The sound of rain beating down against the window next to me caught my attention, and I tore my eyes off my phone to have another look outside.
The train was just pulling out from another station as it carried me further away from London. There was one more stop to go yet before I had to disembark, then I'd be switching to the local service for the last leg of my trip. I just hoped the weather improved before I reached my final destination.
After another few seconds of watching the rain-soaked countryside I looked back down at my phone again, at the email I'd received Friday evening. The missive arrived just after I got back home from my impromptu trip to Cardiff. It was a formal job offer, but it hadn't come from LIES. The email was from Jenny Carter, and the offer was regarding the possibility of employment with the Whitby Police Authority.
Apparently I'd impressed the inspector enough that she was hoping I'd accept a permanent placement at the little detachment in Castleton. It was a very fair offer too, there was even a signing bonus to help with moving expenses. The only point of concern I had was regarding the compensation. If I took Jenny's offer it would mean accepting a noticeable pay-cut from what I was earning at the Met.
Not that their offer was unrealistic or insulting, it was still a fair figure. The reality was they simply didn't have the same sort of budget as was available in London. I also knew the work in Castleton tended to be fairly quiet, supernatural monsters aside. Carter all but told me that herself. So I'd be earning less, but I probably wouldn't have to work as hard. It might even be safer there, probably less stressful too. And more to the point, even reduced pay would be better than the nothing I was currently getting, since I officially resigned from the Met two days ago.
So I re-read Inspector Carter's email yet again, as I contemplated the offer and what my life might be like if I moved to the North York Moors.
I liked the inspector, and the other constables I'd met were all pleasant and friendly. As were most of the other folks I'd encountered during my short stay. Even the grumpy old B&B proprietor Mrs. Whitmore wasn't so bad once I got used to her quirks. The people I met in Whitby were nice too, although I had a feeling Sally Stewart would keep me on my toes whenever I had to visit the ME's office.
On the whole though, it was actually fairly easy to imagine my life falling into something of a routine if I took the job in North Yorkshire.
Thanks to conversations with Inspector Carter I already knew what sort of work she and her staff spent most of their time dealing with. Theft and burglary, the odd late-night drunken altercation outside one of the local pubs, and lost hikers on the moors. More seriously there'd be the occasional domestic dispute or accidental death. And very rarely there might even be a murder to investigate.
On the whole it seemed like it'd be friendly, quiet, pleasant, maybe even peaceful most of the time. In fact I hated to admit it to myself, but I was tempted to say it almost sounded kind of boring.
Fortunately I didn't have to decide immediately, I had another nine days yet before the inspector needed an answer. I'd already written Jenny back and thanked her for the offer, and I let her know I was seriously considering it. Having that option in hand certainly made it a lot easier to tender my resignation with the Met. I just wasn't sure I was prepared for boring. Not yet. Not after my brush with the supernatural. Which is why I was pursuing the other opportunity first.
So as the train finally pulled into Cardiff Central Station I closed the email app then tucked my phone into my hoodie pocket. A few minutes later I boarded a local train, and a half hour after that I found myself standing under my umbrella outside that nondescript commercial building not far from the airport.
It was half past ten in the morning on Wednesday November twenty-seventh, just five days since my first visit. And this time they were expecting me. I pulled open the door and stepped inside, then gave my umbrella a shake behind me before closing both it and the door.
"Hello Detective Sharpe," the teen girl seated at the receptionist desk greeted me with a smile.
I smiled back, "Good morning Alys. And it's just 'Miss Sharpe' now. Or you can call me Trillium."
Like on Friday she was dressed in a pair of tight faded jeans, and what looked like a t-shirt underneath a warm jumper. A cute pair of sneakers rounded out the look. Her long black hair was pulled back into a loose messy ponytail, her make-up bright and friendly, and she wore a pair of colourful earrings and a matching necklace.
"No Emma this morning?" I asked, since Alys was alone behind the desk today.
"She's busy getting some stuff ready for a meeting later," the young ravenette replied. Then she gestured at the door behind her, "Anyways you can go straight in. My dad's waiting for you, first door on the left."
I couldn't help feeling surprised at that, considering when I was here on Friday they acted like I wasn't even welcome in the reception area. And when Martin Smith took me to the meeting room in the back all the other doors had been sealed up tight. I hadn't seen anyone else that day, apart from the two teens. And hadn't been told anything else about the organization, who they really worked for, or what sort of resources they had.
Smith listened quietly while I told him about the mysterious person I'd met in my former boss's office. I relayed what the Silent Man, as I'd started calling him, had to say about Martin and his colleagues. And what he'd said about the government's reaction to the recent uptick in supernatural incidents.
