Page 2 of Asher

“What is it they’ve asked for?” I open a new document to take notes and switch my phone to speaker so my hands are free.

“I emailed you their school’s job criteria thingy,” he says. “But in addition to that, any applicant needs to speak English, Italian, and one other language fluently, and can’t have been associated with any cults or anti-government groups.”

I snort as I skim through my emails, looking for his. “As if I’d allow children to be exposed to that kind of rhetoric.” I spent twenty or so years once researching the nature of cults and how they affect the psyche of children, and it convinced me irrevocably of how dangerous they are, whether on a small, extremist scale or a larger, more mainstream one.

Scanning the job spec, I find it pretty standard—except that they require a minimum of ten years teaching experience. “Tell me about the school,” I prompt. I’ve already assumed it’s small, since the village is isolated and there are no teachers left at all.

“Uhhh… I think Sam said there’s about seventy-ish kids. And they need two teachers—one for the little ones, and one for the older kids. I guess there’s probably a building with classrooms too?”

I roll my eyes, considering. If there are only two teachers for all the children, it makes a little more sense that they want experience. There would be no staff backup, no group to talk over issues with. “Who acts as principal?” I ask. “One of the teachers, or someone else?”

“Garrett, cuz, I have no clue. I can put you in touch with the people who know. Can I tell Sam you’ll help us find people?”

Excitement stirs slowly in my gut as I Google Maps the location of the settlement. Alistair wasn’t wrong when he said the Swiss Alps. This place is smack bang in the middle, and not close to anywhere else. “You can tell him I’ll help. But I don’t think we’ll need to find people.”

There’s a confused pause. “Do you have some locked in your basement or something? Because I gotta tell you, Sam frowns on that kind of thing.”

Sometimes I wonder if my aunt dropped him on his head when he was a baby. And then stepped on him a few times. “No, Alistair. I don’t have anyone locked in my basement.”

“Then why won’t we need to find anyone?”

I stare at the location pinned on the map. “Because I’ll do it myself.”

* * *

Three weeks later,I let the door of my hotel room close behind me, then wait five cautious seconds to make sure nobody’s going to knock before letting out a sigh of relief and dropping my overnight bag. I’m a little more cautious with my laptop bag, because this is my fifth laptop of the year already, and it’s not quite September yet. I keep forgetting technology isn’t as sturdy as people.

Stepping over both, I close the distance to the bed and fall onto it. The mattress is amazing. I must remember to thank the demons who’re paying for this incredible five-star hotel. Hopefully their willingness to put me up in luxury now will equate to a willingness to listen to my advice later, when I’m living in their isolated village in the alps, trying to educate their children and turn their town into a haven for all species. Because Alistair left a few things out during our conversation, like the fact that Lucifer Sam and the village council have decided they need to attract other species to live there. As far as I can tell, the main problem seems to be how cut off the town is during winter. It’s not a problem for demons, who can teleport, but other species find the isolation difficult.

As a social anthropologist, this kind of situation is heaven. The village council have asked me to assess whether there might be any other hurdles to making Hortplatz attractive for non-demons, and I get to observe how demons function in isolation. Maybe I’ll even get to see some of their more private ceremonies. Demons are fanatically protective of their important rituals, and not many outsiders get to witness them, even when the demons are fully integrated with other species. I’ll step carefully, though. I’ve found it’s always wise to be cautious when dealing with smaller, more isolated groups. Although a village of a thousand people isn’tthatsmall, comparatively.

Regardless of whether they welcome me with open arms or stonewall me at every turn, I’m excited about this opportunity. Social anthropology is my passion and my current career. Studying people and figuring out why and how they make up groups and societies is the most fascinating thing in existence, and anyone who says otherwise is clearly wrong. A group of children who’ve never known any species other than their own? Fascinating.

I’m only slightly annoyed that I now owe Alistair a favor for sending this my way. I love my cousin—really, I do—and sometimes I even like him, but he’s so damn annoying. And now he’s all smug because he’s pulled this off. He was unbearable when he introduced me to the lucifer—his best friend, Sam.

Lucifer Sam was thrilled to have me take on the job, since it saved him having to interview people. I’m still not entirely sure how he even came to be involved—he doesn’t live in the village, or even on the same continent, doesn’t have a child in the school, and isn’t even a demon. When I politely asked, he just shuddered, shook his head, and muttered, “Damaris.” Alistair grinned and told me all would be made clear eventually.

The agreement we settled on, with Lucifer Sam and his demon boyfriend, Gideon (terrifying man, seriously), acting as representatives for the village, was that I’d oversee the classes and curriculum, basically acting as principal in conjunction with the village council, while the two post-doc researchers—both qualified teachers themselves—I’ve brought with me will do most of the hands-on teaching. This will allow us to also do the groundwork for the paper I plan to publish. The village council expressed some concern initially about my research, but I assured them of anonymity, and the lucifer showed them my research credentials, and that satisfied them. I’ll be there for the entire school year, during which time I’ll put together a comprehensive plan for ways they can attract other species to their village.

Then I’ll send my team home and spend the summer helping them recruit new teachers while I write my paper. My leave of absence from Cambridge is only for twelve months, but by then, there should be at least a few new people of other species living in the village, which might help to overcome the other negatives—that it snows for most of the year and for at least four months, they’ll be dependent on demons teleporting them places if they want to leave. I’m not a fan of being teleported by demons—the post-teleport sickness hits me hard. It’s part of the reason I insisted on driving from England. Sure, I’d like to have my car with me this year, but also, the thought of a long-distance teleport almost convinced me not to go.

Too bad Annie, one of my researchers, gets car sick. We broke the drive down over three days to make it easier for her, but she’s still had a tough time. I don’t know why she didn’t take me up on the offer to fly instead. But her misery has led Sid, my other researcher who has a poorly hidden crush on her, to fall completely apart. I’ve basically been babysitting them both for the past day and a half.

I wriggle to settle more comfortably on the bed. That’s all over for now. I’ve got two nights in this delightful hotel in Zurich to relax before we drive south into the alps. Jesse, the demon species leader who’s in charge of the village, suggested this break. Apparently the road into town is difficult.

So… since I’ll be working responsibly in a small village for the next year, I plan to have a little nap now, maybe a room service dinner, and then go out and find someone to fuck me into oblivion for twenty-four hours. Then I’ll kick him out, get a good night’s sleep, and be ready to tackle my new project.

It’s the perfect plan.

CHAPTERTWO

Asher

I’m excellent at math.Honestly, it’s a gift. Some people can paint, others can understand complicated legal issues. I look at a page of complex equations and justknowwhat the answer is… and why.

But the kind of math I’m trying to do right now… not so much. Because seriously, the biggest variable in this equation is how mad my grandmother would be if I ignored her call, and nobody can predict something like that. The woman changes emotional direction faster than a windsock in a tornado.

Sighing, I answer. “Hi, Grandmother.”

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