Page 1 of Code Mages & Empty Pages (Frostfire #2)

Dawn

I deserved a gold star for not quitting my new job on the first day.

“I don’t want to do this” looped in my head as I drove to Frostfire Real Estate’s temporary car park, which was far enough from the office I didn’t think it could be considered the company’s car park.

“We had to pivot,” my new boss told me at my job interview, “and set up a new car park on the other side of Gillam Park.” Kirkmuir’s trades’ quarter was undergoing a renaissance. There were construction sites everywhere and entire roads in and out were closed off.

Yet, despite the inconvenience and even though the boss filled the room with grand pronouncements and frosty bravado, I’d accepted Frostfire’s offer. Beneath all the hot air, he sounded like a man who meant every word.

So here I was, a week later, trudging across the city to the building’s neat courtyard with a fountain in the middle, and finally, up the stairs to the glass doors of Frostfire Real Estate.

I had made it over the threshold when I spotted Samuel Carson. Was it normal that the company’s CEO met you in the entrance hall to welcome you? Overkill, anyone? Way to throw my brain off kilter right away.

“Welcome! Everyone is eagerly expecting your arrival, Ms Kent. The situation in our IT department has been dire, to say the least!” he boomed, startling the receptionist. He’d already told me at the job interview, which explained why it had felt like a mere formality.

Carson had clarified that he had no other applicants for the position and that, if I wanted the job, it was mine.

And I needed it. If I had to sit through another week of staring at my blank KrakenDoc instead of writing my next novel, I’d flip.

FrostFire paid well and it was an indefinite contract, and—from what Desmond Murray, the team lead, told me after my interview—the work wasn’t too demanding.

It wasn’t as if this was my new career; it was just to get by, so I didn’t mind.

“Have you met Ms Wren?” Carson asked me.

“Oh, no, not officially,” I said, and he led me over to her counter in the middle of the hall.

“Harper Wren, this is Dawn Kent, our new team assistant for the IT department.” Harper and I shook hands, and before we could say anything, Carson spoke again. “Ah, and here comes... Ms Kent, meet Rowan Boswell. They’re in charge of our physical mail.”

The most unusual hybrid I had ever seen undulated up to Harper’s counter and actively avoided looking her way. It was painful to watch. Boswell was a tiger snail hybrid with a wide mouth and their eyes set on feelers. They drooped over their forehead to look at me.

Oh gosh, I hope they don’t want to shake my hand.

They were a lovely person, but I shuddered at the thought of touching their gleaming greige skin. I hated having wet hands.

“Hello, Ms Kent. It’s nice to meet you,” they said in a measured, fluid voice that sounded like I’d expected.

“Oh, please, call me Dawn.”

They gave me a small smile. “Rowan.”

We both flinched when Carson clapped his hands so forcefully the sound echoed off the walls.

Holy shit, that man was so loud and overwhelming. If he was a little less blustering, he would have been attractive. Carson had navy blue skin and eyes and thick horns that curved up over his head. I filed him away under future MMC inspiration and forced my face to stay neutral.

It had been ages since I had been inspired by someone, but there was an integral part of me that believed I could write again.

After the longest writer’s block of my creative career, I hadn’t been so sure I had another book in me.

Here’s proof.

“Alright, Ms Kent, I have an appointment to get to.” Samuel Carson raised his hand to peer at his expensive wristwatch. “Nyland again. And they told me Norwegians were polite and easy-going.” He huffed. “Can I leave you to find the way on your own?”

“Oh, yes, of course, sir.”

“Welcome to the team.” He gave all of us fatherly nods and left the building. A sleek car waited for him. Its dark blue polish gleamed in the morning sunlight. Carson climbed into the back seat. The car took off.

“Cameron Nyland is the CEO of N?kken Scotland,” Harper told Rowan and me in a conspiratorial voice. “They’re building in Gillam Park. That’s why we have to park so far away. A friend of mine now takes over an hour to get to her job in the city. It’s wild.”

“Oh, I’ve been wondering what they’re doing there,” I told her and turned around.

“Yup. They’re building their headquarters and a huge distribution centre,” Harper said.

“How do you know?” Rowan enquired in a shy voice.

“Information is my currency,” Harper informed them with a tiny wink. Rowan’s spine stiffened. I excused myself when an odd tension unfolded in the air between them. It was time to get to my department.

Let’s meet my new colleagues for real.

