Chapter Fifteen #2
“Not anymore. They’ve become more inclusive, welcoming people from all faiths and none.
One big, happy family dedicated to eradicating evil.
But like a youth pastor at a church sleepover, behind the big smiles and the kumbayas there’s a worldview as hostile to difference as it is limited in imagination.
” Ms. Crenshaw shook her head irritably.
“The Conclave doesn’t usually bother with our rank-and-file employees.
They know that we’re accustomed to a certain level of attrition here and that we can always find more warm bodies to meet our quotas.
So the question remains—” Her gaze sharpened on me. “Why you, Colin?”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t think of a reason.
Unless…did they know about my connection to the Thing?
A shiver went through me. Had freeing it put me on their radar somehow?
Did they think killing me would make these disappearances stop?
Or was this simply an attempt to punish the person who’d ended the world?
As these thoughts tumbled over one another, I realized belatedly that I’d been silent too long. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.
I had no idea if she believed me—as usual, her expression gave nothing away.
All she said was “You’re free to go. I’ll see you up on thirteen.
” Stepping to the door, she pulled it open and then paused to give me one last look.
“Oh, and my coffee has gotten cold. Fetch me another.” Then she was gone.
My day improved from there, but only because it couldn’t get much worse.
Ms. Crenshaw acted like nothing had happened, but her seeming indifference to the fact that I was being pursued by a bloodthirsty medieval organization was disheartening.
The Conclave knew where I lived. What if they hurt Amira?
It was clear now that the people around me were in danger from more than the Thing I’d loosed, and I had no idea how to protect them.
During the long elevator ride up to thirteen, Ms. Crenshaw’s fresh coffee in hand, I’d realized that confessing to her would accomplish nothing beyond my own demise.
If the Firing Squad wasn’t coming after me, falling on my sword wouldn’t protect Amira or Eric after all.
That meant saving the world still rested squarely on my shoulders.
I worried and fretted for the rest of the morning, interrupted only by a visit from Mr. Samuels.
He breezed into the waiting room, gave me an affable wink, and then rapped on the open door to Ms. Crenshaw’s office.
“Do you have a moment, Margaret?” he inquired in his plummy accent as he hovered in the doorway.
My boss’s soft voice floated out to my desk. “Of course, Barney.”
“You’ve been following the latest reports from the city, I take it?”
“I have, yes. These disappearances are becoming a genuine concern.”
“Sachiko is ready to bite someone. We’ve lost nearly ten percent of our workforce, and a significant number of those people are calling in sick. They’ve started to realize that something is wrong.”
There was a brief pause before Ms. Crenshaw said, “Let’s send our remediation teams after a few of the malingerers. That should send a message to the rest.”
“I agree,” Mr. Samuels murmured, “though perhaps we should ship them off to a corporate retreat rather than opting for termination. Our employment numbers are low enough as it is.”
“That’s fine. Just make sure the rest of the building knows where they are, and why.”
“Good, good.” Mr. Samuels patted his belly absently.
Had I not known him to be a near-immortal being with the blood of countless innocents on his hands, I would have thought he was nervous about something.
“These disappearances are affecting our bottom line, Margaret. Certain…inefficiencies in Human Resources have put R&D behind schedule, and as a result, Investor Relations won’t have the deliverables we’ve promised in time for our meeting this afternoon. ”
Ms. Crenshaw’s voice cooled. “Have our people been sufficiently motivated?”
“Oh, yes. Sachiko is handling it personally. There’s a line of acolytes trembling outside her office. But there’s only so much we can do.” He fiddled with a gleaming copper button on his waistcoat. “Management is going to hear about this, one way or another.”
“Then we’ll have to try to get ahead of things,” my boss replied briskly. “I’ll request a communion with Them tomorrow morning. That gives us twenty-four hours to get our ducks in a row.”
“Excellent. Thank you. I’ll notify the rest of the board.” Mr. Samuels had started to turn away when Ms. Crenshaw’s voice stopped him.
“By the way, Barney, you should know that agents of the Seraphic Conclave attacked my assistant, there.”
Peering intently at my computer screen, I tried to pretend that I hadn’t been listening to every word.
“Did they? That’s concerning.” Mr. Samuels approached my desk and studied me closely through his monocle. “Are you quite all right, my boy?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” I hastened to assure him. “Perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Why would they target you, I wonder?” His blue eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been up to anything unusual, have you, Colin?”
I started to sweat as I held his gaze. “Unusual, sir? Nope. Just…normal things.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I do hope they don’t murder you, my boy. I’m afraid they’re rather like a particularly tenacious bloodhound. Once they have the scent, it’s difficult to shake them off.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Exciting times, I suppose!” he pronounced cheerily. “Thank you, Margaret. Good luck, Colin.” Then he turned and bustled away.
