Page 5 of A Light in the Dark
FIVE
On a good day, my job sucked.
Unlike most of the other internal employees at the bookkeeping firm I worked for, I dressed for the job I wanted rather than the one I had. I’d told Joel the truth about my job as a paper pusher. My status as a transient, even though I’d been born in the city-state, had limited me to a role where I would never run into any of the firm’s clients, mostly larger businesses that wanted to cut corners and overhead by outsourcing their bookkeeping.
Every sheet of paper to enter our doors went through me first. I evaluated every invoice, every file, and every scrap of information to be sent to us, making certain everything went into its appropriate place. Whenever I found something questionable, it went to our legal department for review. If an invoice had gone unpaid, it went to the accountants to follow up with the originating company. While I knew nothing about payroll, the logs of who had been paid what and when fell to me, and the management expected me to ferret out any issues.
On a good day, my job sucked.
When I had been hired, for a janitorial position, I’d told them higher education had been on my list of things to do, but the cost had been beyond my grasp. I’d chosen to be a homeowner in Stonecreek instead of going through the hurdles of college or university.
When the city-state issued an education grant, they let the recipients decide how the money was used. I’d chosen buying my home, as I’d hoped I would be able to afford my education if I didn’t have to pay rent or a mortgage.
I’d lasted three whole weeks as a janitor before I’d been given a stack of papers and asked to help them clean things up. I still questioned how I’d gone from sweeping and vacuuming floors to digging my hands into every element of the firm’s work. But the move from janitor to paper pusher had come with a hefty raise, good benefits, and stable hours. My boss expected me to work, which I did, but I even got an hour of paid time for lunch, and nobody cared if I read a book in the break room.
My boss’s boss, Mrs. Lousrin, had praised me for my organizational skills, and after six months of making sure our bookkeepers could do their jobs efficiently, I’d been granted a second raise, one that put me at making almost double what a janitor made.
The math had worked out in my favor, and so I’d worked hard to keep my position, developing a severe case of perfectionism.
And so, dressed in a blazer with a silk top and a knee- length pencil skirt, I conquered the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated with the break from the floods. Life had gone on without any of us, and judging from the dates on the letterheads, our clients had started their work on Friday and had busted ass through the weekend.
Our clients reported ten fatalities from the floods, and rather than just put the papers aside and send them over to the appropriate contact within the firm, I took the time to read the overviews. When available, the notices included how the person had died. Six of the victims had been refugees, two had been transients from the outskirts of the city-state, like me, and the remaining two had been born in Stonecreek.
Those two had gotten unlucky, a husband and wife living at the very bottom of the hill.
The floods had eaten away at their foundations over the years, and the entirety of their home had collapsed. Their bodies hadn’t been recovered, and it was doubtful anyone would find them once the waters finished receding from the lakes at the bottom.
The transients had shared a similar fate, although their homes hadn’t flooded out completely. Their bodies had been recovered in one of the nets thrown out after the worst of the debris had passed through.
They’d held on long enough for the nets to have been raised into position.
I’d moved into Stonecreek proper after understanding the risks, having my foundations shored with a mix of magic and technology, and had picked a street with no known history of washouts. I wanted to live, and I’d been willing to drain my bank account dry securing my safety .
From top to bottom, I’d gotten lucky. I had an employer who had seen my worth despite my lack of higher education, one who had been willing to train me on the job and gave me a competitive salary for the work I did. I wouldn’t move up anywhere, but I had a role in an environment I liked.
I just dressed for the jobs I could never hold in Stonecreek.
The notes on the refugees claimed general misfortune at having been caught in the flood waters. I noted that, like Gabriella, they had resided near the top of the hill. While under a non-disclosure agreement, nothing within it barred me from reporting some of the details, like the deaths of six refugees, to the Hunters. The phone burned a hole in my purse, but I’d made the decision I would only use it when in the relative safety of home.
Gathering the fatality reports, I headed for my boss’s office, as he preferred to handle such matters personally. Taking a deep breath to soothe my nerves, I knocked on his door, which had been left cracked open.
“Enter,” Mr. Accor ordered.
