already. Then, where were these emotions coming from? Exhaustion? Confusion? Transitioning into an unknown? I achieved my goal! I got a job!

  What job, though?

  Cedric, the inter-office mailman, whistled a happy little polka tune as he pushed his cart past “The Block” where the intern cubicles sat. I considered leaning out and sharing my news, but Cedric was hard of hearing. He’d already trotted past me by the time I rolled the creaking desk chair toward the opening in my cell.

  Most of The Block’s workspaces were already empty. Some folks had dropped out of the program, and a few had already gotten jobs elsewhere. Only twenty percent made it to the finish line, but those who did had a foot in the door of the biggest server design team specializing in niche online meetups.

  Just over the room divider lay the big cubes, the ones with new carpeting and standard whiteboards. They had a breakroom and the very best feature of all—job permanence. In an economy drowning to some extent or another once every decade, there were no life preservers, only ladders to grab hold of and climb your way out of the tempestuous waters.

  I planned to clamber up every rung until I hit server admin, then hold on for dear life.

  My cell buzzed on the desk, startling me. I smiled at the picture that loaded on the screen. Mom had been practicing selfies as her new skill of the month. She’d sent me one with her head chopped off above her eyebrows. She’d captioned it, “Ready to hear how you did, sweetheart! Hugs and kisses!”

  “Me, too, Ma,” I whispered. I typed her a quick, hopeful response with a fingers-crossed emoji. She instantly replied with a couple different heart emojis. Now that almost brought out the mixed emotion sobs. My parents had sacrificed a lot for me, believing in me so much they scraped together the cash to give me this chance.

  I felt Mom and Dad’s support holding me up, even though I couldn’t wait to repay it. I’d make them proud of what I did with their belief in me. They’d wanted me to stay on the farm. Dad especially didn’t understand why my escape had to be so far away, why anyone would want to be a web designer when there was hay to bale in the wide open fields.

  But they loved me and did what they could to give me this opportunity. I felt so lucky to have such supportive parents, even if I couldn’t wait to pay them back and then some. Hopefully, I’d make other’s lives better someday, too… for them, and all the people I help connect through my server designs.

  The tab with my email account open called my name, and I couldn’t help refreshing the page every few minutes, just in case.

  I smiled to myself as the friendly wheels of another desk chair squeaked toward me. “Hey, Celeste! Your interview was earlier, wasn’t it?” Martin asked, his dark mass of hair bouncing with playful enthusiasm. He was one of the few who’d landed an internship straight out of an associate’s degree, and we older, wiser adults pestered him for his youthful exuberance and baby face.

  He loved every minute of it.

  “Yeah, I just got finished!” Feeling guilty that I’d been caught nervously refreshing my email, I minimized the window and spun back around to chat. “What are you still doing here, Martin? I thought you were already reassigned to IT.”

  “Oh, I am. Just cleaning out my stuff.” He held up a plastic grocery bag with a pencil holder and some sticky notes in it. “We don’t even get the empty cardboard box to carry our things in.”

  I laughed. “Your poor, sad cactus is not going to travel well in that thing!”

  “I know, right? Plus, I’m gonna be on the basement level, so no windows for Fluffy.” He hung the bag on the chair’s armrest. “I’m gonna have to get a plastic one.”

  “Oh no!” I eyed the long, prickly spines sticking out all over the cactus in his hand. Martin simply couldn’t give up on his desk buddy. “I can babysit him for you until you order a grow light for him.”

  Martin gingerly handed over the terrifying plant. “You can adopt him, if you want! I was gonna find somebody to take him, anyway.”

  “Well, feel free to visit Fluffy anytime.” I pretended to pat the cactus, then a ding from my computer startled me. As my hand jerked, I pricked my finger on a needle, right in the nail bed. “Ow!”

  The little spine was tinged with pink when I drew my hand away. I sucked on the smarting finger, hoping cacti didn’t carry some kind of weird poison or disease.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry!” Martin fished around in his plastic bag of office supplies until he pulled out a tissue. “Here.”

  “Thanks. Fluffy’s just saying hi to his new mama, is all.” I wrapped my finger in the puffy white square, already turning my attention to the computer. “It’s here! My placement!”

  Martin scratched the back of his head. “You want some space? Or…”

  “No, you get to be witness to this momentous occasion!” I opened the email with a dramatic click of the mouse, and Martin leaned in closer, our rolling chairs filling the tiny cubicle to bursting.

  I read aloud: “Congratulations to Celeste Grantham on your promotion to creative design lead…”

  “Lead!” Martin’s eyes widened. “What the heck, Celeste! You must’ve killed it!”

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. There must be some mistake. “Orientation begins Monday, yada yada… and that’s it. It doesn’t say what department I’m gonna be in, though.” There’s no way! Lead?

  “Hopefully somewhere with some sunlight.” Martin still wore a dumbfounded look. Then a huge grin covered his whole face. “Dude, creative lead? That means you’ll get your own project!”

