Friday, September 26. The Office. Ugh.
I got to the office an hour early, already planning how much time to allot to each project today and somehow wedge Lusa'ta's magical to-do list into the rest of my day.
It sounded like she'd be living at this shrine thing—or grove, as she called it. Didn’t tochigami live at their shrines?
She'd wanted to head straight into the woods bordering the construction site that morning. I'd talked her out of it.
First, I had to go to work, and she'd insisted I needed to be part of the search.
Second, I was reasonably sure the neighboring property belonged to a farmer.
She’d reluctantly agreed. It seemed whatever previous experience she’d had with farmers in the area hadn’t been pleasant.
I still had no idea when that experience had been.
Which left me with a new problem. I needed to find somewhere she could stay outdoors undisturbed, which was a tall order for the Athens area.
In the end, I’d convinced her to wait until I got off work, and then we’d go find somewhere suitable in a nearby state park. That was as close to the ‘free land’ she wanted as we were likely to find in this area.
I grabbed my clothes from the back seat and dashed inside.
I had a basic list of things she’d said we’d need to begin the…ritual.
Yes, ritual.
That was not ominous or anything.
Then there was her claim that she would be vulnerable to more attack until the ritual was complete. That, it seemed, was a warden’s responsibility.
Apparently my magical contract came with a job title.
Warden.
Bleh. That sounded entirely too pompous even for this nerd.
As long as I wasn’t expected to wear a cloak and a sword or something, I’d bear with it…for now.
If I was so vital, how had she managed without me this past week while I was down with a contract-bug?
She’d ignored my question, instead making it clear that I was expected to be at her side in the grove except for when I had to be at work.
Well, thank goodness for that consideration.
She also hadn’t been clear on how long this ritual would take. Which meant I was probably going to be camping in the woods of some park for the foreseeable future.
At least it wasn’t December or anything.
Yet.
The whole situation was insane.
Completely insane.
But ignoring it hadn’t exactly worked so far.
An unknown amount of time out in the woods meant I had to grab camping supplies—as I didn’t own any.
That was going to blow my budget.
I added recalculate October finances to the lunch break to-do list.
Now to get through what was sure to be a delightful workday and dash out the door by no later than four thirty.
Contract aside, I was feeling pretty good. I had breakfast and lunch packed. I had a tumbler of hot coffee—RealFoodRon’s Better Morning Brew had quickly become a favorite.
Things were actually looking up.
I headed toward the break room to drop off my food.
“Nate,” someone called right before I reached the kitchen.
That sounded like John, my team lead.
“Yeah?” I backpedaled until I reached his cubicle.
John was the type who took everything way too seriously, but he had been with the company longest of any of the team leads and knew our accounts backwards and forwards.
“How’s MacMarster?”
“Good. I’ve got them caught up through second-quarter. I’ll be ready to start on third once Marcie sends the files over next week.”
John nodded, then peered at me through his thick glasses.
“I realize you’ve been working at home most of the week, but is that appropriate for the office?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. By-the-book. Clearly he’d missed the change of clothes I was holding.
“I thought we were starting casual Fridays?” I said, sounding innocent and puzzled. “Wasn’t it in that memo Kiara sent last week?”
“No, the boss shot that one down,” John said.
I let my shoulders droop dramatically. “Good thing I brought a change of clothes.”
I moved to go.
“Nate.”
Oh come on!
“Yes?”
“These are for you. You’re taking over Simmon’s Transportation and ARC Group’s accounts.”
He held out a stack of folders.
I shifted what I was carrying around, pretending I needed both hands. Really, I just needed a second not to complain about being saddled with more problems.
“Aren’t those Tina’s clients?”
“Tina isn’t with the firm any more.”
A brief pulse of guilt hit me. I promptly stomped on it.
Didn't take a detective to figure out what that meant. She'd finally screwed up badly enough to be shown the door.
“Lemme change and put this in the fridge. I’ll grab those on the way back.”
“Good. Summary meeting is a three today.”
