Only the leather chair, which had managed to retain the scent of his cologne, indicated he spent any time here at all. Mae sank down in it and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be momentarily lost in the thought of him. She soon snapped herself back to attention and readied herself for the task at hand. She wished she’d had the foresight to stop at her apartment and change clothes, if not into her uniform, then something more formal than the linen pants and sleeveless blouse combo that tended to make up most of her summer wardrobe. Hopefully her personality and presence would carry through. She had very little experience with interviews. She’d never had any other job outside of the military and expected to base most of her decisions today on gut instinct . . .
. . . which, as it turned out, didn’t have much good to say.
Sure, there was nothing wrong with the two men and one woman who came in for their respective interviews. They were all ex-military and treated her respectfully when they learned her rank, even if one of the men looked a little dubious at first. They all possessed suitable track records, but as she spoke to them about their duties and the kind of schedule they’d be on, she kept thinking about Dag’s offhand comment about hiring security to watch one’s property. She could tell that was all these candidates really thought of themselves as, and although they seemed experienced and steady, she kept wondering what they would do if an army of supernatural beetles came after them. Would they be able to handle it?
Would anyone?
After she’d escorted the last candidate out, Mae returned to the chair and put her feet up on the desk with a sigh. A scan of her messages showed a few more applicants with similar military backgrounds, and she wrestled with the decision to invite any others in, wondering if she’d find any truly different results. She’d nearly talked herself into putting it off for another day—surely she and Justin had at least that much time before their next mission—when one person’s resume caught her eye. He was the only one who’d ever served actively in the provinces. That was still no comparison for the kind of things Justin and Mae faced, but it meant he’d had experience with the unpredictability of a setting outside the normal Gemman experience. Surely that was worth something.
She responded back, asking him when he’d be able to meet at Internal Security, and was surprised to receive a response almost instantly, saying he was in the area now and could meet her whenever she wished. With nothing else to do, Mae accepted and invited him by.
His name was Rufus Callaway, and he showed up an hour later, bearing a bag of donuts. Mae accepted them in astonishment.
“Are you trying to bribe your way into this job?” she asked. She actually had to fight the urge to tear into them then and there. They were from one of her favorite bakeries, and she was almost certain she could smell the kind she liked best, the store’s signature hazelnut and chocolate blend.
“No, ma’am,” he said gruffly, taking the seat she pointed to. He was short but solidly built, still obviously strong and muscled despite his graying hair. “But I served with praetorians during my tour in Belgium. I learned two things. One, they like to eat. Two, they don’t like to sit still. Puts ’em in a bad mood, especially if they’re hungry. You said in your message you were conducting interviews all day, so I figured some deep fried sugar might improve things. Don’t want to be at a disadvantage just because I’ve caught you after a long day when you haven’t had time to eat.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” said Mae, but she dared a peek and saw that he had indeed gotten the hazelnut-chocolate kind. “You got my favorite.”
“They’re everyone’s favorites, ma’am.” She smiled. “Tell me about Belgium.”
He talked about his time in the military, and Mae found herself caught up in it. The volatile European provinces were an area even she hadn’t been to. SCI usually just sent her and Justin around the Americas. Rufus described his experiences in a brisk, no-nonsense way and then listened with intent, narrowed eyes as she described the job’s specifics.
“I don’t know much about religion,” he told her. “Don’t really want to. But I know most of the people who practice it are nuts. I think you’re being too lax here.”
Mae felt her eyebrows rise. “Praetorians and a regular night guard are lax?”
He shrugged. “You say you leave once the kids are at school.”
“The schools have security. And we don’t have the manpower to keep someone there all the time.”
“You don’t need to. Just make things unpredictable. I’ll show up unexpectedly sometimes, patrol the school grounds. Just so no zealots get complacent. These people don’t think in ordinary ways. Neither can we.”
He was right about that, and even if he didn’t realize just how right he was, Mae appreciated that he was thinking creatively. “You’ll already be living at the house for nightshifts—and filling in the gaps for when I don’t have praetorian coverage,” she warned. “That’s a lot of hours.”
“What else do I have to do?” he asked dismissively. “Retired, no family. I can’t serve my country as a soldier anymore, but I can serve this way. I’m licensed to carry arms, a good shot, and don’t mind catching sleep on the run. If I’m fighting to keep religious nutjobs at bay, then I don’t mind putting in the hours.” He hesitated. “If you can pay me for them.”
“Well, I’m not actually the—”
The door opened, and Justin walked in. If he was surprised at all by what he found, he didn’t show it. “Oh. Should I have scheduled an appointment?”
“He’s the one who’d be paying you,” said Mae. Rufus jumped up, and she made introductions. To her surprise, he began peppering Justin with questions about his family and his family’s habits. The more she heard, the more she felt Rufus was the right choice. Something about him and the way he thought felt reassuring to her. He was about as close as they’d get to someone qualified to take on the supernatural.
“How big’s your budget?” she asked.
Justin sat on the edge of the desk, glancing at Rufus, then back at Mae.
“Is he our guy?”
“He’s our guy.”
The three of them haggled out an hourly rate, one that made Justin wince when he realized just how many hours this could entail. But she knew he could afford it, and she also knew he trusted her. As Mae hashed out some final details with Rufus, Justin took hold of the bakery bag and looked inside.
“Stocked up on your favorite, huh?”
She glanced up in surprise. “How do you know they’re my favorite?”
“Anyone who’s spent any appreciable time with you knows they’re your favorite.”
Mae returned her attention to Rufus, who was watching the two of them quizzically. Justin’s whole life was about noticing small details, so she supposed it shouldn’t surprise her he’d pick up on something like this. It was just that, usually, he used his observations to gain some advantage over others.
“So,” said Justin, after Rufus left. “That’s all that stands between my family and the forces of the unknown?”
Mae immediately dug into the donuts. “Him, some freelancing praetorians, and whatever tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.” She hesitated. “Want one?”
“No thanks. Had a hard enough time getting my stomach to accept coffee this morning.”
“It’s two o’clock.” She stretched out and put her feet back on the desk, figuring he’d be more than forthcoming in telling her to move if he wanted the seat back. For now, he seemed comfortable perched on the desk’s corner. “Not really morning. But you look pretty recovered. Hope Lucian is. I’m sure he’s got a day of photo ops ahead.”