Free The Deathsniffer’s Assistant (The Faraday Files Book 1) by Kate McIntyre Page A

through the mirror. “Come to work. Right now. And do stop crying about it. Gods, that’s irritating.” She paused for a moment of thought, and then added with a sneer, “And if have you a problem with any of that, then I’ll happily go looking for a new assistant. One who doesn’t give me any shit.”
    “My
sister
is―” he began, but Olivia was turning away from the mirror and the image was going unfocused and cloudy. His own reflection replaced it, and the brown glow became dull and inert once again.
    He balled his hand and forced himself not to put his fist right through the mirror. This was ridiculous. How could anybody be expected to
deal
with such a person? One moment, he thought he could grow to respect Olivia. Maybe even like her. And then in the next, she was like a bat out of the three hells and his greatest comfort came in the fantasy of marching into her creepy little office and sacking himself.
    Fernand’s words came back to him.
    He breathed.
    The key to any situation was self-control. He had to find his self-control, and then everything would be all right. He turned to Fernand and Rosemary wearing a rueful and apologetic smile. “Well, Rosie,” he said, pleased at how composed he sounded. “I suppose we’re going to have to postpone White Clover.”
    Rosemary was, for once, shocked into silence. It was Fernand who replied. “Well, I’m sure the young miss doesn’t mind terribly, do you Rosemary?”
    “…no,” Rosemary said faintly. “Of course not. That’s fine, Chris. I can wait.”
    “Could you contact Rachel Albany for me?” Chris asked Fernand. He hated to put this on the man—he did enough as it was, but he couldn’t leave Rosemary alone. “I hope she’ll be willing to come in on a Healfday.”
    Chris turned to look at himself in the magic mirror. He was overdressed for work, but there was certainly no time to change. “I just need to get my notebook,” he said to the mirror, as if Olivia could hear him. It would be a fine day, he told himself. Everything would be just fine.
    When he was halfway up the stairs, he was stopped by Rosemary’s voice. “Chris!” she called. He stopped and turned. His sister looked up at him with wide blue eyes, something between fear and wonder swimming there. “Was that
her
?”
    Not even that brilliant little scene could shake her out of her admiration of the woman. “Yes, Rosemary,” Chris droned. “That was Olivia Faraday.”
    “I thought so.” Rosemary cast a glance behind her at the mirror. A furrow appeared between her brows and she twirled one of her artful curls around a finger as she stared. “…she made the gnome laugh when she yelled at you,” she murmured, a small smile curling onto her lips like a contented cat. “And he never, ever does.”

    Christopher arrived up at Olivia’s office to find her standing at the curb tapping one foot. The dark professional gown from her image in the mirror had been replaced by a flamboyantly colourful piece, layered extravagantly in a style that hadn’t been popular since his mother had been a young debutante. Her hair, gloves, and shoes were all fitted into the same era as her dress, making it look like she had stepped out of a fashion plate from thirty years ago. She rolled her eyes and flagged a taxi as soon as he fell into place beside her. “Finally,” she said just loud enough for him to hear.
    He kept himself under control. “Good morning, Miss Faraday,” he said politely. “I’m very sorry for keeping you waiting.”
    Olivia growled and flung open the door of the cab. She climbed up inside, folded herself down, and gave him a jerk of her head to indicate the other seat.
    Chris nodded cordially to the driver. “The val Daren estate, please.”
    The cabbie pulled his pipe out of his mouth and took his time prodding around in the bowl. “Long way out of city limits, that place,” he drawled.
    Olivia made a frustrated sound. “We’ll pay.”
    The driver put his pipe back