I pasted on a smile. “Great. Can’t wait.”
I raced away from John’s desk. I'd already told John everything he needed to know. But John believed in process. Which meant we'd all sit in the conference room, repeat what we'd already said individually, accomplish absolutely nothing, and I'd watch the clock creep toward four.
Of all the ways to end the week, this was shaping up to be just a wonderful day. Guess that was what I got for having the audacity to feel optimistic heading into the office.
I turned into the tiny break room. Someone was poking around in the fridge ahead of me.
“Great, just great,” I muttered to myself, still fuming about the meeting. Our team was the only one that still did the weekly summary meetings. “Absolutely fan-f—“
Caught sight of my break room companion. A petite woman with a black bob rooting around the fridge. I shut up.
Nuh-uh. No swearing in front of ladies.
“Hi, Mei,” I said.
“Morning!” she said brightly, closing the fridge door. She eyed my lunch. “Sarah fix you lunch? That’s sweet.”
I hugged the containers to my chest and put on my best wounded expression.
“How dare you assume! I made this, thank you very much.” I shoved the food into the fridge. “Sarah’s too busy with teaching. She doesn’t cook much.”
“So you’re going to be mister domestic when you two get hitched?”
I rolled my eyes. Mei had been pestering me about when I was going to propose for the past year. She was worse than Mom.
Mostly because Mom didn't work here.
“Nice try. Gotta get changed before John has a stroke.”
I waved and headed toward the bathroom.
The summary meeting was, as expected, a complete waste of time. As three forty-five came and went, I tried to sit still while John droned on about something we’d already been over thoroughly. Twice.
I pretended to pay attention. In reality, I was crunching numbers. Between the gear I needed, Lusa’s shopping list, and some wiggle room for the inevitable unforeseen expenses, the math was looking…not good. I might have to sacrifice this month’s engagement ring fund allotment.
Yes, there was an engagement ring fund. I might give everyone the run-around where Sarah was concerned, but I’d decided months ago I’d ask her this Christmas to tie the knot. That was supposed to be one of the more romantic times to propose—or so people said. I was arguably more comfortable with spreadsheets than sonnets, but I tried, for Sarah.
We worked. We were comfortable. That made more sense to me than falling hard, getting married in a rush, and spending the next five years regretting it.
In November I was supposed to get a nice little raise. Finally. That plus Sarah’s teaching salary would make things like a larger place for the two of us and maybe a better set of wheels for her that much closer to being a reality.
I glanced at my phone. 4:15.
John wrapped up. “Any other questions?”
Marcus raised a hand. I groaned. Mei, who was sitting next to Marcus leaned over and whispered fiercely into his ear. It seemed I wasn’t the only one dying to get out of here.
“Marcus?”
Marcus dropped his hand, looking sheepish. “Sorry, it was nothing. I’m good.”
John looked slowly around the table, waiting.
“So we’re all set for next week?”
Silent nods greeted him. I’d come prepared. Everything I needed to leave the office was either already in the car or stashed below my seat. If I went back to my desk after the meeting, the universe would have conspired to somehow keep me there until after dark.
“Good. See you Monday.”
You’d think it was high school and the last bell had just rung from how fast we cleared the conference room.
I pushed open the door to the parking garage, trying to not look like I was escaping prison. The cool, slightly damp smell of concrete washed over me.
“Halberg!”
Of course.
I was tempted to bolt out the door. Pretend I hadn’t heard Caldwell—and make sure my phone was conveniently in the trunk of my car.
Instead, I turned, wearing my best professional smile while cursing my boss out in my head.
Thoroughly.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Where are you going?”
Three people rounded the corner, then seeing the boss zeroed in on me, walked boldly by and out into weekend freedom.
She didn’t ask any of them where they were going. Granted, they all had kids to pick up. But no way was I letting this….delightful person that signed my paychecks keep me here late.
“I have an appointment,” I said, keeping my voice bland.
I had to find a spot out in the middle of nowhere to build a shrine for a land guardian and hopefully not run into any more not-teenagers with cat’s claws.
