There were many questions in Helena’s mind. But she could tell Camila was going to avoid a lot of them so she stuck with the easiest one. “Where did you even get that outfit?” She motioned to the sleek modern blazer and skirt combination.
“Part of the aid package the refugee center gave me,” Camila said. “Guess they figured people from the real world would want it for a job interview.” She was doing her best to mimic a walk as they headed down the streets. It still looked strange and jerky but if you couldn’t see her legs it might pass as human.
“And where is this job interview?” Helena asked.
“Well it’s not really an interview, but I’m gonna get a job at the Times,” Camila said. “At least I hope,” the jiang-shi added quietly.
Acedia turned her dull eyes to Camila. “And how are you going to get a job there without even an interview?”
“Threats and coercion,” Camila said. “Like I already applied normally, but they probably trashed that as soon as they saw my name. Walked in again in person and they insulted me before shooing me out. Figured I’d have to cheat then.”
Helena looked out towards the fringe area of the merchant district they were heading towards. The ‘Times’ was one of the newspapers that were mostly popular… well nowhere. In the realm across the river they’d been slowly choked out by other information sources, while here in the Immigrant Realm half the people had a hard time reading, much less reading English. The paper was mostly a luxury item as far as she could tell. Though it at least had that going for it. “I approve of your tactics. But why do you even want to work there if they don’t want you?”
“I mean, it’s that or lifting heavy things, and lots of people can do that,” Camila replied. “And I don’t want to work for the assholes here. I want to get stuff published across the river. Or honestly just get published. But y’know, the only place I can apply is here.”
“So am I part of your threats, or your coercion?” Helena asked. She was fine with either honestly. But it was good to know what was expected of her in advance.
Camila grinned. “I was gonna have you be the carrot instead of the stick.”
Helena mentally chewed on that. “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Acedia muttered. “And what am I doing?”
“Same thing as Helena,” Camila replied. “Just be yourself.” Her grin faded. “Okay be yourself and don’t fly into a rage when those bastards treat me like worthless eye candy. Can’t actually kill anyone.”
Helena’s opinion of this job spiraled down like a ship in Charybdis’ whirlpool. “I make no promises.” Camila’s grin returned as they continued towards the squat building marked with the Times logo.
Camila walked straight through the doors, then through the lobby like she had every right to be there. The receptionist gave them a confused glance, but Camila was apparently pretty good at looking like she belonged. They made it all the way to a noisy open office, where dozens of people were hammering away at typewriters.
It was fairly obvious they didn’t belong here. Everyone was human. Not humanish, but completely human. And while there were two other women in the room they seemed to be mostly carrying drinks around to people. Which meant everyone in the room looked as Camila continued her march. The jiang-shi woman didn’t stop though. She kept walking towards the back.
The people in the room slowly started reacting to their presence, mostly by whispering to each other and backing away. Helena tried to make out what they were whispering. A few seconds of that and her fists were clenched in rage. She’d forgotten again that the rulers of the Immigrant Realm had an obsession with people’s skin color. Camila probably hadn’t. Not for a second.
But the woman steadfastly moved past the whispers and popped into the door. “Good Afternoon Mr Davidson,” she said in the most formal voice Helena had ever heard her use. “I think I have an answer for you.”
The three men inside the room had very different reactions to that. The one in the far corner immediately snapped. His mouth was open but apparently he couldn’t manage an insult. Probably better for his health. The one closest to them had slid away, watching the scene with a practiced eye. And the man behind the desk seemed almost bored. “Is that so zombie girl? So please do explain why I should spend money on you instead of an experienced reporter.” The way he said the word made it clear he meant ‘male’ and Helena had half formed a curse to make someone a chicken by the time he finished.
“Because I did my research and found Title VII of the Civil Rights Act is a law in this world too,” Camila replied. “Your branch is a drain on the big company across the river already. Getting slapped with a lawsuit would be bad for you.”
“And why shouldn’t I hire someone who knows their place instead of you?” He said. “There’s plenty of women who need a job.”
Camila grinned. “Well that wouldn’t stop my lawsuit, but more importantly it wouldn’t get you the writer you need. Because I’m college trained and can write pieces the people in the Big Apple like, while the randoms you grab off the street aren’t. In addition I have sources no one else can get. Like one of the best magicians in the Immigrant Realms,” Camila nodded towards Helena.
Mr Davidson leaned back. “Well you’ve at least figured out how to play hardball, Ms Barbosa.”
The man in the corner finally exploded. “Sir you can’t possibly be thinking of hiring this ni-,” Mr Davidson held up a hand and the man swallowed, “negro woman. She isn’t even alive!” The man turned a gaze towards Helena and Acedia. “And just because she can drag in some more freaks doesn’t mean she’s useful. Dressing up another slut in a witches hat doesn’t mean-“
That was enough. Helena finished the curse and wrapped it in a small bullet before flinging it into the man’s chest. The rest of his sentence disappeared into a squawk and a cloud of feathers. “I believe that should establish my standing as a magician.”
Everyone except Acedia and the new chicken sat in stunned silence. “I thought we weren’t supposed to beat people up just because they insulted her,” the demon said to Helena.
“And I followed that to the letter,” Helena replied. “However I’m not going to sit here and let some fool claim I’m not a witch.”
“Could you turn him back?” Camila said.
Helena sniffed. “It was only going to last an hour anyway.” She snapped his fingers and dismissed her curse. With a final squawk the man returned. He slumped, stunned by the rapid shifts.
Mr Davidson recovered first. “Well, that was interesting. So what are you offering me now? And what are you asking in return?”
“I want a weekly art column. Internet. And access to the leads,” Camila said. “You get my column, and I can get you in contact with the magical sources you normally miss out on because you’re pigheaded bigots. Oh and I don’t use my eternal unlife to sue you.”
“Monthly, paper column, and if the parent company doesn’t pick it up in a year you’re done,” he replied. “Also you have to pretend to respect your co-workers.”
Camila waved her fingers. “I’ll pretend to respect you.”
“Done.” He motioned the quiet man forward. “Donnie, you’re on the serial murder cases. Press them for all their worth while I handle the paperwork.”
“Cases?” Acedia asked. Helena looked over at Donnie. That was an odd way of putting it. “Who’s being killed other than demons?”
The quiet man finally spoke. “Someone’s been slaughtering people in the underground. Big killings. At least one hundred dead. The police just got word of it.” Well that would explain the sudden conclave. Massacres would draw attention. “Add in there being more murders then usual with pentagrams nearby and people are gettings antsy.”
Helena grimaced. “Well then, I’ll be happy to tell you what I know about the person killing demons,” Helena said. She wouldn’t tell them everything, but what she could tell them was a small price to pay for information about this new problem.