My hand is like a claw as I fumble around for my seatbelt. I hum along, my teeth digging into my lower lip. It’s like there’s a spotlight on me, and one of them will notice it in a moment.
“Mm. I’m not hearing any of this,” I add in a voice that is light, but just stiff enough to remind them I’m in MR, hypocritical of me or not.
Thankfully that’s enough to stifle that line of conversation before it turns in a direction that is only marginally better.
“What’s the juiciest thing that’s ever happened at the office?” a vampire girl asks me.
Kathy makes a too-obvious death glare in my direction. Someone thinks a lot of herself. Still, I press my lips together and shake my head, to some groans.
“Well, I was on the floor below when Soven terminated Randall,” Kathy offers after a moment, “The vortex nearly got me too!”
The ride is short, thankfully, and I manage to stay out of most of the conversation. We get out of the cab and separate, none of us really willing to hang out together.
The night sky looms overhead, little pinprick stars scattered through the greenish miasma. I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it, seeing the cosmos this much closer. It’s the little New Dark Reign things that really make you feel small and insignificant like this.
I feel a prickle on my skin as I notice a shape on the roofline that breaks the symmetry. A shiver crosses my shoulders.
Vlad.
My heart quickens, and I hang back from the rest of the group as they head inside, watching the silhouette of him stretching his wings wide against the moon.
I take the elevator to the top floor and find the stairs to the roof.
It looks mostly empty as I push through the door, walking the flat cement around the hotel’s various vents, but I stop when I find him.
He’s got one foot against the low stone barrier trimming the building’s perimeter, his wings spread wide, the wind barely affecting them.
I’m struck, suddenly, by a wave of nostalgia for when I worked in the Peaks. It seemed like every office in the building had this kind of view. I don’t see it much now, working at home with my screens. But it makes a different sort of sense now, knowing he is a gargoyle. I wonder what it means, what it feels like to need this kind of elevation as more than just a habitat.
And then he turns and looks at me.
I smile, unable to stop myself. “Hi, stranger.”
“Hi, yourself.”
He dips a hand into his jacket and pulls out the little pad of paper. By the way the corners have been curled up, I can tell he’s been looking at the doodles.
“You left your notes behind from the last meeting.”
Red rushes to my cheeks, to be caught not paying attention, to let someone see what I’m focusing on instead of what I’m supposed to be.
“Oh, my...really intensive and painstakingly detailed notes,” I mumble, because it’s pretty clear they’re anything but that.
“I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“Artist, no. I’m more of a world-class daydreamer.”
There’s some kind of vent that has enough of a cubic shape that I can sit on it near him without getting too close to the edge. I can still see enough of the skyline, dark and swirling with mist.
“I noticed you’re not on the presentation schedule for tomorrow.”
“Oh. Um, yeah,” I tuck some of my hair out of my face, glancing away. “You got me.”
He’s quiet for a long, long moment, and I can feel the way his assessment of me must be steadily lowering. I talked a big game about knowing anything about the field of Monster Resources, but it’s all just things other people have said before me.
It’s amazing that I’ve worked here this long without anyone discovering that I’m not actually good at my job and I don’t have anything to contribute. I’ve just been getting along by the skin of my teeth and staying out of the spotlight. Maybe if no one notices that I’m not supposed to be here, they’ll never realize that I’m not qualified to do anything that I do at my job.
“I don’t really do anything important enough to warrant a spot in the schedule. I usually just send out a memo when there’s a policy change.”
