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“How will you ever know you can trust me?”
“We have our ways. Now, come.”
We went back into the hallway and to another room that looked like a TV talk show set without the studio audience or the cameras. Come to think of it, there probably were cameras. They were just hidden, rather than those big studio things.
Two big swivel armchairs sat side by side, turned slightly to face each other. A small table sat between them. “Have a seat,” Marta said. “The interviewer will be in soon.”
She hadn’t said which one was the hot seat, so I chose the chair closest to me. Once I was seated, I noticed that the wall opposite the chairs—where the audience would be if this had been a talk show set—was filled with a large screen. It looked like it could be a television, but I suspected it was yet another viewing screen. At least it wasn’t a mirror. It would have been disconcerting to have to watch myself be interviewed.
About a minute later, the door opened, and a woman entered. She wore the same kind of chic black outfit worn by everyone else I’d encountered so far at this place, but she looked a little more down-to-earth than Marta or the recruiter. The woman checked the clipboard she held, then smiled and held her hand out to me. “Hi, Katie.”
I stood to shake her hand. “Hi.”
“Please, be seated.” She perched on the edge of the other chair, resting the clipboard on her knees. “I imagine our hiring process seems a little odd to you.”
“Very.”
“You’ve done great so far. My name’s Francine, and I’ll be going over some basic questions with you.” She glanced up at the screen, as though waiting for a signal, then asked, “What business experience do you have?”
I launched into a description of my present—make that, most recent—job, my previous positions at MSI, and then my nonmagical experience, both in New York and back home.
She nodded. “And how are you at dealing with difficult personalities?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I grew up working in the family business, so that’s been my life, and I couldn’t even get away from them at the end of the day. And I’ve found that magical companies have a real tendency to attract people you might politely call ‘unique.’”
We went back and forth like that on questions that could have come with any job interview, aside from the occasional mention of magic. It was certainly a more exhaustive interview than I’d had at MSI, where they’d been more concerned with persuading me that magic was real, and that I wasn’t being pranked, than they’d been with checking my qualifications. The only qualification that had really mattered to them had been my magical immunity. Here, they’d tested that, but they really did seem to want to know what I knew and how I reacted. I suspected the questions were more about letting them observe me under fire than about getting information.
I felt utterly drained when the barrage finally stopped. Although she held a clipboard, Francine hadn’t written a single word, which I thought confirmed my suspicion that there were cameras in the room. She glanced down at her clipboard, started to rise, then sat again. “Just one more question: What does loyalty mean to you?”
I had a feeling this one was the real test. “I’ve only worked for three places in my life—aside from campus jobs when I was in school,” I said. “It takes a lot to get me to leave a company. I only left the family business to come to New York. I left my last two jobs when I didn’t feel like my loyalty was appreciated or reciprocated.”
“What about personal loyalty?”
“I currently share a room with my childhood best friend, and my other roommates were my best friends in college. I guess you could say that when I commit to someone or something, I stick with them, unless they give me a reason not to.”
“What about the other people in your life? You made friends at MSI, didn’t you? And you’re engaged to someone you met there.”
I rubbed the blank spot on my finger where my engagement ring should have been. “Was engaged, I’m afraid. It didn’t work out. I don’t know that wizards and magical immunes can really mix like that. Or maybe we were simply on different paths.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like he and all my other friends at MSI really let me down. I did so much for that company, for them, put myself on the line, saved them from so many disasters, and then when things settled down, it was like they didn’t need me anymore. It was a real disappointment. When I left, they didn’t even seem to care.”
“I can assure you that we don’t operate that way.” She rose again, and this time she made it all the way to her feet. “Now, if you’ll come with me.”
I bit my tongue before I could complain about being sent to yet another room. This one looked more like a very small living room, with several chairs clustered around a low table. I didn’t notice anything that looked like it might be a window to another room. If someone was watching, they hid it well. “In just a moment, the executive you’d be working with will be here to meet you,” Francine said before shutting the door and leaving me alone.
I smoothed the skirt of my gown over my knees. If I’d made it this far, I hoped that meant that I’d made it at least into the group that would be competing for the final job. So far, I didn’t seem to have learned anything useful other than that they were extremely paranoid.
The door opened, and a man in a business suit entered. He was young—maybe my age, but surely no older than thirty—and really quite good looking. He could have been a model in a Ralph Lauren catalog, with fresh-scrubbed, all-American blond-haired, blue-eyed looks, clear skin, and white teeth. He was definitely not what I imagined as a rising player in the magical mafia. He looked more like a member of the tennis team at an expensive boarding school.
He flashed those perfect white teeth at me. “Hi, Katie, I’m Roger,” he said, shaking my hand, then gesturing for me to sit. “I’m having refreshments brought in for us so we can chat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Um, thanks,” I said, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. I seemed to have reverted to my awkward teen years, unable to behave like a normal human being in the presence of a cute boy. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. He wasn’t my type, and Owen was far better looking to me. I chalked it up to the weirdness of the situation and the fact that I hadn’t expected to encounter someone like him.
I forced myself to get a grip and stop acting like I was twelve, then thought that maybe I shouldn’t stop it entirely. As far as they knew, I’d just ended an engagement, and here I was, faced with the poster boy for wealth and clean living. Acting a little flustered was to be expected.
The door opened, and a waiter entered with a small cart. He unloaded a coffeepot, cups, plates, and a tray of rolls and fruit before leaving. Roger poured coffee for both of us and gestured for me to help myself with the rolls. I was getting pretty hungry, so I took one.
After he’d sipped his coffee, h
e said, “I must say, I’ve been very impressed with what I’ve seen so far, Katie. I shouldn’t be surprised, since we already knew a lot about you before we recruited you, but you’ve got a level of practical experience we don’t often find in a candidate.”