And in return Mr. Smith told me nothing at all, apart from assuring me he'd pass the information on to his superiors. He also promised to let them know I was interested in a job, and he obviously followed through on that. Yesterday I received an email from Owen Powell, president and CEO of Llewellyn Import & Export Services. He invited me to come back to Cardiff for an interview, so here I was.
The plain unmarked door to his office was ajar when I knocked on it, and the response was immediate.
"Come in," a masc-sounding voice announced with a Welsh accent. "Have a seat please."
The door opened to reveal a small office, decorated with the same off-white walls and grey carpet as the hallway and reception area. Except for the wall to the left, which was dominated by a huge floor-to-ceiling map of the whole British Isles. Directly across from and facing the doorway was a fairly cheap-looking flat-pack style desk, and seated behind that was the middle-aged man I assumed to be the boss.
He looked to be in his late forties, of average height, with short dark-brown hair that was thinning at the top and greying on the sides. He was clean-shaved, but with some obvious stubble on his face despite it being half past ten in the morning. He was dressed somewhat formally, in a button-down shirt and tie, and there was a suit jacket hanging from a coat tree behind him in the far corner. That was also home to a dark blue overcoat, and an umbrella was propped against the wall.
As I moved towards one of the two guest chairs in front of him Mr. Powell looked up from his laptop. His eyes flicked up and down over me, and I wondered if maybe I should have dressed up for this meeting after all. Everyone seemed very casually-dressed when I visited on Friday, so I'd done the same today. That meant sneakers, leggings, an oversized tunic top, and my new favourite hoodie. I hadn't even bothered with a purse this time, I just tucked what I needed into my hoodie pockets.
"Good morning," he finally greeted me, "You must be Detective Sharpe. I'm Owen Powell."
I smiled politely as I sat down, "Hello Mr. Powell, it's a pleasure to meet you. And please, it's Miss Sharpe now. I'm not a detective anymore. Or Trillium is fine too."
"Alright Trillium," he replied. "In that case you can call me Owen. To be honest we're not very formal here, so first names are fine."
With the introductions and pleasantries out of the way Owen dove straight into the questions, and he kicked it off by asking me to confirm that I'd transformed myself with that spell. He was careful not to directly ask if I was trans, nor did he ask any other medical or personal questions that might violate employment or privacy laws.
I assumed he already knew the answers since I knew his people accessed my personal files at the Met, but I went ahead and answered his question anyways. And I volunteered the fact that I was trans, that I'd magically transitioned as part of the sixth wave.
From what I could see Mr. Powell didn't have any problem with me being trans, he just accepted it and moved on to questions about my background and work history. He asked about my time with the Met, what sorts of cases I'd worked on, and if I'd been part of anything notable or exceptional.
I continued to answer as best I could, and for the most part Owen seemed satisfied by what I had to say. The only exception was when I mentioned the largest case I'd been involved in, which coincidentally happened exactly a year ago to the day. There'd been an explosion at a large private gentlemen's club in Westminster, the building was consumed by fire and ultimately burned to the ground. Over sixty lives were lost, and as far as I knew the case remained unsolved. Special Branch stepped in and took charge within the first week, so I was only involved for the first few days.
When I relayed all that I noted a funny look on Owen's face, but rather than follow up on it he quickly changed the subject. Instead we spent a few minutes discussing my experiences in North Yorkshire.
Finally he asked how I felt about getting involved in other potentially dangerous supernatural situations, if I'd be willing to face more creatures or entities similar to the one I'd encountered in Yorkshire. I almost smiled as I told him that's why I was there in his office interviewing for the job. Because I wanted to learn more about those sorts of things, I wanted to be a part of the team keeping people safe from other unnatural entities.
Owen seemed to accept that, then he asked if I had any questions for him. Which of course I had plenty.
"As this is a job interview we should probably talk about compensation," I began, "I'll also need to know about benefits, and all the other typical employment details. I assume I'll be expected to relocate to Cardiff, will there be some sort of moving allowance or anything along those lines? Or will those sorts of terms be outlined in a formal employment offer?"
I continued, "Beyond that I've got some questions about the general nature of the job. Like who exactly would I be working for? Martin and Phoebe indicated that there's another unnamed party who's actually in charge of the organization, and my own research indicated this firm is owned by another corporation. Is this a government operation? Are you with the Security Service, or part of the military perhaps?"
Owen grimaced slightly, "I'll answer the compensation question first, since it's the easiest. Put it simply, I've been authorized to offer you exactly the same package you were getting from the Metropolitan Police Services. Same base salary, same bonuses, same benefits."