I spent the rest of the workday trying to get in touch with Eric.
I wanted desperately to hear from him, if only to reassure myself that he was still out there somewhere, but my texts and calls went unanswered.
By the time I packed up my things and shuffled to the elevators, I was utterly wrung out.
For the first time since my promotion, I kind of missed being a lowly analyst in Human Resources.
Life hadn’t been good, but it had been simple and relatively safe.
How I wished my biggest worry was formatting spreadsheets.
Descending to the lobby, I was halfway across the polished stone floors when I caught sight of a familiar polyester skirt suit ahead of me—Ms. Kettering.
My step faltered, but an instinctive rush of fear faded when I remembered that I no longer answered to her.
Then, as I watched her push through the revolving doors, I remembered something else.
It was Ms. Kettering who’d sent me to meet with the Thing in the first place.
Did she know what it was? There was only one way to find out.
I caught up with her on the sidewalk outside as she walked toward a black town car waiting at the curb, her bouffant bobbing along in time with her kitten heels, a slim pocketbook dangling from one shoulder pad of her purple blazer. “Ms. Kettering?”
She stopped and turned, already smiling below eyes as sharp as flensing knives. “Why, Colin,” she cooed in her singsong voice. “What a pleasant surprise. How are you enjoying life up on the thirteenth floor?”
“Oh, it’s great. Yeah. No problems at all.” I paused for breath. “Can I ask you about something that happened shortly before I left HR?”
“You were such a valued employee,” she interjected, as if she hadn’t been prepared to end my life. “We were sorry to lose you.”
“Uh, thanks. Do you remember when you sent me down to Transportation to fetch a visitor?” Her icy gaze didn’t waver. “I brought it up to your office, but then it disappeared?”
Her chunky plastic earrings swayed as she tilted her head. “You lost track of it, as I recall.”
I shifted my feet uncomfortably. “Right. Do you know what it was, exactly?”
Her smile widened. “Why do you wish to know?”
“Just curious,” I mumbled.
Ms. Kettering studied me while ordinary people walked past. “I don’t know what it was,” she said in her syrupy voice, “because I never spoke with it directly. It requested a meeting, and then asked that I send you, specifically, to meet it.”
A chill swept across my body. “It asked for me?”
Her shoulder pads lifted in a shrug. “Yes. It was a teensy bit unusual, but as you weren’t going to be with us for much longer, I thought, ‘Why not?’ ”
I stared at her.
“And then you defied all expectations by ascending to thirteen,” she went on, rouged cheeks stretching even further as she tried to make her smile look sincere. “A word of advice, Colin? Be careful. Margaret Crenshaw has a nasty habit of working her subordinates to death.”
Before I could reply, reality stuttered like celluloid film going askew in a projector, producing a moment of profound disorientation.
Then everything straightened itself again and the Thing was there, hovering behind Ms. Kettering in its blood-colored suit, darkness swirling hungrily above the snowy collar of its shirt.
My eyes widened and Ms. Kettering started to turn, sensing danger, but it was too late.
Spindly hands wrapped around her polyester blend and lifted her smoothly off the sidewalk.
Her pink lips fell open in surprise as her upper body arced backward and disappeared into those pulsing shadows, her pantyhose-clad legs kicking fruitlessly.
Then the Thing gripped her ankles and shoved the rest of Ms. Kettering into its face.
Nothing moved. Traffic on East 54th had stopped and the pedestrians around us were frozen in midstride, unaware of what had transpired.
Horrified, I staggered back as the Thing took a moment to adjust its suit jacket, debonair as ever.
How delicious, it said in its hollow voice.
She did such terrible things. There’s nothing like the suffering of innocents to add a little spice to one’s meal.
I was frightened out of my mind, and yet there was only one thing I wanted to know: Had it really chosen me? “Why—?” I started to ask before my voice failed.
I was hungry, and she’d served her purpose. The Thing bent its shoulders toward me in a solicitous gesture. Also, I didn’t like the way she treated you.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. Fantastic—my guardian angel was a homicidal supernatural monster.
Rotating in the air, emaciated body tilting as if it was looking up at the building where I worked, it said, I’m not quite strong enough to breach their defenses again, so for now, I’m going to sample the grimy souls filling this city.
But when I’m ready, I’ll drop by for a chat with your new boss.
A note of anticipation entered its voice.
I can’t wait. It’s going to be delectable.
Everything stuttered again and Midtown lurched back to life. I stood alone in the middle of the sidewalk while people hurried past, little more than ambulatory snacks for the monster I’d unleashed. A monster who’d been right there, devouring my old boss.
A monster who’d asked for me by name.