  Sudden realization struck me. “That might be why Patrice said what she did when I was on the way out of the interview…”

  “Oh? What’d she say?”

  “Something about not knowing of any projects with designer openings currently. They must be starting up a new team!” No way! I read over the email again, my eyes wandering over the words, but no new information sank in. But why on earth would they give someone fresh out of her internship the creative design lead position? I’m not even approaching qualified! No way!

  “Packet delivery for Miss Celeste!” Cedric’s unbelievably low bass voice reverberated nearby. Martin had to scoot aside to make room for me as I leaned out of the cubicle to wave my hand.

  “Over here, Cedric, thank you!” I called. He didn’t seem to register the words, but by the recognition in his eyes, he at least caught sight of my wave.

  “Ah, there you are, little bluebird! Don’t be so shy next time!” His wrinkled face split into a wonderful grin. “This one’s fresh off the hopper. Still warm from the printing.” He hand
ed me a thick manila packet, the brad barely closed over the top flap it was so full. “Looks like you got some readin’ ta do, hon. You gonna make the dance next weekend with all this reading you got on your hands?”

  “Thank you, Cedric!” I projected my voice as loudly as I dared to keep from disturbing anyone’s phone calls while letting him actually hear me. “And you know I won’t miss a dance weekend if I can help it!” He was right, the whole packet still radiated with heat from the big photocopier at the end of the hall.

  My smile melted when I saw what department name was printed on the cover.

  “Celeste? Celeste, what’s wrong?” Martin’s voice sounded like he was calling from the end of a long tunnel.

  “That… that jerk!” Tears filled my eyes. “The absolute nerve!”

  Martin stood there, awkwardly staring as I plopped into my chair and tossed the stack of papers onto the tiny desk. His mouth opened, then closed again as he wisely opted to wait for me to share.

  No way! This is simply ridiculous. Were they even thinking? I forced my face to form the words. They came out in a whisper. “The mothballed NecROMANCE server.”

  “B-but that one…” he stammered.

  “That’s my assignment, Martin,” I snapped, glancing sharply up at him. “I’m the creative lead for the server that was such a bad idea in the first place, it never made it past beta mode. It was a total flop and couldn’t even find matches when it was free to use. It was so niche, the marketing department wouldn’t touch it.” I paused in ever-growing frustration. “And I don’t even know the first thing about necromancy! How am I supposed to be a lead for a market I don’t even understand?”

  He swallowed hard. “Oh no. I’m… so sorry.” Looking around like he wanted an opportunity to escape but couldn’t find one, Martin patted my shoulder. “Hey, maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe you’re just what that server needs to be something great. They won’t even see you coming.”

  “I can’t, Martin. I just can’t even right now.” I was definitely wiping away the hot tears. Nothing within me could see myself interviewing real-life necromancers. There was no way.

  “Yeah.” He scratched his head, eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Is it true they still drink blood like the vampires?”

  “Martin!” I snapped. “Not helpful!”

  He waved his hands. “Sorry! I just… we don’t have any in my country. The hijos de lobos killed them all generations ago. We barely have fire or electric magicians, and they’re all really weird.”

  Whatever he’d said about hijos went straight over my head. My frustration mounted with yet more terms I didn’t comprehend. “Yeah, well, I know like two facts about necromancers, and neither of them give me much help.” My eyes stung, and I made another angry, frustrated swipe with my forearm. I blinked the tears back out of sight. Not now.

  “It’s just…” I hitched a deep breath. “I came here and there was so little I felt like I knew. Ask me anything about UI design or geometric pairings, and I’m all over it. Ask me anything about animal husbandry, crops, or ballroom dancing, and I’ve got you covered. Then the one thing I need to know if I want to succeed is so far outside my wheelhouse…” I stopped to take another calming breath. “I’m just scared. And it’s necros, so… I’m a little afraid of what I’ll learn when I dive in.”

  He didn’t have anything to say to that. I didn’t suppose I expected him to.

  Woodenly, I grabbed my laptop bag then slid the empty envelope, the pile of papers, and my badge into it. I couldn't tell what was eating me worse, the burning anger, or how deflated I was when I should’ve been celebrating. Either way, I needed to be somewhere else, anywhere but this office.

  Chapter 2 – Sing a Love Song

  The next morning, I stared blankly at the safety bar blocking my car from entering the parking garage. It had to be some kind of metaphor for my existence at this point. No entry until someone else lets you in. What you want is out of reach.

  Oblivious to my misery, the entrance guard chatted around the wide straw of her iced coffee.

  “Good morning, Celeste! Happy last day of internship! Big plans to celebrate this weekend?”

  I managed a half smile and a nod to the guard as the older woman scanned my badge and returned it. I didn’t feel up to our usual chipper pleasantries but didn’t want to put her day out.

  “Well, don’t party too hard. Big day Monday!” With a laugh, the guard waved me onward, raising the traffic arm with the press of a button.

