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I did not want Othello’s job, as I said. I knew how to manage the turned, or I used to until they decided to go psycho and kidnap my friend, but I also knew enough about the Born to know that managing them, compared to the turned, was the difference between raising a pig and raising a cat. The turned being pigs that are usually docile, and the Born being cats that are preening divas. Plus, the Born liked the idea of being managed by their leader, but it didn’t mean that they liked someone else making their decisions, or telling them to do things they weren’t on board with. And I now had the authority to do so. I could literally tell anyone in the Order to do anything and they would have to do it. A manicure, killing someone, making me biscuits, having a tweet war with Anna Kendrick. I was the master now.
The master of the Order was lying in her bed, rubbing her ever-growing belly and staring at the embossed ceiling when there was a knock at her door.
I had barely slept the night before, my mind too consumed with the knowledge that I could no longer be lazy and I’d have to actually work again. I’d have to learn how to do a job I had no experience in, and be an authority figure over people I either barely knew or disliked. Or they disliked me.
“Open the door, Lisbeth, or I’ll use the master key,” Olivier said from the hallway. I got up and put a robe on over my pajamas, passed Cameron on the couch still muttering Japanese swear words in his sleep, and opened the door to Olivier with a hand on her hip looking at me like I was late to my own party.
“I’m the boss now,” I reminded her in a sarcastic tone. “You can’t barge into my room.”
“Technically, you’ve always been my boss., and I get your job if you’re abducted too, so....” She shrugged with an excited grin so I flicked her arm with my finger. After I changed my clothes, I followed her downstairs to my new destiny.
Marie was there to greet us when we reached the business hallway that contained Othello’s old office, now my office. She was blocking the way, as if I was surprised, clutching a blue folder to her chest like I was going to take it from her.
“Madam Lisbeth,” Marie said respectfully. She tipped her head and did a short little curtsey bow. Then she gave my simple black dress a disapproving once-over.
“I’m Madam now?” I asked her, genuinely curious since I’d never called Othello ‘Master Othello.’
“Othello never preferred the prefix, but it is standard protocol for a leader.” Her fingers were gripping the blue folder so tightly I could see her starting to rip it on accident.
“I prefer to not have it either if that’s acceptable,” I said. She tipped her head at me again.
“I was hoping...” she said quietly, her eyes darting around so she wouldn’t have to look at me. “I was hoping that I could keep my position as the leader’s assistant. I know that we aren’t exactly close, but I’ve been the assistant for two hundred years, and well... I don’t really know anything else.”
“Ummm...” I said awkwardly. “I mean, I wasn’t aware that I had the right to reassign the position?” Her silent glance was enough to say that I did. I shrugged. “I don’t want anyone else. I’m not familiar with this job. One of us should know what they’re doing. Might as well be you.”
She smiled in relief and loosened her grip on the folder before it could be truly torn. “Arthur has requested a meeting with you as soon as you’re ready.”
I glanced around the small waiting area, but he wasn’t there. “Can’t he just come find me?”
Marie gave me a superior look, and I could tell she was making an effort to be nice since I’d saved her job. “Your schedule doesn’t work like that anymore.”
Yay me.
Olivier left me to get acquainted with my new office. A quick scan of it said I would need some serious redecorating if I was, in fact, going to keep this position, which I very much so hoped not. Marie led me up to my desk where she placed the blue folder and adjusted it until it was perfectly straight, minus the deep finger marks she’d made on one corner.
“Othello left this for his successor, in case someone ever became the leader without him here.”
I eyed the folder with more scrutiny than I’d had when I was staring at the finger marks. “He knew this would happen?”
“No,” she said with a mournful giggle. “He was very thorough. He wanted to make sure everything would be taken care of for any scenario.” She bobbed low to the carpet and twirled around before exiting my office.
I picked up the folder and opened it to find a handwritten note from Othello addressed to me.
