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“Hi, I’m Tegan Stolle,” I begin, smiling despite his hostile expression. “I was just wondering if I could leave my CV with you since you’ve advertised for staff,” and I hand him the crisp white sheet of paper.
He looks at me strangely for a moment before taking it. “Yes, I’m looking for a shop assistant. My name is Marcel Girard, I’ll take a look at this and call you if you’re suitable for an interview.”
“Thanks,” I say, and turn to leave. I’m almost out the door when he calls me back.
“Miss, may I ask a question?” His voice is tentative and unsure.
“Ask away,” I reply, walking back to him.
“Are you a Wiccan?” he asks.
An involuntary laugh escapes my lips. “Me? No sorry, not my thing I’m afraid.”
“So you don’t even dabble in magic?”
“No, not at all.”
“Do any of your friends practice? Perhaps a room mate or a family member?”
“Not as far as I know, and I don’t have a room mate. The only family I’ve got is my dad and he’s definitely not the magic and witchcraft type.”
He ignores my insensitive response and takes a deep breath, then draws nearer to me. “May I be frank?”
“Sure.” I answer, a small bit puzzled. You run into all sorts in places like this.
“Well, hmm, how do I put this?” he says in a pondering tone. “You see, there’s a heavy magical aura all around you my dear. It’s almost as if someone has cast a spell on you, a strong one, one that has been permanent for a long time now.”
“O-kaay, well that’s good to know.” I tell him, eager to get away from this lunatic.
He fumbles in his pockets and then asks, “Could you wait here a moment? I’d like to get a second opinion on this.”
“All right,” I reply out of courtesy. He rushes off to the back of the shop and walks through the storeroom door before returning a minute later with another man.
The man he returns with is much younger than Marcel, probably mid-twenties, with dark brown hair and a fringe that sweeps to the side of his face, his eyes are a dark green colour.
“This is Gabriel,” says Marcel, “he works here in the shop and is a highly skilled Wiccan.”
Gabriel has a silver earring at the top of his right ear, and he’s wearing black jeans, steel toe cap boots, and a loose grey shirt. He’s carrying a stack of books, and he puts them down on the counter before asking, “What can I do for you Marcel?”
“I’d like you to meet Tegan,” Marcel gestures toward me.
Gabriel looks at me and nods politely, and then of all things he blushes and drops his gaze, as if he’s shy around girls or something.
Marcel clears his throat. “I would like you to use your expertise to determine what exactly it is that surrounds her. I can sense it is magic of some sort, but she claims she doesn’t practice, nor does she know anybody who does.”
Seriously, I don’t know whether to believe this crap and start getting freaked out or to be extremely bored with how naïve both of these men are. I remain silent as Gabriel takes a minute to study me.
Abruptly he says, “It’s a spell,” he squints his eyes a little as if in deep concentration, “and it was cast a long time ago by my estimation. It’s strong, perhaps even intended to last a life time,” then he steps up close to me and asks, “May I?” holding out his hand.
“Okay,” I reply, allowing him to take my hand into his. He keeps his eyes shut for a moment and then he lets go. He looks me in the eye, but not without effort, and I can’t help finding his shyness cute.
“It’s a spell cast by a good witch. By someone you are closely related to. My instincts tell me it was your mother, but it could have been your grandmother,
or maybe even an aunt. I can’t determine what exactly it was intended to do, but I do know that its purpose is a combination of concealment and protection.”
“Oh,” I say, not having expected so much information. “Well, my mother died when I was three, so I never really knew her. I don’t have any aunts and both of grandmothers died before I was born.”
“Well doesn’t that render this all the more mysterious,” says Marcel. “And I do love a good mystery,” he smiles at Gabriel, as if in silent communication. I think I see Gabriel shake his head at Marcel ever so slightly, but I can’t be sure.
