GODDESSES INC

17

Axie sat tall in the chair, her knees touching, both Fendi-clad feet on the floor. The university office was cheery with light woods and white walls. In her cream-colored Saint John suit, Axie stuck out like a desert rose in a sand dune. Overdressing never made her feel self-conscious before, now she wondered if it would prevent her from getting the job.

Axie patted her purse. Folded neatly inside was the flyer that had been stapled with all the others on the University Jobs Board. Last week she ordered her favorite coffee—sugar, water, cardamom, and fine-ground Iranian coffee beans boiled in a copper ibrik—from the campus coffee shop. The only one in the area who made the aromatic and delectable brew. After drinking it, she read the coffee grinds. The message was clear: share. The how remained unknown. Axie looked up, the University Jobs Board the answer to her question.

Today, a to-go cup of the same brew in her hand, Axie waited patiently in the department anteroom for the interview.

"You can go in now," said a purple-haired woman from behind the reception desk.

Axie went through the open door.

Professor Amir Azam, Doctor of Middle Eastern studies, sat behind a desk stacked with books, folders, and papers. "You must be," he glanced down at a paper. "Axtis Khan."

"I am." Axie set the coffee on his desk. "For you." It was difficult not to gawk at the man. He was swoon-worthy in a dangerous sexy way, with blue eyes that sparkled as though he knew things. Sensual delicious things.

Professor Azam rubbed his jaw, which was covered with precisely trimmed five-day scruff. "How do you know I drink coffee?"

Axie pointed to the name plate. "I took a wild guess."

Professor Azam reached out. He didn't look like a stuffy academic. No, he looked more like the roguish Persian prince from an ancient love story. "Please. Take a seat." His eyes traveled up and down, his brow furrowing with confusion for the briefest moment.

Axie sat, eager to begin the interview. She spent days preparing for it, read all about the interview process, what to say, what to expect. She crossed her ankles.

"You have an interesting name. Axtis is the Iranian goddess of peace, justice, and victory." He took his first sip of the coffee.

"Yes." Axie tried to think of something else to say. The most common interview advice was not to give a one-word answer, but Professor Azam did not ask a question. "The name means victorious peace."

"That particular goddess didn't do her job." He took the lid off the coffee, sniffed at it.

Axie's eyes widened. "Pardon?" The remark surprised her, she never heard anyone disparage her before.

"Axtis. The goddess. The middle east is a war-torn land." Professor Azam's fingers ran through his hair, combed back in an effort to tame the waves. Only a few defiant curls rebelled at the ends. "This coffee is made in an ibrik. It's delicious. Never had an interviewee bring me coffee." He smiled. "I need a research assistant who knows her Persian goddesses and—"

"I know them all." Never interrupt the interviewer. Axie recalled reading that rule. This was not going well, at all.

Professor Azam's thick straight brows lifted.

"I am well versed in all Persian history."

The professor's lips pressed into politeness, his disappointment easy to read. Another applicant who did not understand what a curriculum vitae was. He tapped the paper. "I'm not familiar with any of these people or institutions listed here."

Because they no longer exist, but Axie could not tell him that.

"I worked for private foundations." Axie was prepared. To lie. Even though falsehoods went against every fiber of her being. There could never be real peace in a world when the opposite sides were dishonest. It was easy when she was immortal. She simply identified a liar. That divine power, unfortunately, disappeared with her immortality. Yet the need to tell the truth still entangled around her soul like a vine. "The people and institutions remain behind the scenes." The half-truth didn't pain her quite as much, but it was still half a truth. She pointed to her CV. "This bit of paper does not accurately reflect my knowledge."

"No? It says you speak..." Professor Azam glanced down at the paper. "Farsi, Arabic, Turkish, several dialects, old Persian, classical Persian, and contemporary Persian." He looked up, skepticism in the creases of his forced smile. "How fluent are you?"

Was this a trick question? "Advanced proficiency. I also am able to translate Classical Sumerian, Middle Egyptian, Old Babylonian, Middle Assyrian, Vedic Sanskrit, Classical Hebrew, Aramaic, Sanskrit, Latin, Syriac, Middle Persian, and Coptic. My Middle Age languages include—"

"That's impressive." Professor Azam held up his hand, his voice was without inflection, flat with suspicion. "Where did you learn all those languages?"

"I had an unusual upbringing and many fine teachers." Axie shifted in her seat, glanced at the walls of books, her fingers itching to open them.

Professor Azam leaned back in the chair. "Why do you want this job? My research grant's budget is small. Not enough to pay what you're worth. Why not work for a private foundation in the US?"

Axie uncrossed and re-crossed her ankles. She didn't prepare for that question. "I don't have a formal degree, which makes it difficult to apply for research jobs in this country. I hoped I could prove my skills to you." She indicated one of the crammed bookcases.

Professor Azam did not look at the bookshelves, instead he gazed at her with renewed interest. "You would be perfect for the job. It's like the goddess Axtis herself walked into my office and offered a chance at an academic victory."

Axie's heart quickened. "Does that mean I have the job?"

"Well..." He tapped a pen on the desk. "I'd like to see your translating skills in action." He stood, his runner's body, lean and fit. "You'll be translating texts of dubious authenticity." He ran his finger over a row of books, stopped at a pile of folders wedged in between. "I'm compiling a list for my new book, the definitive source of Persian myths."

"Sounds wonderful."

Professor Azam turned to her, his expression one of wary suspicion. "I should hope so. You'll translate and categorize. Are you proficient in Excel?"

Axie did not want to lie. "It's not my favorite program."

"Mine either." He pulled a thick stack of folders from the bookcase, slapped them on the desk in front of her, and flipped open the first one. "Read."

"This is a Sabean dialect from the Wādī Hadramawt region." Axie picked up the photograph. "Some call it the Sayhadic dialect. This appears to be an inscription from a building."

Professor Azam's brows shot up. "Go on."

An hour later, Axie walked out of Professor Azam's office. With a job! She skipped down the steps, her heart bursting with accomplishment, and sent Got the research assistant job in a group message to Mnem, Inna, and Naret.

The pay was terrible, but the professor was a hottie. The hours were awful, but she would be surrounded by her favorite things, ancient history and mythology. When Axie looked at the photographs of the artifacts, the modern world disappeared. She was home again. To a time and place where she was once revered. When magi and kings consulted her. When consorts and favorites asked for consultations. When her presence alone assured peace between kingdoms. It felt like forever ago.

The research assistant job was a steppingstone to a more lucrative career. The possibilities rippled through her body, nestled in her bones. Looking up into the azure sky, Axie wondered whether Shee was proud or irritated by her mortal success.

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Goddesses Inc is available on Amazon,  Apple Books,  B&N, Google Books, and Kobo.

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