Calliope
“Stop fidgeting.”
“I’m not fidgeting.” I am absolutely fidgeting.
For years I got used to one uniform walking through the Penn’s doors. Now I’m walking in wearing dress pants and a camisole under a blazer and why is the lace so fucking itchy.
Why did I even wear lace?
“You’re fidgeting.” Soren opens the door for me and with a deep breath I walk in.
The AC greets me like a long-lost lover. Security smiles at me. New people, people I’ve never met in my life before. Probably got a crash course over the weekend while I was busy pretending to play sick.
Cough. Cough.
“You’re fidgeting,” I grumble as I follow him below to the basement and the archive section.
“Your vocabulary astonishes me. Truly. Never change.” Again he holds the door open for me.
This time I step into the hallway not as a security guard checking out the creepy basement but to see Lazarus who prefers this office over the fancy ones upstairs.
I don’t blame him.
It’s better on my mental health anyway. I mean if he made me go upstairs I’d have all those eyes on me. It would feel like some sort of walk of shame. Oh there goes the security guard, now working with Soren.
“Did you like your pillows?” the bastard asks.
“All twelve of them.” In the right shade too. He’s a freaking interior designer.
“Excellent, let me know if they’re squishy enough,” Soren says as we walk down the hall side by side. Just two coworkers heading to work. Together. Nothing else. Nothing to see here.
“Squishy?” I shake my head unfortunately knowing exactly what he is talking about.
“You’re nervous.”
“Of course I’m nervous.” I straighten my blazer again, thankful I wore it. It gets cold down here.
“Ah.”
“Ah.” I mock him probably looking like an asshole.
“Is it because Vex and you—”
“Shh.” I press two fingers to his lips, my cheeks blazing red. “No, no. No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no.” I pause before saying one more time. “No.”
“I took that as,” he talks around my finger. “No stop. Shush. No. Say nothing about that here.”
“Then why are you talking if you can speak my language.”
“To keep you talking.”
Ugh, I spin around and clack down the hall toward Lazarus’s office. I hear Soren chuckle behind me.
“I’ll see you at lunch.” He continues down the hall away from me. Or rather leaving me to face Lazarus alone. Which I hate just as equally.
“No you won’t!” I plan to be too busy for lunch.
I’m not winning today so I knock on the door to his office.
He doesn’t answer. Cool-cool I’ll just stand here and twiddle my fucking thumbs. After what feels like a full hour but is more likely just two seconds I lean on the door.
Sure I’m nervous. Scared out of my mind. This is everything I’ve always wanted and then more. So much more. But what if I’m not good enough. What if all my research, everything I put my entire career on, well what if I turn out to be a failure.
This is why I can’t be left alone.
“Enter.”
“Oh thank the gods.” I turn around and open the door to his office.
Lazarus sits behind his desk, not in a suit oh no. Why would my very professional boss have a suit on. Why would he do that? No, no, no a tight dark blue T-shirt and I swear if he is wearing jeans on a Monday morning I might snap.
“Calliope, sit.” He shuffles a few papers as I realize I’m still standing at the door, which I close gently behind me.
Don’t trip.
I walk with barely a dash of confidence to the chair before his desk and sit down. “Mr. Dagon.”
“Lazarus.” He pauses his shuffling to look up at me under thick lashes.
Lazarus yes, professional.
“Mr. Dagon,” I repeat myself because I will not allow this man to reduce my morals.
“Paperwork,” he says closing a folder and pushing it across his desk.
I’m at the edge of my chair and go to reach for the stack of HR papers. Not like I didn’t know this was something I’d have to do, but no one wants to do paperwork their first day. “Is this necessary.”
“Afraid so.” He leans back in his chair carefully watching me. “You’ll have the day to fill them out.”
“Okay,” I grab the stack flipping through what feels like hundreds of pages.
“Don’t worry, most of it’s standard,” Lazarus says, gesturing toward the papers. “Though there are a few special sections I’d like you to pay particular attention to.”
I stop flipping through the pages and look up. “Special sections?”
“The Penn has certain... unique protocols.” He picks up a pen and twirls it between his fingers. “Particularly for researchers working with our more sensitive collections.”
My stomach does a little flip. The sensitive collections. That’s why I’m here. That’s what I’ve been begging to access for years.
“Like the folklore archives?” I can’t keep the excitement from my voice.
“Among others.” He places the pen down precisely parallel to the edge of his desk. “But there are rules, Calliope. Strict rules about how those materials are handled.”
I nod, trying to look serious and professional despite the thrill running through me. “Of course. I understand completely.”
