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She snorted in disdain. “That conference is your job. If you can’t handle it, don’t ask me to clean up after you.”
“This isn’t about the conference. I just need some information.” I decided to try flattery, much as it pained me to do so. “You’ve worked here a lot longer than I have, so I thought you’d have some perspective on company history.”
Putting one hand on her hip, she sneered and asked, “Don’t you have your boyfriend for that?”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to take a few deep breaths. She seemed determined to make this as difficult as possible for me. “I actually need a nonmagical perspective—an immune perspective.” That surprised her enough that when I stepped forward into her office, she didn’t block me. I shut the door and asked softly, “What do you think about Ivor Ramsay?”
I never thought I’d see Kim go speechless, but she did. Her mouth hung open, and she lost her usual haughty air. With a furtive glance at the closed door behind me, she whispered, “Please tell me I’m not the only one who can’t stand that man.”
“I think we need to talk,” I said.
“Want to go get coffee?” she asked, suddenly sounding so perky that I was afraid the body snatchers had invaded again.
“Sure! Let’s go!” I replied, matching her in perkiness and hoping that the invitation was about talking away from the office rather than a plan to kill me and dump my body in the Hudson River.
We went to a coffee shop around the corner from the office building. I didn’t even have to ask a question to get Kim started. “He’s driving me crazy!” she said as soon as we got our drinks and sat at a table in the corner. “He just shows up, with no appointment, and Trix lets him in without even checking with the boss. But the boss doesn’t complain, either, and it messes up the schedule for the whole day. I’m the one who then has to rearrange everything.”
“That must be annoying,” I said, grateful for once that I didn’t have my old job back. “Does he show up often?”
“Practically every day.”
“And how long has that been going on?”
“It started just before you got back—before the boss went to Texas.” She frowned suddenly. “Why do you want to know all this?”
“He’s getting the boss to agree to things I never would have expected.”
She glanced around the room, then leaned forward and dropped her voice into a whisper that barely carried across the table, even though we were both carefully avoiding using names. “Do you think it’s a spell that makes people do what he wants?”
“Maybe. Did you know him earlier, when he was in charge?”
“I didn’t work closely with him, but I was often asked to provide verification at his meetings.” Most magical immunes at the company worked as verifiers who made sure that magic wasn’t used to hide or change things in business interactions. She sat up straighter and gave me a haughty look that reassured me that this was still the same old Kim. “He asked for me by name.”
“What kind of president was he?”
“He was hands-on—he did a lot of walking around the company, checking in on every department, even Verification. But in a friendly way, not micromanaging. He really did seem to know everyone, all the way up from the mailroom.”
My suspicious mind thought that was a good way to conduct industrial espionage on his own company in preparation for a long-term scheme he was developing, but even I thought that sounded a little far-fetched. “What about after the boss was brought in?”
“He stayed on for a few months until the boss figured out the language and had a sense of what was going on with the company, and then he retired. I know they were both in many of the meetings I went to for a while, but the boss didn’t say much then.”
“Was the idea always to turn things over to the boss?”
She frowned and tilted her head, took a sip of coffee, then said, “I don’t think so. The boss was just supposed to deal with the rogue who’d come up. Taking over the company wasn’t discussed ahead of time, as far as I know. It did seem like a surprise when it happened. But it makes sense. The boss founded the company, so he should be running it.” She dropped her voice again as her eyes widened in alarm. “Do you think he’s after his old job and trying to get rid of the boss?”
I wondered how much I should tell her about my suspicions. True, we’d found this one area of agreement, but I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. If she thought there was any way to benefit from ratting me out, she’d take it without a second thought. I figured she’d be more helpful if I could convince her that helping me was to her advantage. “Maybe,” I hedged. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
Her eyes took on a steely gleam. “Well, he won’t get away with it, not while I’m around. That’s my job—I mean, it’s the boss’s job, and I won’t see him tricked into losing it.” A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. “We could sabotage him, make him look bad so that the boss won’t listen to him anymore. I know! I’ll tell the boss he’s hiding things magically.”
“Let’s hold off on that until we’re sure,” I said, worried that I might have unleashed a monster. “Just keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if you see or hear anything odd. We may be the only people in a position to do something who aren’t affected by him, but we’ll have to be careful because the rest of the company may be under the spell.”
She drained her coffee cup and picked up her purse. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him win.”
*
After another day of silence, I caved and sent Owen an e-mail, a chatty “how’s it going?” message, but I got no response. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have been at all alarmed, since he had a habit of falling into his work, neglecting his in-box, and losing all track of time, but because he’d actually snapped at me the last time we’d spoken, I was starting to worry. A weekend without a word from Owen made me want to call police stations and hospitals. I decided it would be saner to call him, but I got no answer at his home or office.
I got to my office on Monday morning to find Perdita sneezing her head off. With each sneeze, strange things appeared in her office—soap bubbles, flower petals, white feathers. “Sorry about that, Katie,” she said, dabbing her nose with a lace handkerchief and waving the bubbles, petals, and feathers away with her other hand. “I don’t know what got into me.”