That caught me off-guard. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I'd been prepared to accept a slight pay cut. I'd also been prepared to haggle, but I found myself thinking maybe I wouldn't have to after all.
Meanwhile Owen continued, "I don't have the budget to offer you a moving bonus, so it'll be up to you to sort out your living arrangements."
"As for your other questions..." his voice trailed off for a moment, then he shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't answer those yet. I'm sure you'll learn the answers in due time, but until then you'll have to decide for yourself whether or not you trust us enough to take the job."
That left me frowning, "That's more than a little unconventional. Not to mention suspicious. So I won't know who I'm working for until after I'm fully involved? And whoever's actually running this operation, they're happy to let you hire me without meeting me themself?"
"Normally our benefactor would insist on meeting any potential new hires herself, but she's a very busy person," Mr. Powell responded. He sounded almost embarrassed as he continued, "And in this case she found out that Alys likes you. Apparently she thinks my daughter's a good enough judge of character."
My eyebrows crept up, and I found myself temporarily at a loss for words. It was certainly an unconventional hiring method, but then again I knew these people had magic at their disposal. For all I knew Alys had some kind of supernatural talent for judging applicants' suitability.
So I let it go, and instead asked the last big question on my mind. "If I take the job, will I be asked or expected to break any laws? Is the work your organization does even legal? Or are you operating outside the law?"
Owen hesitated again before responding, "Our primary mandate is public safety. We're here to protect people from dangerous entities like the one you encountered in North Yorkshire. We may sometimes have to break minor laws in order to save lives, but we must never intentionally or deliberately harm or endanger any member of the public. Our benefactor's been very clear on that."
I frowned at that, "How do you define harm? Does magical assault count? Because your agents did something to myself, Inspector Carter, and a security guard in Whitby. There was no lasting damage that I'm aware of, but our memories were certainly tampered with and a couple hours were erased from our minds."
"For that matter they also stole and destroyed evidence, and compromised official computer records," I added. "And near as I can tell none of that was about saving lives, it was all to cover their own tracks and discredit an ongoing investigation."
Owen winced, "I'm sorry about that. Our benefactor does not condone our field agents' misuse of power in that instance. We're not supposed to use any potentially dangerous magic unless it's a matter of life and death."
"If it's any consolation," he added, "As the guilty party Miss Campbell has been disciplined for her actions in Whitby."
That left me with some mixed feelings. I was glad to hear that that they had policies against that sort of thing, but the fact that it happened anyways seemed like a problem. I was also a little curious about what sort of disciplinary action had been taken. Knowing the organization had access to magic, something told me it might not be as simple as a fine or some unpaid leave.
While I was pondering that Owen continued with a grimace, "As for secrecy that's no longer part of our active mandates. It used to be, in fact it was one of our most important directives. And after having that drilled into us for years, some of those habits have become very deeply ingrained."
"Personally I think it's best we keep our work out of the public awareness for now," he admitted. "People are only just coming to terms with the existence of magic. While it's not my place to say, I honestly don't believe the general population is ready yet to learn there might be monsters or other supernatural entities stalking the countryside."
At that point Owen glanced at his laptop, like he'd just received a notification. Then straightened up in his seat and asked, "So what do you think Trillium? Are you interested? And if so, are you prepared to join us today?"
The thought of diving in and starting work immediately gave me pause. Not that I wasn't interested or able, I just hadn't expected to be put on the spot quite so soon.
I asked, "Is this a time-limited offer? You want me to decide right now, take it or leave it?"
"Not as such," he shook his head. Then he nodded towards his computer and explained, "I just got word that the rest of the team are here now, and we're going to be discussing a potential new case. From there we'll likely be busy until that's been resolved. If you're on board then you can sit in on the briefing, otherwise it might be another two or three weeks before we'll be able to schedule a follow-up interview."
That made sense, although it meant I still had to make an on-the-spot decision. So I quickly weighed the pros and cons, between all the things I'd learned about LIES versus everything I still didn't know about them. And I tried to compare that against what I knew in terms of potentially taking Jenny's offer and working with her up in Castleton.
In the end there really wasn't much of a contest. It was my curiosity that brought me to Wales in the first place, along with the prospect of adventure and learning more about the supernatural. And I sincerely doubted I'd find any answers or adventure if I was settled into a quiet routine up in North Yorkshire.
"Alright," I decided. "I'm in."
Owen smiled, "Welcome aboard."
"Let's go introduce you to the rest of the team," he added as he got to his feet.