“I'll file your complaint but it won't matter. And don't forget, as I've already explained, it has to be an active month.”
Twenty-five days. I've dealt with worse for longer. One case in particular came to mind. The guy actually tried to bite me when we lost. Harold didn't seem inclined to bite and he didn't get into my personal space. I could deal with him.
On the other hand, Fate looked like he might be the biting sort.
“Do the last five days count toward the thirty? Time served and all?”
“Yes.”
“These first days were highly unpleasant. Do you think I could get extra credit for those? Maybe, I don't know, you could knock off a day or two? Like they do in jail for good behavior?”
He squinted his eyes and tilted his head. I was going to take that for a no.
“Follow me.” He stood and headed out of his office and back into the main room.
We'd barely taken a step out the door when I saw him; Fate, supervisor from hell. His eyes met mine and it was as if all the cells in my body had decided to wake up. Which was quite ironic, considering I was technically dead.
The room could have been packed wall to wall with people and it wouldn't have mattered. It couldn't be attraction, because I hated him. In my human life, if someone had treated me the way he had, I would have set them straight and then never spoken to them again. But I couldn't seem to stop the awareness I had for him and it made me dislike him even more.
I broke eye contact first as he walked over toward Harold and me.
Fate stared straight at me but didn't actually acknowledge me, not even the slightest tilt of the head. But he dismissed me pretty clearly when he turned and spoke only to Harold.
“Anything with her?”
“Doesn't appear to be, but it's early.”
“Any what? You can direct your questions about me directly to me.”
He shifted his attention fully back to me and I wished I'd kept my temper in check. His presence was more intense up close. I should've just shut up and let him go along his not-so-merry way.
The first time I'd interacted with him, I hadn't been in my right mind. Like so many things in retrospect, it was crystal clear just how out of whack I'd been. I never would've agreed to this if I had been thinking clearly.
Then, when I'd been writhing in pain, I couldn't see past the intensity of what I was feeling.
This was technically my second coherent contact with Fate and the full impact of his presence seemed to get worse with subsequent exposures. Twenty-five days was suddenly a lifetime.
“Have you noticed anything different, yet?”
“What?”
“You said to address you, so I am. Have you noticed anything different?”
He knew he was making me uncomfortable. The corner of his mouth quirked up. Worse than him doing it on purpose was that little twitch of the lips meant he didn't care if I knew he was doing it on purpose. Maybe he even wanted me to know? What was this guy's problem? Decent folk didn't openly mock you and admit to it. They would feign ignorance. Rude man!
“Nope, nothing out of the ordinary here.” And there was no way I was going to let him know how much he was indeed getting under my skin. I raise your smirk with a full on, double row of pearly whites smile. Take that, you ogre in man's clothing!
He didn't respond, just turned back to Harold. “Your office,” he said and then strode off in that direction, making me wonder who was really in charge here.
Harold claimed to be calling the shots, but it certainly didn't look like that right now. And if Fate was the secret power holder, man, things just weren't looking good. He seemed to dislike me even more than Harold
“Luck?” Harold said and waved over a raven-haired beauty with the reddest lips I'd ever seen outside a Vogue Magazine, and not an interior spread but a glossy bright cover.
She walked over toward us, hips sashaying in a way that would captivate any human male alive. I say alive since she didn't seem to have any affect on Harold. Every time I thought I peeled another layer of the onion back on this guy, he revealed another skin of strange.
“Would you show Karma around?”
Karma, the truth of the name settled into my skin like a lotion I was allergic to.
“I've got a few matters that need my immediate attention.” He nodded to us and made to leave.
“Wait, what about my killer? When are we going to go get him?”
“Your killer?”
“Yes. You said I could get my killer.”
“Sure. Try and get him.”
“How?”
“I don't know.” He shrugged and threw his hands up, in a “why are you asking me” kind of way.
“But you said—”
“That you could right the wrongs, not me. I don't do that sort of thing.”
“But I don't know how to do anything.”
He looked toward his office, where Fate waited. “That certainly isn't my shortcoming.”
I watched Harold walk away from me and directly toward the office where Fate had basically ordered his presence. Dead or not, shouldn't there be some sort of professional standards?
And another weird thing was Fate and Harold's relationship. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was wrong but there was tension there and I couldn't tell if they liked each other or not. Normally, when I look at two people, and see them interact, it's obvious. Not with those two.
Luck drew my attention back as she clucked her tongue. I found her looking me up and down in an appraising way, which I ignored, trying to make the best of the next month. After all, it would be nice if I didn't have to hate everyone I worked with. Even a dead girl needs a friend.
I plastered on another fake smile. “I'm Camilla. It's very nice to meet you.”
Her lips formed a moue as she didn't reply but kept appraising me. “Yes, you are definitely a transfer, all right.”
I wasn't sure what she was seeing that I didn't. What was I doing that screamed different? Broadcasted me as the transfer they kept labeling me?
“I just don't know why he did it, not that he listens to anyone,” she continued.
“What exactly is a transfer and what's so bad about it?”
“Murphy!” she called out to a man wearing a long tan coat and a hat that would have looked normal on Humphrey Bogart.
We both took each other in as he walked over. He looked like he was in his early forties, with patches of gray that were winning the war for real estate at his temples. Did that mean these bodies aged? No, I didn't think so. Harold said this is what I'd look like throughout time. Murphy just got a bum deal I guess.
“Karma?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.
“Actually, it's Camilla.”
“We all go by our call signs, here,” he explained.
Luck hopped up on the desk, crossing her legs and showing off a really nice set of five inch red heels.
She punched Murphy in the arm to get his attention. “Tell Karma what a transfer is. She's got questions.”
“A transfer is someone that was mortal first. After they were created into existence, they took a human shape for a while before signing on here.”
“Neither of you were?”
“Nobody in this office was. We haven't had a transfer in a while. Doesn't tend to work out.”
“Why?” This didn't bode well.
“When your being is first created, you understand the universe and the surroundings. When you’re placed into a mortal body, the human shell insulates you a bit and your connection is dulled. It's like listening to someone talk under water. Even when you are broken from the shell, you're still at a disadvantage.” He sat down on the desk next to Luck. I could tell they were tight knit, in a buddy kind of way.
“What happened to the other transfers?” I asked, watching the two of them for reactions.
“Almost all of them quit at the end of the trial period.”
“You said almost all. What about the ones that didn't? Why aren't they here?”
Murphy started fiddling with a pencil he'd picked up off the desk and Luck nudged him. “You tell her.”
“Why do I always get stuck doing this?” Murphy asked in an annoyed voice.