Still lonely, though.
At least he wouldn’t make fun of how many books I had anymore. So what if I was a nerd? Nothing wrong with that.
But he was my asshole brother’s problem now.
The Crescent office building was bright and airy, just like my apartment, only not overrun with moving boxes and misery. The company was owned by werewolves, something they’d been very up front about, concerned that a little cat shifter like me might be overwhelmed with the constant feeling of predators breathing down my neck.
But again, I was a nerd. I’d grown up going to a huge overpopulated Boston public school, and had always felt like there were predators all around me, whether they were actual predators like werewolves, or just jocks who thought it was hilariously funny that I enjoyed reading, and liked to trip me in the school hallways when my nose was stuck in a book instead of paying attention to where I was going.
Frankly, werewolves worried me less. I’d never met one I hadn’t liked, and overall found them to be community-minded and pleasant company. It wasn’t like they ate house cats, let alone house-cat shifters.
Unless they were, I dunno, trapped in the Andes with no food, but at that point, all bets were off and I couldn’t blame anyone for what they did to survive.
The woman who’d performed my interviews and hired me was standing at the security desk, and when I walked in the door, she straightened and smiled brightly at me. “Landon! It’s so good to see you in person. Ready to see the office?”
I... was the head of HR actually going to do my onboarding? That was a little overwhelming. I’d already signed my contract, and it was a great one, but I hadn’t expected much more this morning than being told where my office was, and to get to work.
But I smiled gamely at her and nodded. “I am, Miss?—”
“Oh please, it’s Maia. You can get people to call you Mr. Smith if you want, but around here, I’m afraid they’re likelier to make jokes about Agent Smith, especially with you being our new head of IT.” She held something out to me: an ID card.“We’ve got lanyards up in HR, but I figured I’d let you pick your own. We’ve got the sunflower ones if you need it for any reason, some fun stuff, regular Crescent ones, or even plain black, if you’re not into decorations. Or, you know, fun.” She glanced back at a handsome dark-skinned man talking to the security person at the desk, who was indeed wearing his ID on a black lanyard, then back at me, making an exaggerated serious face and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Don’t make me file a complaint with HR,” he called to her without even glancing up.
Her tinkling laugh filled the entryway. “So that Debbie Downer is Seth, head of security. I’m sure you’ll get to know him, since you’ll be the only person in the building who knows more about any form of security than him, what with being in charge of... firewalls? Is that what it’s called?”
“Part of it,” I agreed. “And I’d be happy to explain it to anyone who asks.”
Having worked in IT for many years, I already knew what the answer to that would be. No one wanted to know how the sausage was made, they just wanted the IT monkey to dance.
Seth’s head popped up, though, and he turned to look at me. “Seriously? Our last IT guy just said I needed to trust the magic. Which might have made sense if he’d been a fae, but he was a werecoyote.”
I rolled my eyes at the notion of it being magic. The fact that it wasn’t magic was exactly why I’d been drawn to it. Computers, math, science... they followed perfect quantifiable rules that never failed, except in predetermined exceptions. They were predictable. Exactly the opposite of magic. “It’s definitely not magic,” I denied. “It makes perfect sense, and I’d be happy to explain it. I taught some basic security classes when I was getting my Masters, so I’ve already got a whole lesson plan if people want to know more.”
His eyes lit up. “Really? That’s... let me talk to Jax. Maybe we can run some classes on company time.”
“That would be outside your contract, of course, and we’d pay you for it,” Maia added. “But I guess it would be nice ifsomebody’slaptop would work in meetings, instead of being infested with malware.”
They shared a knowing look, then sighed at the same time. I would have asked, but I was sure I’d find out who the problem child was soon enough. They inevitably brought their computers to me in the end, demanding to know why I’d given them faulty equipment, instead of thinking for a second that maybe skeevy porn sites were the problem.
At least Crescent was running a magical online store and not a software company. People who worked for a store had a reasonable excuse not to understand computers.
Maia showed me around the whole building, level by level, introducing me to the heads of each department, which was... okay, it made sense. I was going to be head of IT for this very large company. I needed to know the people in charge.
Still, it wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all. I’d basically been expecting what I’d gotten in Boston: a closet filled with spare parts and a whole lot of work-order demands.
Dance IT monkey, dance.
Instead, I got the red carpet. A tour through accounting and HR—where I nabbed an adorable lanyard covered in books—and sales and customer service, then the executive floor, where she took me right to the office of the CEO, Ajax Fyse.
He was exactly what I’d pictured, which wasn’t a surprise. He’d been on magazine covers and such, wearing suits worth more than my salary, looking like a model. And very much like the alpha werewolf he was. If he’d interviewed me instead of Maia, I’d have probably seen the sense in their concern about me being afraid of werewolves.
He smiled at me, though, and it wasn’t a sharp-toothed predator smile, but a friendly one. “You must be Landon. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival. Our last head of IT was in a bad spot and had to go home to Mexico, but it sort of left us in the lurch. Maia said you’ve come all the way from Boston?”
“Yessir, Boston. But I was ready for a change.” My brain took up a chant in the background:don’t talk about your personal drama, don’t talk about your personal drama. “No snow will be nice,” I finally said instead.
He laughed at that, nodding. “I hear you. Most of the pack came out of Idaho, and it’s a world of difference.”
I knew that, technically. I’d read it in the articles about Fyse and Crescent. But it was odd to see them all in person and think that these confident, cosmopolitan wolves had come from rural Idaho, and a pack that had refused even the most basic technology, and then they’d freaking invented the magical version of an online superstore that should not be named. They’d arranged for magical textbooks in online versions and print-on-demand, making the study of magic accessible in a way it had never been before, and gotten insanely rich doing it.