I stepped into his office, ignored the mountains of paperwork with a pathway between them, and picked my way to his desk, wondering when he’d get around to asking me to tame the insanity. “I have today’s fatality reports from our clients, sir.”
The older man had the decency to wince. “I see. How bad is it this year?”
“Six refugees, two transients, and two city natives perished, I’m afraid.” Once close enough I could hand over the stack without having to stretch, I offered the sheets. “One firm lost two employees, as they were married and their home washed out. Two other deaths were due to properties washing out.”
“And the refugees?”
“It appears they had not understood the dire nature of our flooding.”
“How regrettable.” Mr. Accor took the sheets, flipped through them, and nodded. “I’ll handle this promptly. The tax implications of refugee deaths are quite complicated, so we’ll need extra time to work on this. Thank you for bringing this to my direct attention. How is the influx?”
“It’ll take me a week to get through it,” I predicted. “It might take longer depending on what happens in the next batch. I don’t have everything in from everybody, and at first look, I don’t think we have everything from the clients that have sent us information.”
“Even worse than normal, then. How did your street fare?”
“We lost all our steps, but that’s where our damage seems to have ended. The businesses on the other side of the street have quite a lot of cleanup ahead of them, but the residential side has been dealt with, including the installation of our new steps.”
My boss chuckled. “As usual, you’re ahead of the curve. We have six employees out because their steps haven’t been fixed yet, and it might be a few days until they have reliable ways of getting out of their homes.”
I grimaced; my first year, I’d made that sort of mistake, failing to have a ladder of any sort to get in and out of my home. “I bought a rope ladder for this year. It was an excellent investment. It’s a little harder to climb, but it’s a lot easier to deal with. ”
“I’m going to have to try that next year. Mine’s a pain in the ass.”
When my boss cursed, his day had gone from bad to worse, and I wondered what had been going on that hadn’t crossed my desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”
The man narrowed his eyes and looked me over. “Actually, yes. One of our clients has a dead fax machine, and they have a box of papers they’d like us to work through this week. They’re a half mile from us up the hill. Would you mind fetching it for me?”
At a half mile up the hill, the client was likely one of the marketing firms that had a tendency to lose papers if they didn’t fax things right away. I’d passed their offices numerous times, but I hadn’t met any of the employees. As a box of papers couldn’t weigh any more than some of the stones I’d hauled around, I nodded. “If you call and warn them, I’ll head over now and pick up the box. I haven’t taken lunch yet, so I can fetch the box, get it situated at my desk, take my lunch, and then start on it when I’m back.”
“As always, you’re a lifesaver, Valerie. I’ll let them know you’re swinging by. Just watch your footing on the hill. They’ve been slow about the street cleaning this year, and they’ve been washing down a lot of debris in the streets. Cars are barred on our stretch for another week.”
As I didn’t own a car and tended to walk everywhere, I hadn’t paid any attention to the street situation beyond a longer than normal runoff period. My house had been as cheap as it was due to the lack of parking.
Garages cost a great deal to proof against the floods, requiring strong magic. Joel’s place had a garage on the other side of his property, although I’d never seen his vehicle .
Those farther up the hill tended to have cars, and they could afford to proof their garages against the hazards of the yearly floods. The places nearest to the levees and dams tended to abandon ship in the weeks leading up to the release of the waters, a wise move all things considered.
“Is your car in the lot here?” I asked.
Mr. Accor expected the question, as he loved his car second only to his wife and kids.
“It is, and we didn’t get any leaking this year. The extra shoring worked out well.”
“That’s great. I’ll go get the box now. Leave a message at my desk if you need anything before then, sir. I’ll check for any notes before I head out to lunch.”
“I shouldn’t, but thank you. Enjoy the fresh air.”
I would until I needed to haul a heavy box, but I wouldn’t tell him that. “I’ll be back soon.”
One box turned into three, but one of the client’s employees provided a dolly for my use while apologizing profusely. I lost an extra ten minutes assuring the frazzled woman, a refugee if I judged by her accent and the darker tone of her skin, that everything was fine. Few citizens of Stonecreek had her shade of skin, although there were some families living in the outskirts who’d originally come from one of the desert city-states with similar tones.
