Today, it marked him as a vampire.
He wasn't especially tall—about three inches shorter than Carl, but his presence made him seem larger than he was. The accent wasn't Bella Lagosa Transylvania, but it was distinct. Possibly caused by enlarged canines.
"At your service,” the vampire told him. He bowed deeply to Danielle.
"Ms. Goodman and I will be interviewing each of you finalists together,” Carl told the remaining creatures. “There's coffee on the machine in the kitchen. Help yourself."
A couple of young dwarves got into a scuffle as they tried to head to the kitchen, their short bodies too broad to allow both of them through the door at once.
"Billy. Willie. Behave."
The vampire's voice was soft—hardly more than a whisper—but it cut through the sudden chatter and froze the two dwarves in place.
"Sorry, Dr. Harriman,” the vampire told him. “It's been a long day and coffee prices are through the roof here. I suppose you know that many dwarves have a serious coffee dependency."
Maybe Carl had known that but Danielle hadn't. There were so many different impairments that the warders had to specialize. She supposed dwarves had been covered in one of the overview classes but they weren't seen as a serious threat and she hadn't known anyone who had looked more deeply. And she'd already seen enough to know that the overview classes had left a lot out.
"If you'll follow me, Mike,” Carl said, “I think we can make this quick."
Mike moved with the easy grace of Fred Astaire from the ancient movies. When he smiled—which he did as Carl offered him his hand—his lengthened canines gleamed an ivory white.
"I'm going to be honest,” Carl told Mike. “I haven't heard much good about vampires. Ms. Goodman tells me that you're qualified and talented and I believe her. But I want you to tell me why I should hire you."
Mike's shrug was barely discernable. He was impossibly thin, but his clothes fit so well that it looked like a choice rather than the result of starvation.
"How long do you think your crew will last if they don't have someone like me to help?” Mike pulled up a chair and sat, his body almost gliding into the seat.
"I don't—"
"You're right. You don't know what it's like out in the zone. You've lived here for what, a couple of weeks? Secure behind your gates and fences. Almost a zone within the zone. But for the others, it won't be like that. They have to go home at night. They'll be sitting ducks for every gang out there."
Danielle had heard Mike's pitch earlier, but Carl seemed stunned. “Why should a gang bother with my workers?"
"Because they'll have money,” Danielle answered for Mike.
Carl held up a hand to forestall Danielle, but Mike went on ahead. “Warder Goodman is right, of course. In the zone, if you've got money, then you're a target. In our case, though, there is even more. Word is out about you, Dr. Harriman. Word that you've got a lab full of treasure—drugs, chemicals, food. Uh, blood. They'll pressure your poor workers, blackmail them to steal your materials, steal your research, even sabotage your work."
"And you can stop this."
Mike looked satisfied. “Oh, yes."
In the end, Carl hired the whole lot of them. Six outside workers, five lab assistants, and Mike.
"I'll shape them into the best mob in the Dallas zone,” Mike promised.
"We're not a mob. We're a laboratory team."
Mike nodded gravely but Danielle didn't need any special warder skills to know he was lying. Intentionally or not, Carl was assembling a mob and Danielle had helped.
She felt uncomfortable, torn between the very real dangers posed by the impaired and the importance of Carl's vision and of her mission. Carl had persuaded her that they needed a staff, and Mike the Vampire was dead-on that they needed to be able to defend what would be seen as an increasingly attractive asset. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
Chapter Four
Danielle sent the two dwarves into far south Dallas looking
He wasn't especially tall—about three inches shorter than Carl, but his presence made him seem larger than he was. The accent wasn't Bella Lagosa Transylvania, but it was distinct. Possibly caused by enlarged canines.
"At your service,” the vampire told him. He bowed deeply to Danielle.
"Ms. Goodman and I will be interviewing each of you finalists together,” Carl told the remaining creatures. “There's coffee on the machine in the kitchen. Help yourself."
A couple of young dwarves got into a scuffle as they tried to head to the kitchen, their short bodies too broad to allow both of them through the door at once.
"Billy. Willie. Behave."
The vampire's voice was soft—hardly more than a whisper—but it cut through the sudden chatter and froze the two dwarves in place.
"Sorry, Dr. Harriman,” the vampire told him. “It's been a long day and coffee prices are through the roof here. I suppose you know that many dwarves have a serious coffee dependency."
Maybe Carl had known that but Danielle hadn't. There were so many different impairments that the warders had to specialize. She supposed dwarves had been covered in one of the overview classes but they weren't seen as a serious threat and she hadn't known anyone who had looked more deeply. And she'd already seen enough to know that the overview classes had left a lot out.
"If you'll follow me, Mike,” Carl said, “I think we can make this quick."
Mike moved with the easy grace of Fred Astaire from the ancient movies. When he smiled—which he did as Carl offered him his hand—his lengthened canines gleamed an ivory white.
"I'm going to be honest,” Carl told Mike. “I haven't heard much good about vampires. Ms. Goodman tells me that you're qualified and talented and I believe her. But I want you to tell me why I should hire you."
Mike's shrug was barely discernable. He was impossibly thin, but his clothes fit so well that it looked like a choice rather than the result of starvation.
"How long do you think your crew will last if they don't have someone like me to help?” Mike pulled up a chair and sat, his body almost gliding into the seat.
"I don't—"
"You're right. You don't know what it's like out in the zone. You've lived here for what, a couple of weeks? Secure behind your gates and fences. Almost a zone within the zone. But for the others, it won't be like that. They have to go home at night. They'll be sitting ducks for every gang out there."
Danielle had heard Mike's pitch earlier, but Carl seemed stunned. “Why should a gang bother with my workers?"
"Because they'll have money,” Danielle answered for Mike.
Carl held up a hand to forestall Danielle, but Mike went on ahead. “Warder Goodman is right, of course. In the zone, if you've got money, then you're a target. In our case, though, there is even more. Word is out about you, Dr. Harriman. Word that you've got a lab full of treasure—drugs, chemicals, food. Uh, blood. They'll pressure your poor workers, blackmail them to steal your materials, steal your research, even sabotage your work."
"And you can stop this."
Mike looked satisfied. “Oh, yes."
In the end, Carl hired the whole lot of them. Six outside workers, five lab assistants, and Mike.
"I'll shape them into the best mob in the Dallas zone,” Mike promised.
"We're not a mob. We're a laboratory team."
Mike nodded gravely but Danielle didn't need any special warder skills to know he was lying. Intentionally or not, Carl was assembling a mob and Danielle had helped.
She felt uncomfortable, torn between the very real dangers posed by the impaired and the importance of Carl's vision and of her mission. Carl had persuaded her that they needed a staff, and Mike the Vampire was dead-on that they needed to be able to defend what would be seen as an increasingly attractive asset. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
Chapter Four
Danielle sent the two dwarves into far south Dallas looking
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