Vampire graduate scheme.., p.1
Vampire Graduate Scheme: Placement Two: The Archives, page 1
Vampire Graduate Scheme
Placement 2: The Archives
ISBN: 978-1-915516-83-1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
© Gemma Clatworthy 2025
Find more at www.gemmaclatworthy.com
The moral right of Gemma Clatworthy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Generative AI was not used in the production of this book and this book may not be used for the purposes of training AI models without the express permission of the copyright owner of this book.
Cover art by Get Covers.
Published by G Clatworthy
www.gemmaclatworthy.com
gemma@gemmaclatworthy.com
Contents
Vampire Graduate Scheme
Placement 2: The Archives
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Thank you
Other Books by G Clatworthy
Children’s Books
About the Author
Foreword
This book is for anyone who’s ever felt like they’re working for vampires and the company is sucking the life out of you!
A special thank you to my amazing typo hunters, grammar gurus, and plot pickers who got this story to where it is today. You are awesome!
If you want to support Gemma, you can find her on patreon for exclusive first reads of new stories. You can also join her newsletter for free stories at www.gemmaclatworthy.com and follow Gemma on www.instagram.com/gemmaclatworthy, www.facebook.com/gemmaclatworthy or join the reader’s group on facebook: Gemma’s book wyrms. And grab a free prequel to the Vampire Graduate Scheme series here: https://books.gemmaclatworthy.com/vampire-graduate-scheme-prequel
Chapter 1
Embrace change. Change is good. It will make you more adaptable and stronger, more able to take on future disruptions.
Elizabeth Bathory – The First Disrupter
The tap of my high-heeled shoes on the tiled atrium floor reverberated around the building as I crossed to the lifts. It was the first day back after the New Year’s bank holiday and someone had transformed the place, removing the three enormous Christmas trees that had leant an air of magic and whimsy to the sleek headquarters of the Bathory Corporation as if they had never existed.
Now all that decorated the stark atrium were the banners displaying the company’s values of Bravery, Overachievement, Loyalty, and Drive under the corporation’s logo of a black bat on a red background.
I shivered despite the brightness of the atrium, shoulders down, chin up, preparing myself for…I didn’t know what for. I had no idea what to expect. But everyone I’d told about my new placement had given me a look that was a combination of humour and pity. So, I wasn’t expecting anything good.
“Elle!” A familiar voice broke into my anxiety.
“Hi Precious, did you have a nice break?”
“Yeah, it was great to spend time with the family. Did you have any time off?”
I shook my head. Christmas was a time for family closeness and as a foster kid who’d walked out of my last place with a silent vow never to come back, I didn’t have a family to spend the holidays with. Instead, I’d worked here. I’d even asked if it was possible to work the bank holidays, but the look my mentor had given me was so full of pity that I’d mumbled that I was just kidding and hurried out of his office.
“Tell me you got some decent presents.”
“Er…” I had bought myself a biography of Stephen Hawking to read. “Just some books. You?”
She flipped her braids forward and pointed to a gold ring threaded through one of her plaits. It had a dagger engraved on it. “Mum and Dad got me this ahead of my initiation later this year. I’m going to be a full clan member.”
“Cool.” I knew nothing about orc clans or traditions, except Precious always carried a large dagger with her for cultural reasons. At least that’s what she told the HR Director who had tried to take it away from her during the presentation course we’d attended last year.
“It’s later than normal, but I wanted to wait until after university.”
“OK.”
“You should come! Mum and Dad would love you.”
“Ladies!” Tristan’s voice boomed unapologetically across the atrium, and he jogged over, his shiny laced shoes squeaking on the tiles. He draped an arm around Precious’ shoulders. “What’s the happy hap?” he asked without any trace of irony in his public schoolboy posh voice. “How was your break? Did Santa bring you anything good from his bulging sack?”
Precious shoved him off and pulled a face, baring the tusks that protruded above her bottom lip. “You’re disgusting.”
“Just glad to be back in the old office after Christmas. You ready for the Archives?” He drew out the last word with a timbre that might have been meant to be spooky.
I shrugged. “It’ll be fine.” I’d told myself that over and over ever since the Christmas party where Elizabeth Bathory herself, CEO of the Bathory Corporation, had told me that was my second placement on the graduate scheme.
“I’m in Risk Management,” Tristan said, as if anyone had asked.
“Really?” They had chosen him for Risk Management. “Are you going to build the assessment models?” Keenness shone in my voice, overriding the stab of jealousy in my chest. Using mathematics in the real world would be amazing, something I didn’t think I’d get a chance to do in the Archives.