  I pulled into my normal spot on the top floor, where I park every weekday to watch the sunrise. This time, the sun’s pink light slowly warmed the vast concrete, but it didn’t warm me. I was still numb from yesterday’s awful news.

  I sat there cross-legged, staring into nowhere. My stomach rumbled.

  I patted my belly as if I was reassuring an old friend. “You’ll get lunch today, I promise. It’s payday.” That thought brightened me a little. I’d rationed out my last paycheck almost perfectly, only running out of food yesterday. Trial and error had gotten me pretty good at that by now.

  Today, I’d be out of debt! Oh, how I’d been waiting for this day. I already had the envelope stamped and ready to send. My parents were fantastic for letting me borrow the extra funds needed to see me through the internship.

  They said they didn’t mind, but I don’t like owing other people for any reason, in any capacity. As soon as I could stick five hundred dollars in that envelope and chuck it in the dropbox, my debt would be over. Check that one off the to-do list.

  I’d always feel like I owed them for all they did for me growing up. Their effort and sacrifices did not go unnoticed or unappreciated. But I did the math when I first got here. They lent me pretty much their life savings, just so I could follow my passion.

  I intended to put every red cent back in their hands as soon as humanly possible. This was their only buffer between them and the next farm disaster. My money was on the old tractor being this year’s crisis. It’d been a year or two, and it was on schedule for an “unexpected” mechanical failure.

  After that, I should also have enough to cover my next two weeks’ rent at the campsite and have fifty dollars left for groceries. The last paycheck of the month would be on my new salary with benefits and all. With that paystub, I could rent a real place, maybe a little studio with a fridge.

  I couldn’t wait to buy a whole pack of blueberries, freeze them, then pop them into my mouth one-by-one, whenever I wanted. I didn’t realize my eyes were shut while I imagined the studio and blueberries, so I completely missed the moment the sun peeked over the horizon.

  With a groan, I threw my hands in the air. “Figures.” Resigned to the day, and hoping its start wasn’t some harbinger of terrible things to come, I untangled my legs to hop out of the car, retrieved my laptop bag, then headed inside.

  If nothing else, my rumbling stomach served as a reminder that I had to give this assignment everything I had. It was that, or slink home in defeat, with nothing to show for my hard work. Worse, it’d mean the embarrassment of taking a super personal risk and failing at it. It was this chance, with a dead project no one wanted, or abject failure.

  This, or going back to the town no one ever left to join the never-ending cycle of settling for less. Could it be more of a lose-lose situation?

  The reminder lasted about four minutes into the day.

  “Hey, Celeste, we went ahead and moved your assignments to the new batch of interns so they could get oriented. Why don’t you head over to the new department and introduce yourself? That way, you’ll be ready Monday to get started on orientation.”

  “Hey, Celeste, you must be the new project manager for NecROMANCE. Wow, they really scraped the bottom of the barrel this time. Where’d they find you, a daycare? Have you ever held a job in this field? Not that I’d wanna do your job… good luck.”

  “Hey, Celeste, I’m Shawna Lambert. They said I was going to be your new manager. Which project was that? Oh.
That’s not one of my teams. There must be some mixup. Let me get back with you on that.”

  After an hour of being batted around like a pinball, finally someone had the courtesy to show me to an empty desk. My new workspace stood in the dead center of a room full of people. They all chatted on phones, shuffled papers, typed loudly at their desktops, and generally pretended I didn’t exist.

  It was the exact same model desk as my last one, minus the grey cubicle. Hey, at least I knew exactly how to decorate and wouldn’t have to get used to a new desk height.

  I fetched my things from the old cubicle and set about creating my new work nest. When the last pen settled in its holder, distance settled between myself and the coworkers I’d bonded with over our shared internship struggles and successes. A pang of grief twisted my stomach over the connections and the privacy I was losing.

  I picked up Fluffy, staring at the little guy as if he was the work buddy I’d never have to say goodbye to. The weaponized houseplant still had a spine painted reddish brown from where it’d pricked my finger yesterday.

  I had a strangely intense feeling about this new assignment. I didn’t like it at all. And I think, and I imagined Fluffy understood.

  Necromancy… I don’t know. Maybe it was from that one wacko who’d kept me imprisoned for five bizarre minutes in his shop when I first came here. I was at least sixty percent sure he was pretending to do magic, and the other forty percent wondered if what happened was even real. I still couldn’t explain the trick he’d done with my shoes.

  Is that memory why I’m on edge? Or maybe it was how fast everyone wanted to give me a wide berth the second I received this dang assignment, like their jobs depended on it. I was so used to coworkers popping over to chat or waving me down the hall to look over color swatches.

  I plunked the cactus down on my desk. “We’ll survive, little buddy. We’ll be hardy ‘ol cacti, you and me.” I forced myself to smile, then sat down and got to work. By lunchtime, I planned to have my team’s assignments ready to hand out to them when we met. The second we got together, they’d see me as a skilled professional, someone they could trust and look up to.