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Could I work at a wine shop? I had expert knowledge of how wine was made, but I hadn’t ever drunk it. I did know all about the bullshit vintners used to describe their wines. Words like “robust” and “full-bodied”. I’d helped make that stuff up for the cult’s wine.
There wasn’t a vacancy sign in the window, but I found myself reaching for the handle and stepping inside. It was cool and dim in here, the walls covered floor-to-ceiling with stocked wine racks. It even smelled like wine, and I wrinkled my nose as I looked around.
“Can I… help you?”
The snooty, unimpressed voice made my shoulders stiffen as an older demiurgus stepped out from the back office, already giving me the stink eye over his wire-framed glasses. In that moment, I knew without a doubt that I didn’t want to work here, even if they were looking for someone.
Giving him a tight smile back, I shook my head and said, “No. Thanks,” then turned for the door.
Back on the street, I sighed and kept walking, feeling a little dejected. Maybe I should go back and just ask. A job was a job. Maybe he’d actually be really nice, or sympathetic, or even impressed if I told him I’d spent years making wine.
I stopped and glanced back at the wine merchant uncertainly. I needed to get a damn job. I couldn’t keep letting Greid buy us dinner every night and pay my share of the bills. I should go back and ask. I had to go back and ask. It was the one thing I actually had a modicum of experience in.
Just as I was about to turn back, a place across the street caught my eye. The fancy sign above the door declared it Abyss, and it looked dark through the windows, but I was pretty sure I could see bottles lining the back wall.
Maybe it was a competing wine merchant. Maybe this owner wouldn’t be so snooty. After checking for cars, I hurriedly crossed the road and peered into the window. My shoulders slumped with disappointment. It wasn’t a wine shop, it was a bar. A swanky-looking bar, with lots of low leather seating and stained-glass lanterns waiting to be lit on dark wood tables. A big gleaming bar stood in the centre, and there was a single demiurgus standing beside it, polishing champagne glasses.
I stepped back so I wouldn’t look like a creep peering in through the windows at her, but as I began to walk away, my eyes snagged on a discreet sign by the door.
‘Vacancy – bar staff,’ it said. ‘Enquire inside.’
My pulse leapt. Holy crap. There was a real job being offered in this place. They were actually looking to hire someone. My heart started hammering in my throat as I peered inside again. It looked fancy—old-fashioned in an expensive, intentional way.
Palms sweating, I reached for the door. I had to. I had to go in and try.
You’re brave, Beryl. I suddenly heard Greid’s voice in my head, steeling my resolve.
Be brave. Be brave be brave be brave.
My face flamed red when the door wouldn’t open, body prickling with heat. The demiurgus looked up at the sound of the handle rattling, setting the cloth and champagne flute down on the bar to walk over and unlock the door.
She gave me a polite smile as she pulled it open. “Hi there. I’m afraid we’re not open for brunch yet.”
“Oh, I’m not—” My cheeks grew even hotter. “I just wanted to ask about the job?”
Her yellow eyes sparked with interest. “Oh, great.” She held out her hand, her claws painted a deep, subtle blue. “I’m Mani, the manager.”
“Lovely to meet you. I’m Beryl.” I shook her hand and tried to give her a confident smile.
“I have about…” She checked her watch. “Twenty minutes before we open, if you want to have a chat now?”
“Sure, sounds good. Thank you.”
I followed her over to the bar, and we both perched on the plush stools with metal backs. Mani smiled at me again, her gaze slightly assessing as she looked me over, before asking, “Do you have your resumé with you?”
I managed to suppress my wince. Greid had offered to help me write a resumé, but it had felt so pointless as I’d read the endless, impossible job listings online.
Knowing I was already about to fuck this up, I said, “I don’t, I’m afraid. I actually—I recently moved here and it’s… been a big change.”
That didn’t even make any sense, but Mani just looked at me in silence for a few seconds before sitting back.
“Okay,” she said evenly. “Well, why don’t I tell you a little about the job?”
I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat. I already felt pathetic. Why had I ever thought I could do this?
“It’s a full-time position, which means day and night shifts. We open at eleven for brunch, when we serve some small dishes to soak up the booze.” Mani waved a hand. “And we’re open until four a.m., but it’s only the demiurgus staff who take the last shift.”
Hesitantly, I asked, “So you have other humans working here?”