Appointment was easier.
“And your accounts?”
“All up to date. Gave John second-quarter reports for MacMarster this morning.”
I pulled out my phone, already turning away. She looked ready to object.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I didn’t give her a chance to answer before beating a hasty retreat.
No way.
I'd done my job. I wasn’t going to be the lone person in the office tonight handling other people’s screw-ups.
I’d pay for it Monday, I knew. But maybe, just maybe, Lusa would have her shrine and I’d have my life back.
My wallet was considerably lighter when I turned onto Briarwood Court. I'd stopped by my apartment, grabbed everything on Lusa's list, and done the rest of my shopping in record time. It was only a few minutes after six, but I was still antsy. We had just over an hour of daylight left. I was not looking forward to trying to set up a tent in the dark—wherever we ended up.
I drove by the construction site slowly. The day had warmed up, drying most of the rain from overnight. Some machinery was still moving. It looked like they were getting ready to put in the first road. A handful of white heavy-duty trucks sat in the parking lot near the project trailer.
I kept going, passing the narrow strip of woods between the site and the neighboring pasture. Hopefully there would be somewhere to turn around up here—
Found one.
It was a sketchy lip of drive in front of the pasture gate. More suited to a truck than my sedan—but I made it work.
I crept back toward the construction site, and pulled onto the shoulder just before the treeline.
Where was she?
I climbed out of the car carefully. Traffic was light, but it was Friday. I’d rather not have my weekend wrecked any further by ending up on the wrong side of a distracted driver’s bumper.
Scanned the woods. She should be right in front of me.
Nope. Not going to think about how I knew that.
Should I call for her?
I opened my mouth—
And suddenly she was there. I swore I’d been looking right at that spot.
Whatever.
At least it looked like she hadn’t been waiting long. It had been a worry in the back of my mind I’d tried to keep buried all day—a young woman not used to our world, nowhere to go—
No—not young. Lusa’ta might look to be in her early thirties, but there was nothing young about her. She’d claimed to have been asleep for an unknown length of time—and when she’d last been awake, Athens had been farmland and Atlanta hadn’t existed.
Her eyes carried the weight of centuries.
Though, admittedly, I wasn't exactly an expert on what centuries looked like.
I opened the passenger door.
Immortal or not, some things wouldn’t change. She was a lady. I would open her door.
I still did for Sarah, something she had teased me about relentlessly early on.
Lusa eyed my car for a moment.
“It’s not fancy,” I said, “but it’s reliable.”
“I have never ridden in such a vehicle.”
Oh. Oh.
“Carriages?” I asked.
“My feet were usually sufficient.”
“If we were to walk to the park it would take days.”
She didn’t respond. But she climbed in.
I slid into the driver’s side. The car gave an annoying chime as I pulled onto the road. I glanced over at her.
“Please put on your seatbelt.”
She eyed it. “Why?”
“It’s a safety restraint in case we’re in a wreck.”
“Do those happen often?”
“Around here, fender benders—minor accidents—“ I clarified at her confusion. “—are the most common. But I’ve seen some nasty ones. Better safe than sorry.”
She nodded. “I do not believe I would be in danger even were a collision to occur.”
The car chimed again.
“Please. That alarm will keep going for a while if you don’t. And besides, it’s the law. I could get fined at best if we were pulled over and you didn’t have it on.”
“Do your officers of the law have so little to do they stop transportation to ensure compliance?”
I laughed. Explaining the intricacies of our modern legal and justice system (and insurance) was not on my list of things to do today.
I tried again. “You said yourself your connection to the land is tenuous. That is why we are doing this whole build a shrine thing, yes?”
She nodded.
“Then you don’t know for sure that you won’t be injured in an accident. You aren’t as strong as you were.”
Something hot and sharp brushed my nerves—anger, not mine—and just as quickly it was gone. The little bit I’d sensed was enough to decide right then that I never ever wanted that anger directed at me.
But she buckled up.
I merged onto 316 and headed toward the 10 Loop.
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