I took care to smooth feathers over with the refugee’s boss, who’d come to make certain the papers were on route to their proper destination .
The refugee’s boss, someone I’d met at our firm once, was an old traditionalist I loathed on a good day, cost me twenty minutes, as he gushed on and on and on about how they were doing their part to welcome Earth’s survivors into Stonecreek. I recognized the show for what it was. I’d heard the bastard complain about how refugees would be coming for their jobs and wealth during his visit to my company.
As soon as I got home, I would be sending a concerned text to the Hunters about Madeline, who couldn’t have been more anxious about the situation had she tried.
What had triggered the woman’s fear? Dealing with her asshole of a boss could do it, but was that all? As I’d already been delayed, I asked Madeline’s boss if the refugee might walk back with me to my office, as the hill was steep and two people would make the jaunt safely—and Madeline could return the dolly at the same time. While the manager hesitated, he agreed. I assumed his status as young played a role, especially as he’d chosen to dress down rather than up.
If the jerk believed his eyes, my company had sent someone higher up the chain to fetch papers.
I admired my boss’s cunning.
Once on the street, I took care to stay relaxed and smiled at Madeline. “Welcome to Stonecreek. May I ask where you’re from?”
After much flailing over the situation, everyone, the refugees included, had settled on that question as a way to express curiosity in an acceptable fashion. Some refugees loved having a chance to remember Earth. Those who didn’t gave the canned reply of their entry gate, usually Moonriver. We had a few imports from other gates, who’d traveled by ship to reach our world following the destruction of theirs .
The woman’s smile carried with it grief, but something about her relaxed. “I was from Bolivia, and I had traveled to India for a holiday. I was staying in a town with a portal when the volcanoes awakened. I escaped through that portal, and then they sent me here through another portal. I got lucky. I was scheduled to go to a different area of India, where they had a major volcano erupt two days later.”
There was luck, and then there was dodging certain death by two days. I considered her words, particularly about her entry portal. Stonecreek did have a portal in the outskirts, which connected to one of the inner universe planets, a conservation planet with more advanced tech than ours. Unlike the Moonriver portals, Stonecreek rarely activated theirs.
I wondered if her entry point played a role in her survival.
The bonus for the refugees only applied to the refugees who’d entered through Moonriver’s portal during the exodus, that much I’d learned from the radio and television broadcasts.
“Tell me about Bolivia,” I requested. “It’s mountainous, isn’t it?”
Madeline’s expression brightened. “You have heard of my home?”
Then, much like the floodgates releasing their waters, words poured out of the woman, a rush so strong I suspected her emotions boiled out of her. I learned she’d been born in the high peaks where the land kissed the sky, and she had grown up fixing old truck engines so they could barter with those in the valleys below. They’d cared for herds of animals with soft, thick coats, and she’d learned to weave long before she’d ever written her first letter on a page.
She still weaved, pulling apart old scraps of cloth for the fibers and creating something new.
Technology had mostly passed them by in her slice of the world, making our world comforting in many of its similarities.
By the time we reached my workplace, taken at a stately pace so we wouldn’t slip and send papers flying into the street and to their ruin, I marveled at the woman’s strength and love for the home she’d lost. I gave her my landline number and told her to give me a call if she wanted a friend in the city. To give her something to look forward to, I told her I knew of a store that sold fibers that could be spun, and I’d love to take her to it.
To my delight, it took her less than five minutes to memorize my number, and she promised she would call and leave a message.
I advised her against telling any of her co-workers about our interest in visiting the fiber store.
They wouldn’t understand.
Her knowing nod offered some hope we’d be able to meet without anyone being the wiser about our newfound friendship.
Twenty minutes later, we delivered the box to my desk, and I escorted her out of the building, observing until she made it up the hill before heading back inside to have my lunch.
As I’d made enough chili for two people during the flood, I’d made a point of freezing it in containers to take to work, and I settled in the office kitchen, staring at the microwave while it heated my meal. Staring did not make the seconds tick down faster, a disappointment all things considered.
