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“You must understand that a nonmagical person has certain limits within our line of work, so I’m afraid to say that you would never reach the executive level on your own. However, if you’re attached to the right person, you could rise with him—or her. Someone who proves particularly valuable may be requested by a more senior executive.”
It sounded suspiciously like a workplace edition of Survivor. Not only were you competing for a job to start with, but you’d always have people below you wanting to move up. I was starting to see why they didn’t want Kim. If Gregor had told them anything, then all the assistants to the more senior executives would have known they’d have targets on their backs. If this had been a real interview for a position I was truly interested in, I’d have been tempted to tell them to take me back home. Instead, I smiled and said, “That certainly gives you something to shoot for—and a reason to stay on your toes.”
“That it does,” she said with a smile.
I’d never paid that much attention to her when she’d approached me earlier, but now that she was sitting across from me in a car where I couldn’t look out the window to see anything else, I had no choice but to study her. She was tall, slim, and attractive in an unassuming way. Her very light blond hair didn’t have so much as a millimeter of dark roots showing, so either she was naturally blond or she could afford constant touch-ups. She wore a basic black suit that radiated expense—possibly beyond designer to custom-tailored using the best materials. Or else magically conjured. The bright red soles of her shoes that showed when she crossed her legs told me all I needed to know about them. I wondered if my potential paycheck would be in that range, or was she some kind of executive?
After apparently making a loop entirely around Manhattan and then driving crosstown a time or two, we seemed to go down an incline before coming to a stop. The recruiter sat still, making no move to get out or open the door, so I wondered if we were at our destination or stopping for some other reason. A moment later, the door opened, held by a uniformed chauffeur. “After you, Katie,” the recruiter said.
I slid over on the seat and attempted to get out without tripping or otherwise doing anything awkward. When I was steady on my feet, I looked around to get my bearings, only to realize I was in a parking garage. There was no signage that I could see, no clue as to what building we might be in.
Sliding doors opened into a lobby, where a security guard waved us to a bank of elevators. There wasn’t any signage in the lobby, either. I thought that was odd. It may have been the first office building I’d ever seen that didn’t have anything showing the name of the building or its tenants.
The elevator only seemed to go up a few floors—though there were no handy buttons or lights showing which floor we were on—before stopping. “And here we are!” the recruiter said as the door slid aside to reveal a lobby that looked remarkably like the reception area of a posh spa—or what they looked like in the ads in fancy magazines.
There were lots of potted plants, what looked like natural light even though I couldn’t see any windows, and comfortable chairs. Soft music played. I almost expected to be handed a plush robe and directed to a changing room. “Now, I’ll turn you over to our evaluator, Marta,” the recruiter said. She held out a hand for me to shake. “Good luck, and I’m sure you’ll fit in great here.”
“Thank you,” I said, returning the handshake and making sure I gave her a firm grip.
Marta turned out to be a slender brunette with slightly Slavic features. “Hello, Katie,” she said with a smile. “Please follow me.” She led me from the lobby down a windowless sunlit hallway to a small room and gestured me inside. I’d compared the place to a posh spa, but this room really did look like a treatment room, without the massage table. “You can change in here,” she said. “There are gowns in those bins, marked by size, and you can leave your coat and clothes in that wardrobe. You keep the key.”
“Wait, what?” I said, sputtering. “I thought I was here for a job interview, not a spa day.” I’d dressed very carefully in my best interview suit, and I hated the idea of leaving it behind to meet with a prospective employer while wearing some standard-issue gown.
Her pleasant smile withered somewhat. “We take security very seriously. No personal belongings—and that includes clothing—enter the secured areas. I assure you, your belongings are perfectly safe.”
“You’r
e making sure I’m not wearing a wire?”
She nodded. “Or carrying a charm, or anything else like that. Now, I’ll be back in a moment. Would you care for something to drink?”
“No thanks, I’m good,” I said. When she’d shut the door behind her, I paused for a moment. Did I really want to go through with this? But I didn’t have a choice, and I’d made it this far. Fortunately, I had nothing to hide. I slipped out of my coat and hung it in the wardrobe, then sorted through the bins of gowns. They turned out to be nicer than hospital gowns, more like simple wraparound dresses with some sense of style. That made me feel slightly better about leaving my good suit behind. I’d just put my things in the wardrobe and locked the door when Marta returned.
“Good, you’re ready,” she said, giving me a critical look. She handed me a bottle of Perrier. “You might want this later. Now, come with me.”
She brought me to another room that looked like an upscale police interview room—carpeted, with nice furniture and wallpaper, but still with a table, a chair on either side so people would have to sit facing each other, and a mirror that was probably a window. I swallowed an uncomfortable lump that had formed in my throat.
“Please, have a seat,” Marta said.
I stood my ground, my arms folded across my chest. “Not until you tell me what’s going on here. This is the weirdest interview I’ve ever experienced.”
“It’s nothing to be worried about, I assure you. In this phase, we’ll be testing your magical immunity and your ability to use it to spot magical deception. Since you’ve been working for MSI, this should be no problem. It’s merely a formality to get you to the next level, but we must go through the process.”
Reluctantly, I took a seat, and she ran me through a battery of tests that were similar to things I’d experienced when I’d first joined MSI—seeing past what were apparently illusions to spot hidden words, having magic thrown at me to see how I’d react. After each test, Marta glanced at that mirror, and I wondered who was on the other side of it.
“Very good,” Marta said when the battery of tests was apparently over. “You passed with flying colors, as we expected. We’d heard rumors that you’d lost your immunity at one time and that you’d somehow gained magic, so we wanted to make sure you were truly back to normal.”
“Yep, one hundred percent magic-free,” I said. “And to be honest, I like it this way. Using magic wasn’t really my thing. So, what’s next?”
“You’ll be meeting with some of the executives seeking assistants, for a personal interview.”
I glanced down at the company-issued dress I wore. It wasn’t as tacky as a hospital gown or as casual as a spa robe, but it still wasn’t quite my idea of job interview attire. It looked more like something you’d wear to a cult indoctrination.
Noticing my dismay, Marta said, “Don’t worry, everyone else who interviews here is dressed the same way. We’re used to it by now.”
“If you don’t trust me enough to let me wear my own clothes, why should I trust you?”
“We have a lot more to lose. Let’s just say we’ve been burned before.”
