The Secrets of Darkling Manor

One: Alina Starkov

One

Alina Starkov

There were a lot of things that were supposed to be happening that weren't. Like, for instance, her employer picking her up. Or, at the very least, her employer's maid. Or assistant. Or someone. From the steps of the train station, Alina squinted at the name she had written down. Ivan Kaminsky was supposed to be meeting her but so far, no one had shown. Which wouldn't have been a problem except she was in the middle of nowhere, it was about to rain, and this wasn't even the job that she had wanted in the first place.

What she had wanted was the graphic design lead position. However, that, along with everything else in her life had gone drastically. First, her roommate Mal had shut off her alarm so she'd been late.

"Mal!" she hissed as she threw on the blouse she'd gotten specifically for that interview, a skirt, and high heels she never wore besides the office. "How could you shut my alarm off? I swear, one of these days, I'm just going to kill you."

He smirked at her from where he stood, leaning against the door jam of his bedroom. "Relax, Alina. You're far too uptight. You've got plenty of time. You set your alarm clock to wake you up an hour early!"

"Yes, so I would have time to get dressed, eat, get to the subway, and get there on time. Now, I have just enough time to get dressed and get to the subway and that's if it isn't late. CHRIST."

She had just glanced at the time on her cell phone. She was going to be so, so late.

"Sorry, Sticks. But you know how I feel about this whole thing. You shouldn't be giving up your art for some menial desk job. Let alone for Morozova inc. They're corporate. You'll hate it," he said, "you should be focusing on----"

"What, my dream job?" Alina said. She rolled her eyes. "Dreams don't pay the bills, Mal. At least if it's a graphic design position, I'm somewhat doing what I love. Not all of us have a family inheritance to fall back on from our dead parents. That you mysteriously never told me about until recently. I really did think you were a dead beat for a while."

"Charming," Mal said, "well, it's because my Dad's family disowned him for marrying my Mum. I didn't even want the money really. Got it shoved at me. It was the only way I could get them to leave me alone."

"About what?" Alina said.

"Working for them," he said with a shudder, "anyway, if you see Aleks, tell my cousin to go to hell."

Alina laughed. "I definitely will not. If everything works out, he's going to be my boss. Now, how do I look?"

She had just finished pulling her hair up into a messy bun and brushing her teeth.

Mal reached over and wiped a dab of toothpaste from her bottom lip. "Perfect," he said with a smile, "knock 'em dead, even if I think you're selling your soul to corporate greed."

She rolled her eyes. "Order a pizza. I got tip money from waitressing last night. It's in my piggybank."

He chuckled. "You're twenty-one, Alina. You really are far too old for a piggybank."

"The piggybank is cute. Shut up. I'm going," she said, "do something productive you know. Like FIND A JOB."

"Rah, rah. Okay, Mum."

She shook her head and hurried out the door, shrugging her blazer on, then her purse. Alina hurriedly ran to the train station, only just getting on in time. When she arrived at the Morozova inc building, she had blisters from running to not be late. Sweat was pouring down her face, and the "messy bun" she had thrown together had fallen apart.