I’d put in my best effort on the chili, expecting someone other than just me to eat it.
“Some of our clients are fools,” my boss announced from behind me.
“How so?” I asked, aware that if Mr. Accor wanted to chat in the kitchen that it was something either of major importance or of upmost curiosity. “I mean, some of them definitely do not learn from their mistakes.”
“That firm has not reported that they have refugee employees to the government.”
That caught my attention. While it wasn’t legally required to, the firms that hired refugees got tax benefits for doing it, no matter how the refugee ended up in Stonecreek. “Would you like me to send the general reminders pack to them with the refugee information in the top section?”
“That would be ideal, yes. Thank you. Did you get the woman’s name?”
“Madeline.”
“What do you think of her?”
I took a moment to consider how best to respond, as I didn’t want to leave the wrong impression with my boss. Not everyone in Stonecreek appreciated the refugees. I supported their presence, but I knew better than to go telling people about my opinion. Natural-born residents tended to be freer with their tongues. After witnessing Gabriella’s plight, I realized I stood on unstable ground. “She’s a little skittish, but she’s a hard worker who wants to please. She loved her home and got lucky to leave Earth.”
“You need an assistant, and you were able to hold an entire conversation with her without either one of you appearing ready to indulge in a murder. I’ll inquire; if they aren’t filing their taxes for her, she may just be a temporary fill. I bet I can get them to dance and allow us to poach her. Would you be all right with that?”
What was even going on? Mr. Accor wanted to poach from a client? Then the reality of his words sank in. “You want me to have an assistant?”
If there were four of me, I doubted I’d be able to get done the massive workload in a timely fashion, especially when it came time to file all the important papers our clients often left to the last minute.
“I do. You’re invaluable doing what you’re doing, and you make us far more efficient than I ever thought possible. You need an assistant, and I’m sure you can train just about anyone to dance to your tune. I’ll admit, we have an allotment for a refugee employee, and I’d rather poach someone I suspect will get along with you without any adaptation period. Do you think you can train her?”
I knew I could. “Absolutely. She seems smart, and there are a lot of times just having an extra pair of hands would be hugely helpful.”
“Housing her will be our responsibility, but I’m after a long-term employee, and providing a house for a refugee is a small price to pay. After lunch, come to my office. I want your advice on some properties that might be suitable. You live a bit down the hill, yes?”
“I do.”
“Good, you know the neighborhoods there better than I do, so you can help me find her a safe place. ”
My worries once again roused. Why was Mr. Accor so worried about her safety?
What did he know that I didn’t?
“I can take a short lunch or eat in your office if you don’t mind the smell of chili.”
“I’ll authorize the overtime payment. With the floods now over, there aren’t any residences open, that much I did check. If we get her employment contract, do you have a spare bedroom? We would be paying her lodging.”
“I have a spare bedroom, and I wouldn’t mind having a short-term guest.”
“That solves that problem if the bosses don’t want to put her up in a hotel. I’ll get the government rate for housing, and then I’ll double it. That might be closer to what it’s worth to house a co-worker for a few weeks while we find and close on a home for her. Oh, that reminds me. Did you need to do any repairs on your property beyond the steps?”
“I only needed to replace my steps, but it was at supplies only.”
“How’d you get that good of a deal?”
Like I had with Joel, I posed and showed off my bicep. “I conquer mountains of paperwork by day and work with mortar and stone by night. I even leveled my steps and put in the rail myself.”
My boss chuckled. “Very well done, Valerie. I had to pay a fortune to get my steps replaced, and I have a whole new admiration for those who can do it themselves.”
“If you can lift forty pounds, I can show you how to do it. If you like working with your hands, it’s actually enjoyable.”
“I believe I’ll take you up on that. I can lift forty pounds, and I get bored after two days of sitting around and doing nothing.”
“Well, I can promise that much. You won’t be bored building your steps, and once you’re done, you’ll be too tired to care if you’re bored.”
“After the floods, I couldn’t ask for better. I’ve got a neighbor who is stubborn and refuses to pay out for new steps at the post-flood prices. Any chance you can teach me to do the work while we help her out?”
