Vampire Graduate Scheme: Placement Two: The Archives by Clatworthy G

Author:Clatworthy, G
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-10-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Workplace humour can be a strong bonding experience, but we encourage professionalism at all times.

Elizabeth Bathory – The First Disrupter

My body moved of its own accord, not wanting to be fried by an irate djinni. The lightning bolt passed overhead as I huddled in a small ball on the floor, my hands cradling my head. The tang of singed wood filled the air.

“Why would you trap me, Elle of the graduate scheme? I thought we were friends.” Ahmed’s voice still held the booming echoes of power, but now a trace of pain and betrayal lanced through it.

“We are. I didn’t,” I squeaked.

“You didn’t?” Ahmed lowered himself from where he swirled near the ceiling and took his more human form, bending so he could peer at me where I cowered under the desk.

I blinked up at him, my face wet with tears, and shook my head. “I got you out.”

“Then you rescued me. Thank you.” Ahmed pulled me into a bear hug that rivalled George’s squeezes and forced another squeak from me.

When he set me down, I trembled from shock. Ahmed clapped my shoulder, making me step forward from the force.

Over my head, he caught sight of the fae who watched us with a tilted head and a confused expression.

Ahmed puffed himself up. “So you are my tormentor.” The djinni aimed his forefinger at the fae.

I placed my hand on his arm. “No, Pytha brought him. I have to answer his questions to fulfil my favour to her.”

“Does the type of djeli matter?” the fae asked, using a long finger to wipe a smear of green from his cheek. He sniffed it with curiosity before sticking out his tongue and licking it. His mouth curdled into a sneer. “This is food?” he asked again.

Ahmed lowered his hand. “Djeli.” He spat the word and glared at the lime globules that coated the desk, the walls, the ceiling, me and the fae. Muttering in a language I didn’t understand, Ahmed snapped his fingers and all the fragments of jelly congealed back onto the plate, which now sat apart from his inkwell. He took a deep breath and when he turned back, a glassy smile curved his lips. “Enough of this silliness, how can we help a friend of Pytha’s?”

The fae coughed and looked at us. “I have come to enquire about the precautions surrounding the Crown of Winter. It is a valuable fae artefact, as I’m sure the emperor told you.”

“Oh, you work for him?” I asked.

“I have come to check how well you have guarded the crown.”

“You don’t have to worry,” I said with a smile. Ahmed still looked like he was cooking up ways to kill whoever had covered his home with jelly. “We’ve taken every precaution. It’s stored in the most secure section of the Archives; the restricted section.”

“I take it there are wards.” The fae sounded bored, but his eyes were bright and interested.

I nodded, keen to impress Ahmed with my understanding of our storage. “There are more wards around the section, as well as alarms and it is in the deepest part of the labyrinth.

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