“Morning,” I greeted the two men as I entered the office and set my bag down on my desk.

“Morning, Dawn. Welcome to our IT crowd,“ Desmond, the lead IT admin, greeted me with a wide grin.

I liked the guy. His fur was dark grey, and he wore glasses.

They, too, got filed away for a future MMC.

Before I could follow the trail of my inspiration, Luc, an IT support specialist, raised a hand and gave me a little nod. No smile, nothing.

Okay, then. It’s good to see you, too.

Carson had led me to the basement after my interview, and I had met the two massive Lupinians who worked there.

To my surprise, I recognised one of them, or thought I did.

For a moment, I wondered if it was Hector, the Wolfman who’d built my website a couple of years back.

But a closer look showed the differences: my new colleague was chubbier with more fur, though he shared Hector’s silver-tipped coat and silver eyes.

The fact that he didn’t recognise me was another clue this wasn’t the same Wolfman I’d hired before.

They were closely related, though, I was sure of it.

Carson had introduced him as Lucien Atkins, and the team lead with dark grey fur and glasses as Desmond Murray.

Luc had treated me a little coolly, and it bugged me. No matter how charming or funny I’d been during our brief conversation at the interview, Growly hadn’t even cracked a smile. My irritation was probably irrational, but I’d always been everybody’s darling.

That had made my life easier in the past, and now a stubborn part of me wanted to see if I could break through his shell.

Luc had given me the cold shoulder from the moment we met, and he was still at it today. So much for hoping it was just a one-off thing. At least getting my new badge made gave me a reason to escape the department for a bit.

The lady who ran staff management introduced herself as Jeanie MacLeish.

Even though she said she’d been doing this job in HR for over a decade, it was painful to watch her struggle through the process of having me pose so she could take a picture, enter my information into her software, and then print the badge.

“Here you go, Ms Kent,” she said once she’d taken another three minutes—I counted in my head—to thread the ring through a hole in the badge so I could wear it on a branded keychain around my neck.

If I hoped that being away for half an hour would turn Luc Atkins into a warmer version of himself, I was wrong.

Ah, well. I like a challenge. Watch me crack your shell, Growly.

My first task was to familiarise myself with the clunky software I needed to use to assign tasks to my team members.

It infuriated me with its tiny buttons and outdated interface.

Instead of selecting one of my team members straight away, I had to use a fiddly drop-down menu to indicate if the ticket was on site or virtual, then I had to pick a team when we were all part of the same crowd.

Only then was I able to assign it to anyone.

By noon, I was so frustrated, and the faint headache I’d had since I woke up was so strong, that I went into the tea kitchen for an extra strong coffee from the machine there.

The headaches and nausea had started a few weeks after my ex-fiancé, Morgan, moved out. I’d put them down to my through-the-roof cortisol levels, and even my GP had reassured me it was “all in my head.”

You don’t say, mate?

I’d not gone back even though the symptoms were still as bad as before, no matter how many yoga videos I looked up on KrakenVideo or how much I tried to meditate, or “just relax.”

“Rough first day?” a voice from behind me asked when I furiously punched the button for the strength about a hundred times so the bar would fill up a little faster.

I half-turned my head and gave a small huff before I pressed the start button. “No.”

I’ll try again tomorrow, Growly. I’m tired.

Luc gave me a lopsided grimace that could count as a smile if I squinted but stayed outside of the tiny kitchen.

“It’s actually been a good first day. I’m just struggling with the software,” I told him.

“And, honestly, I’ve had this stupid headache since I woke up, but I’m sure it’s just nerves or something.

Or maybe it’s the lighting in here, I don’t know.

I get migraines sometimes. Well, they’re not real migraines, more like nausea and a head full of bees, you know, but—” I cut myself off and took the full cup out from under the sprout.

Shut up, Dawn! You’re rambling.

“Sorry. Anyway, I’m sure it’ll pass. But it was a good day so far.”

Luc just nodded. He waited for me to add a splash of milk to my coffee and let me pass before he went to fetch a cup.

The next days passed in a steady rhythm of learning the ropes, clearing out old files, and fantasising about thinning out the shelves. They were full of spare cables and ancient keyboards. The clutter made me claustrophobic, and the dust it collected didn’t help my headaches, either.

I’d give them a couple more days to get used to me before I confronted them with my plans to rearrange the office.

Perhaps a week. Tops.