“Sure. I’ll email you the material list tonight, then she can order her supplies and have them delivered. Once they’re delivered, I can give a few hours after work to help you assemble the steps. With two people, it won’t take long at all, but she’ll need to give her steps time to cure unless she’s got magic at her disposal.”
“She doesn’t, but one of our neighbors does; he’s a stone crafter. He just doesn’t have the time to do the full installation. It’s his busy season.”
No kidding. “Any day during the week should be fine to help with that.”
“What’s your going rate for the work?”
I shook my head and waved him off. “Neighbors help neighbors. If she’s the type who wants to repay, I have a grill and could use a good steak or two for it.”
“I’m sure she can handle acquiring a few steaks in exchange for help getting her stairs rebuilt. I’ll keep an eye out for your email.”
I nodded. The microwave beeped, and I took out my lunch, determining I’d made a good guess for how long to heat my food. I transferred my chili to one of the office bowls, rinsed my container, and delivered it to my desk before following my boss into his office, armed with a spoon and a few regrets I wouldn’t get to read a book over my break. However, even a little overtime helped, and aware my living situation might not be as stable as I’d prefer, I’d be squirreling away every cent.
My house would sell for well above what I paid for it, however.
I’d done great work on the place, and it would last through the years with minimal repairs to the foundation.
If I needed to leave, I could in relative comfort.
In Mr. Accor’s office, even more papers had bred since I’d last been in there, and it amazed me the man had room behind his desk for two chairs. Somehow, we both fit, and I even had a spot on his desk to put my bowl while we browsed the latest real estate offerings. Since I’d moved in, housing prices had gone up, quality had gone down, but I spotted a building that looked rough yet had a solid foundation and could be turned into a place like mine with some work.
I pointed at the listing. “That one is worth looking at.”
“It looks like a dump,” my boss complained.
“That dump has a new foundation, and it’s been magically shored.” I took the mouse, opened the pictures of the foundation, and pointed at the tell-tale signs of magic having been used to make sure the floods couldn’t defeat the concrete. Most importantly, the company’s sigil remained in place beside where the stairs had once been. “See that marking?”
“I do. It looks like somebody with a love of triangles had been given a stamp and free rein.”
I giggled, as the sigil had so many overlapping triangles, I’d amused myself counting them. I’d gotten up to fifty unique triangles by the time I’d gotten bored and given up. “That’s the company I used to do the work on mine. They’re more expensive, but they have a twenty year warranty, and anything that damages that foundation counts, no questions asked. If I damage it taking a sledge to it, their magic wasn’t done correctly, and they’ll fix and reshore the foundation. My place has a basement, but I don’t use it. I’ve been told that no matter what the disaster, my foundation will be left standing. I paid a lot for the work, but they mean business. Part of the contract means I can call once a year to have the foundation inspected, which I’ll do in a few weeks after the flood rush tapers down a bit.”
“That’s really good to know.”
I checked through the other pictures. “Most of this is cosmetic damage, and I bet twenty grand will get the repairs done.”
“That’s it?”
“It just looks awful. Yeah, it needs to be painted, but there aren’t any cracks in the wall, the fixtures look okay, and while you’ll definitely want an inspection, it more looks like whoever lived here just didn’t care about the cosmetics.” I shrugged. “My home was similar.” Then, because I’d kept my place pristine following the flood, I went out on a limb and offered, “You can come to my place and see what it looks like, but it was in similar condition when I bought.”
Mr. Accor checked his clock. “Actually, I’d like that. Do you have anything that can’t wait until tomorrow?”
I considered that, then I shook my head. “I don’t.”
“I’ll get an appointment to see that house; I know the agent, so I bet we can get in today. You go finish your lunch and get your things. While you do that, I’ll poach Madeline and get the paperwork on her acquisition started. I’ll offer a free month of services to take their refugee off their hands, and I suspect she’ll be in much better hands with you than with them.”
If their paperwork related to how they handled employees, I could believe that without hesitation. I picked up my chili, saluted my boss with the bowl, and said, “Give me thirty, and I’ll be ready to go.”