Tara didn’t seem concerned with the question. “It’s March.”
“I know.”
“It’s March in Michigan.” Tara’s smile never wavered. “We don’t get a lot of visitors in the winter because the bridge isn’t exactly fun to traverse during icy conditions. We won’t see many visitors for at least another month — more like six weeks — and then we’ll be slammed the entire summer season … and early fall.”
That made sense. I remembered snow from my childhood, of course, and I saw it on the national weather reports. After the incident, though, I had moved to New Orleans to live with my paternal grandfather, even though my maternal aunt was a local and wanted me to stay with her. My grandfather put his foot down and insisted I go with him ... and I wasn’t sorry. I grew to love New Orleans and embraced the culture there — especially the Bruja women with their magical ideals and strong personalities — but my mind always wandered to this place and what I’d left behind. I figured there had to be a reason, and I had every intention of finding out what that reason entailed.
“I forgot about the cold.” I offered her a rueful smile as I smoothed my onyx hair. It was long and straight — exactly as I liked it — and when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind the counter I couldn’t help but marvel at the way the lighting made it gleam. “Things here must be pretty seasonal, huh?”
“Definitely.” Tara graced me with an appraising look. “I love that belt. Is that ... snakeskin?”
I glanced down to the item in question and nodded. “Copperhead. I bought it from a store in the French Quarter. They don’t kill the snakes just for the belts — if you’re worried about that — but sometimes the snakes die when being milked for venom. That’s when they make the belts. They’re supposed to be powerful.”
Tara blinked several times in rapid succession, her green eyes clouding with confusion. “Powerful? How are they powerful?”
Hmm. I hadn’t really considered the possibility that the person waiting to greet me wouldn’t be magical. I thought for sure that she would be in the know and able to explain a few things regarding my new reality. It looked as if that wasn’t the case.
“It’s simply part of New Orleans mysticism,” I offered lamely. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.” Tara’s expression never changed. “I’m supposed to give you the big tour of the aquarium and a brief look at what’s on the other side of the door. Your first day isn’t until tomorrow, though, so most of the staff is off doing other things.”
I fell into step with her as she moved through the high archway that led to the animals. I wanted to press Tara further about the “other side,” but my grandfather always preached patience being a virtue. I tried to embrace that now.
“I’m sure you’ll catch on in no time,” Tara said brightly.
Hmm. I really hated being trapped in an informational void, especially since I was technically going to be in charge of this operation ... once I got caught up on everything, of course. “How many people work here?”
“Six during the off season and fifteen when summer hits.”
I had no idea if that was a big or small number. “And who does what?”
Tara’s lips curved as she led me through the animal displays. “The majority of the staff works in the aquarium. We have to keep the tanks clean, feed the animals, and handle the tourists. But even during peak tourism times, we’re rarely inundated to the point we can’t handle the influx of visitors.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s ... simply how things are.” Tara cast me a sidelong look that was unreadable. “Your staff is much smaller. You have two other people working directly under you right now — you won’t meet them until tomorrow because they had to lend their services to a reaper family in Grosse Pointe — but that number grows by two in the summer. Still, your staff is smaller than the aquarium staff.”
Well, that answered that question. “Reaper family?”
“You will be working in conjunction with various reaper families,” Tara explained. “We have at least eight in southeastern Michigan. The souls they collect are transported here, which is when they become your responsibility.”
I understood the demands of my job, which made Tara’s tone grating. “I know what I’m supposed to do.”
“I know you know.” Tara’s smile never wavered as she gestured toward a set of locked doors at the back of the facility. A card reader was affixed to the wall on the right side, and she pulled a plastic rectangle from her pocket and opened the doors with a smooth swipe. “Your security pass will be here tomorrow morning. We had a bit of an ... incident ... today. That’s why the people who were supposed to meet you are not where you expected them to be. I’m sorry about that.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “Where are they?”
“Apparently one of the Grimlocks — they’re our most prominent reaper family — stumbled across a nest of wraiths. It was a big thing because the family decided to take out the wraiths, which put them behind on collecting their souls. They needed help.”
I wasn’t as familiar with the reaper end of things as Tara apparently believed, although that was something I was loath to admit. To get the job, I had to work a series of clerical positions in various home offices. That meant moving around the country, even though my dream was to return here. The good thing for me was that Detroit wasn’t considered a prime placement and very few people put in for the Belle Isle location as their first choice. When I finally procured the experience I needed to be considered a gatekeeper, I was the only one who requested Detroit and I won by default. I was certain that had some people waggling their eyebrows, which I expected.
“Is that normal for here?” I asked. “I mean ... the part about the reapers needing help. I’ve only interned in the field collecting souls. I thought the operation was supposed to be much smoother than that.”
“I wouldn’t worry about going into the field,” Tara offered, her eyes focused straight ahead as she led me down a dark hallway. “That’s a rarity. The Grimlocks do tend to find trouble — I don’t think they can help themselves — but they get themselves out of it quite often. They’re down a man — er, woman, to be more precise — because the daughter is pregnant.”
“A pregnant reaper?” The thought had never occurred to me. “I didn’t think the souls were dangerous.”
“They’re not, but she’s very pregnant. According to office scuttlebutt, she’s due to give birth any day now. She’s the one who tends to stumble over wraiths left and right, so her father wants her out of the field. She found the wraith nest today, and if the emails flying fast and furious are to be believed she won’t be returning to the field anytime soon.”
“And what does that mean for my staff?”
“Nothing. The Grimlocks have a plan in place to cover during her maternity leave. Today was just one of those weird things. When you find that many wraiths in one place, it’s best to wipe them out so they can’t spread.”