Page 11 of Colin Gets Promoted and Dooms the World
Just in time, I snapped my eyes shut. The thing in front of me was a haunt, a parasite drawn to sites of dark magic. They slipped into people’s reflections and waited for them to meet their gaze, then snatched them into the World Behind the Mirrors, where their victims slowly wasted away, consumed by the voracious appetites of their captors. Avoiding them was one of the most basic survival skills employees acquired at Dark Enterprises. It was also why so many people walked around with food stuck in their teeth, given that mirrors were potentially lethal. I was mortified that I’d made such a rookie mistake.
Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I waited for the elevator doors to roll open before shuffling out into the chilly, quiet environs of the executive floor. Letting out a quiet breath, I opened my eyes again and then started off down the corridor. The atmosphere prickled uncomfortably with the intangible pressure of blackest sorcery, and off in the distance someone screamed as I turned into the hallway that led back to Ms.Crenshaw’s office, my shoes tapping quietly against the obsidian floors. Ahead of me, a middle-aged white woman stepped out of a doorway while dabbing at the front of her cream-colored blouse with a Kleenex. I offered a friendly smile as I veered around her, a quick glance telling me that the tissue wasn’t doing much to help with the thick spatter of blood that had stained the fabric.
She glanced up and rolled her eyes when she saw me. “I hate it when they struggle,” she said, and I nodded sympathetically on my way by. I assumed either she was checking auguries in the entrails ofan unfortunate mammal or someone was undergoing a particularly bad performance review. Maybe both.
Wondering absently how often I would find myself sprayed with blood in the weeks and months to come, I knocked quietly on the open door to Ms.Crenshaw’s office. Looking up from where she sat behind her desk, she said, “All done? Excellent. Have a seat, Colin.” As I sank into the chair I’d used earlier, I realized that the windows now looked out over a craggy, windswept beach of dark stone, pummeled relentlessly by the waves of an agitated ocean beneath slate-gray skies. The scene had a gloomy, lonely kind of grandeur to it, and I watched the water heave and crash for a while before remembering where I was.
Ms.Crenshaw was studying me when my attention snapped back to her, and I flushed self-consciously. “Now that you’ve signed the requisite paperwork,” she said, “I want to explain to you what an executive assistantship means here on the thirteenth floor. In some ways, it’s what you would probably expect: running errands for me, managing my calendar, liaising with departments on my behalf. You will see how the company functions, from its interactions with clients to the requests we receive from Management.
“At the same time, I will introduce you to corporate mysteries known only to a select few. I will teach you the names of the forty-nine Lords of Sin and Vice, the secret words that draw the attention of the Deep Ones, and the sacrifices demanded by the dark gods who dwell behind this world. Under my supervision, you will learn how to prepare tinctures to compel obedience, how to summon entities from the Outer Realms, how to exsanguinate a human body quickly or slowly, how to inflict the fourteen kinds of pain. If you survive my tutelage, you will eventually be tested for elevation to middle management.”
I listened in rapt silence as goose bumps rippled across my entire body. It all sounded absolutely thrilling. I couldn’t wait to get started.
“Make no mistake, however.” Ms.Crenshaw’s eyes were dark pools, cool and deep. “The path to middle management is not an easy one. A single misstep will lead to death, damnation, or worse. Over the years I’ve lost more assistants than I can count to carelessness, misfortune, and betrayal.” She said this casually, as if it were unimportant. “I’ll be frank: your chances of ascending to middle management are small. If you fail…” She shrugged. “Well, there are always more assistants.”
Suddenly, this didn’t seem quite so thrilling. “I’m not sure—”
“You told me that you wanted to be powerful. Is that still true?”
I jerked my head in an uncertain nod. I did want it, more than I’d ever wanted anything.
“Learn from me, Colin, and you will bend reality to your will.Thatis true power. Everything else—money, fame, love—pales in comparison.”
I watched as towering waves rose and crashed behind her. I’d sold my soul, or worse, for this opportunity. There was no question of turning back now. “Where do I start?”
“With this.” Ms.Crenshaw touched a massive tome bound in crimson leather sitting on her desk, then pushed it across to me. “These are the company policies for Dark Enterprises. You will be expected to learn them before you ascend.”
Pulling the book closer with some effort, I flipped it open and silently read the first passage I saw.In accordance with policy 317.21.49-c, subsection b-8.1, any communication with the Outer Darkness must employ a Type A2 protective ward (see policy 92.54-1 regarding proper ward construction and maintenance) soas to limit employee exposure to psychic feedback. Should an employee be compromised by Those Who Dwell Beyond the Stars, company-sanctioned options for remediation include (1) full mind-scraping followed by reintegrative therapy; (2) isolation in a quarantine unit of Category 4 or higher, for further study by Research and Development; and (3) termination.
I looked up at Ms.Crenshaw. “I have no idea what any of this means.”
“You will understand it eventually, or your employment here will end before it matters. Either way, there’s no need to worry about it now.”
I swallowed and nodded, slowly closing the book in front of me.
Glancing at the slender watch on her wrist, Ms.Crenshaw added, “You might as well head home early today, Colin.” Her expression was inscrutable as she watched me. “I hope you have a pleasant weekend. Your future begins on Monday.”
I walked out of thebuilding buoyed by exhilaration and relief. I was no longer a Class 5 Data Analyst, lowest of the low—I was a Class 4-A Executive Assistant (Probationary). Sure, I still had some unknown and possibly horrific price to pay for my promotion, and yes, it sounded like there was a decent chance my new job would kill me, but these were minor details. Right then, in that moment, I was on top of the world.
Unfortunately, nothing is more humbling than forty-five minutes spent in the clutches of the MTA. After being shoved, pummeled, and jostled by my fellow commuters and then yelled at by a wild-eyed woman convinced I was a lizard person, I dragged mydeflated ego out of the 145th Street station and walked four blocks to my building. The apartment was quiet, Amira’s bedroom empty. She was still on campus. No, wait, it was Friday—she was at yoga.
I wandered around restlessly, excited to tell her my news, glancing out the window every two minutes. That was why I finally caught sight of her standing on the sidewalk outside our building, yoga mat tucked under one arm as she chatted with someone. Amalesomeone. His back was to me so all I could see was short dark hair and a set of broad shoulders under a faded green T-shirt. He was carrying a yoga mat as well, and when he waved goodbye to Amira and walked off down the sidewalk, I allowed myself a little light ogling. As Amira’s roommate and best friend, I had a sacred obligation to study this guy’s skimpy shorts and provide a fair and objective assessment of what he had going on. In my expert opinion, what he had going on wasfine. If she was putting the moves on this guy, I approved.
I was practically halfway out the window when Amira walked through the door. “What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing!” I said quickly as I stopped my ogling and turned to give her an innocent smile.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Ouch. That hurts.”
Coming to stand next to me, she glanced out the window. “You weren’t making obscene gestures at the grumpy old man in the next building again, were you?”
“Me? I would never.”
“Then why do you look gleeful?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said casually, examining my fingernails. “Maybe it’s because I got a promotion.”