“Not sure. The Director said I could shadow a few teams this week, get a feel for things. But I’ll probably end up heading a team in this placement.”
Precious guffawed. “You wish. They’ll throw you out after a week when they realise you don’t understand coding or statistics.”
“My art history degree could come in useful. What if I have to risk assess some old paintings?”
“Sounds like your education might be more useful in the Archives. Fancy switching?” It was only half a joke.
“No thanks. Even if risk isn’t my thing, I can network better above ground. Catch ya later, losers.” He stepped into the elevator and whipped his phone out.
Precious scowled after him. “One day, that grak is going to have an accident…with my fist.”
I stifled a laugh. It would do Tristan some good to be taken down a peg or two, but I wasn’t entirely sure Precious was joking.
She shook the grimace from her face and replaced it with her usual bright smile. “Have a good day. You’ll be great. See you at lunch.”
I waved as she followed Tristan into the lift, standing as far away as she could from him. I waited for the next elevator. I was going down, deep into the basement floors where the Archives Department lived. I pressed each finger on my left hand against my thumb in an effort to calm myself with the repetitive motion.
It was fine. It was just another placement. Even if it was awful, it was only a few months then I’d be somewhere new. Unless I messed up again. But how likely was it that I’d uncover another fraud in the Archives? Or that I’d embarrass the company by announcing said fraud at the Christmas party? It wasn’t my fault that I hadn’t realised the microphone picked up my voice, but no one had been happy. That was why I was punished with this placement. But it would be fine.
I stepped into the elevator.
“Hold the door.” The shout cut through my spiralling thoughts, and I pressed the button.
A tall man in a checked shirt and grey trousers with devastating chocolate-coloured eyes hidden behind thick-framed glasses darted into the lift. Liam.
“Going down?” he asked.
I goggled at him. That was too inappropriate, even if we’d shared a dance at the Christmas party. My face reddened. Then I realised he meant the lif
He gave a low whistle. “Wow, they are testing you, aren’t they?”
“What do you mean?” A frown creased my forehead.
“I haven’t heard of anyone joining the Archives Department since I’ve worked here. They must think you’re something special.”
“Maybe.” My frown deepened. I hadn’t thought of it like that. That this placement might be a reward instead of a punishment.
We rode the lift in silence for a long moment before I blurted out, “How was Christmas?” Stupid question. I didn’t even know if he celebrated the holiday.
“Lonely. My folks were on a cruise.” Some emotion that I couldn’t read flickered over his handsome face. “A couple of friends invited me to theirs, but I didn’t want to be a third wheel, so I ended up on my own for Christmas and New Year. Sad, right?”
“Totally,” I agreed. He looked down at his shoes in embarrassment, so I decided to ‘fess up. “I spent it alone too, but I took some work home. So, I guess that makes me sadder?”
“Yeah? Did you order a takeaway too?”
I leaned forward. “Sweet and sour chicken balls.”
“Ouch. At least it wasn’t turkey.”
“You didn’t?”
“Yep. With cranberry sauce. And I watched the King’s speech.”
I winced and put a hand to my heart in mock horror. “Did you end up dressing your pet in a Christmas bow?”
“You have a pet? Then you weren’t alone! I win at loneliest Christmas!”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Is that something you want to win at?”
The door opened with a ding, and he stepped out. “See you around, Elle,” he said as the doors closed.
I smiled and shook my head. He was weird, but he’d made me forget about my new placement for a couple of minutes and…that dance. It had felt like it meant something, but so much had happened during the party and I’d made sure I was busy at work afterwards, and then there were the enforced bank holidays of the Christmas season…it was easy to push it to the back of my mind. It probably meant nothing, especially since he had a girlfriend. And I had bigger things to worry about than my non-existent love life.
The elevator doors slid open. I had arrived at the Archives.
Chapter 2
There is no magic genie waiting to grant your wishes; you have to make things happen for yourself.
Elizabeth Bathory – The First Disrupter
As the elevator doors closed behind me, my first impression of the place was of age. There’s a certain smell – part dust, part paper, part leather, part something else – that tells you something has been around for a long time and this basement floor had that scent. The dark wood panelling added to the old aura. It looked original, but the building wasn’t old enough to have centuries old panelling in it. At least, I didn’t think it was.
I gazed over the polished wooden desk. Behind it was a large wheel with seven display stands for books built into it. One of the display boards had a thick volume on it, held open by a book ribbon that lay across ancient pages.