“Do you?” He studies me with those gray eyes that seem to see right through my blazer and camisole and itchy lace. “Because what you’ll be working with isn’t just old books and papers.”
I lean forward slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Open the folder. Sign the top paper.”
I flip open the manila folder and find an NDA. I don’t know legal jargon, Calypso went to college to be a paralegal but dropped out. I’ll need her to read over it later.
I scribble my name because the only way I’m walking away is if I die. Right now.
“Follow me.” He stands slowly revealing that he is in fact wearing black jeans. “Bring your papers.”
Who the fuck wears black jeans to work.
I follow him out the door of his office with my stack of papers. “Where will I be working?”
“Closely with me for right now.”
I trip. I knew it was going to happen eventually. I haven’t lived in heels in over three years and here I am wearing heels. What was I thinking.
Luckily Lazarus catches me. He turns around his arms out and lifting me before I can even figure out what just happened.
“Careful.”
“Yep.” Why is it so hard to talk to this man? His all-sexy smoldering gazes and barely any words. I’ve gotten used to Soren and his banter and Vex and his weird.
But Lazarus. I can’t pin down.
I also still hate him a little. Okay a lot.
Armor. I need to wear my hatred like armor.
His hands remain on my arms as he steadies me. I clutch the papers to my chest like a barrier between us. Much like the coffee this morning. Don’t think about the coffee.
“You’ll be working with me until Soren is ready for you.” He finally drops his arms. And instead of walking ahead of me he walks beside me.
Slowly.
Listen I’m short as fuck. Lazarus? Tall as fuck. Our strides are not the same.
Hell it was an argument I had all the time with my ex. He never waited for me. It didn’t matter where we were going, what we were doing he was always miles ahead of me.
I’d call him back, he’d laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world. It made me rage. It made me angry.
Now I’m angry because this man, who I should hate, who gave my job to his friend, he’s choosing to regulate his pace to walk beside me.
He plays dirty.
“What does that entail?” I ask because I can’t keep thinking about him taking baby steps to stay beside me. It’s ruining my hate.
“Thought you’d never ask.” He looks down at me with a little smirk that gives his gray eyes a little crinkle to them. “We’ll be working on a project that I have a particular interest in.”
“I can’t decide if that sounds ominous or not.”
“Depends on perspective, Calliope.” He glances at me before opening a door I’ve never in all of my years opened while working here. It sends a little thrill through me that this is it. This is what I’ve worked toward my entire adult life.
We enter together into a small room. It looks like a waiting room at a doctor’s office with a snack area and small mini fridge. There’s a door with a restroom sign. Lockers line a wall, not many just a handful, that’s where Lazarus goes opening one and turning to me.
“Your personal things can go in here. Purse, blazer, shoes.” He sits down taking off his loafers. There’s a weird tension in the air and it doesn’t belong to my nervousness.
I stack my things in the locker acutely aware of Lazarus behind me. I kick off the death heels thankful my feet hit the cool tiled floor.
“Bring your papers,” he says unlocking the next room. I enter under the arm he’s using to hold the door open. “There are two more rooms after this.”
“What’s this one for?” I look around this one has cabinets for gowns and booties. When the door shuts it air-locks, causing me to jump a little. Something that Lazarus notices. Perceptive bastard.
“Prep.” He pulls out booties handing them to me. “Booties, gown. Wash your hands.”
“My papers?”
“Bring them.”
Don’t like that but I follow his lead. Pulling on the booties and the gown. Then I wash my hands like I’m prepping for surgery. When I’m done, he hands me the stack of papers again before looking over me. Satisfied he unlocks the next door.
This one has a table, and one wall is actually a window that peers into the next room where there’s so much more. My stomach does a little dance as I set the papers aside and look through the glass.
“It’s a clean room.”
“Have you not worked in an isolation room before?”
“No. Actually.” I giggle a little because there’s a big-ass book on display and my eyes are itching to read it. There are shelves with lockers that I’m sure are climate controlled. A desk in the isolation room. “Is that a Bible?” I really need to know.
“If it is?”
“Can I read it?”
“Do you speak Hebrew?”
“Not one of my languages.” I deflate a little. “I mean I could start now? I’ve been meaning to try one of those apps, you know just to see if they work well. But I haven’t ya know?” I look over at him as he watches me carefully.
I can’t read his thoughts, or his emotions. He is not the definition of an easy read. But that’s okay.
I’m where I’ve always wanted to be.
“You are familiar with Akkadian?” he asks.