A corridor stretched away from the desk showing the edges of shelves that disappeared into darkness. I could make out the first row of shelving, complete with yellowed labels that curled off the wood, but not much more, just the sense that there was a large space back there. When they said Archives, they weren’t kidding.
The desk itself was more like an old-fashioned shopkeeper’s counter than a tradition desk. It made me nervous, like it was designed to keep the riff-raff out and I was the riff-raff. I’d seen one like it on a school tour of some museum. A stack of papers rested on the desk next to an elaborate inkwell that suggested I had gone back in time to the eighteenth century.
I stepped up to the desk that cut off the shelving from the small reception. The light here was different, muted and reminiscent of candles instead of the electric strip lights that illuminated the upper floors. My feet made no noise on the soft blue carpet.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
Maybe the director was somewhere in the Archives, searching for something. I shifted from foot to foot. Should I venture behind the desk? Precious wouldn’t hesitate, but I wasn’t as confident as my orc friend. Still, I should probably take some sort of initiative. After all, bravery was one of the company values.
I looked around and found the hinged section that allowed me to cross to the other side. I stood there for a moment, repeating my calming exercise of tapping each finger against my thumb on my right hand. The Bathory Corporation was all about taking the initiative. I lifted the section.
A warm desert wind brushed over my skin, followed by the sticky sensation of cobwebs on my fingertips. Didn’t they dust in here? I pulled my hand away and brushed it off.
“Who dares to breach the sanctity of the Archives?” A booming voice echoed around the room.
I whirled around, checking behind me. There was nobody there.
Silver-blue smoke swirled out from the desk.
I dropped the hinged section of the desk and stepped back, gripping my laptop bag. “S-sorry.”
The smoke grew into an enormous cloud that flickered with bolts of blue lightning. “Who dares to breach the sanctity of these Archives?”
“Elle, Elle Bruma.”
“Elle Elle Bruma, prepare to meet your doom.”
The smoke thickened and spread out, engulfing the desk and filling the space in front of me. I backed into the cold metal lift doors and mashed my hand against the panel outside, praying that a lift would arrive.
“Sorry. I was told to come here, but it was a mistake. I’ll just leave. Sorry,” I babbled, still pressing buttons.
“Who sent you to steal from the Archives?” Golden eyes appeared in the menacing fog, focused on me.
The stench of bad eggs filled my throat and made it hard to breathe.
“Steal? No! I work here. I have a placement here.”
The smoke sucked in on itself and formed a humanoid shape. The voice changed from deep and booming to quizzical. “You have a placement in the Archives?”
I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.
The humanoid form shrank down until it was a short man, only a couple of inches taller than me. My gaze first caught on his striking gold waistcoat, hung with braiding that fell to his knees. When my eyes had adjusted to the dazzling light that came from the garment, I could focus on his face, which sported a long thin moustache that fell below his chin and the bushiest eyebrows I had ever seen, styled into points that stretched up to his unlined forehead.
His eyes glowed a brighter gold than his waistcoat and, despite his lack of wrinkles, I had the impression that he had lived for a long time. I tore my gaze away and stared at the carpet, catching a glimpse of pointed purple slippers poking out from under baggy black trousers.
He studied me, then shook his head, his short queue of hair shaking in time with his movement. “Nobody tells me anything. Let me see…” He disappeared and reappeared behind the desk where he shuffled through a stack of papers. “Oh, yes. Noelle Bruma. On the graduate scheme. How exciting! I have not had a graduate placement before. But, why did you not ring?”
I looked from his puzzled face to the ornate inkwell that he pointed at. There was a piece of paper next to that said in faded brown letters: Rub for service. It was half covered by a stack of papers. I had completely missed it.
“Errr…”
“It is quite simple. If you wanted to speak to me, you should just rub it.” I blushed, not knowing where this was going. He took pity on me. “The inkwell. Rub it. That’s how I know if someone needs me. Can you follow simple instructions, Miss Bruma?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good.” He rubbed his hands together. “Good. Yes. Alright, I suppose you can come back here. How did you lift the hatch?” He squinted at me, his golden eyes narrowing to slits.
Was that a trick question? I hurried to get behind the wooden desk, shutting the hinged wood behind me. He stood there, waiting for a reply. “I saw the hinges in the wood and lifted it up.”
“Hmmmm. I will have to redo the security wards if just anyone can get through. But, at least I can add you to the protocols so you can come and go as you need to. I cannot deal with you waking me up every time you want to go for lunch. Is that something you do?”
