“If I see one more kid named ‘Raven’ it’ll be too soon,” muttered the old woman darkly.
Caroline Ovesen exhaled sharply through her nose, more frustrated than angry. Since putting the ad in the paper for someone to work at her bookshop, she had gotten every New Ager in a fifty mile radius. Most were empty-headed pagans, espousing upon the beauties of Gaia and their own wishes for a natural revolution. The ones who weren’t pagans were vegans. Some were both.
Caroline was getting old, and the cancer was getting to be a cramp in her style. She had spent her life in the bookstore, kept it open for mages and wizards, and some new agers though that wasn’t her main clientele. It was for the serious magician or magus. She had the typical Llwellyn titles for the masses and the “serious” magician. She also had the more serious tomes that she herself had copied by hand from tomes that were first editions, or supposedly lost scrolls. Those were in a safe vault offsite.
She needed someone to not only work the computer, do the inventory, and count change, but to also know a little bit about the subject at hand. She didn’t want to leave the store to her three children, who thought she was a tree-hugging pagan herself, but wanted to leave it to someone who could take care of it and appreciate it. Her kids would sell it to some lowball mage who would take the money and run.
Caroline took out the next resume and squinted at it.
James Aster, Vibora Bay
2005-2012 The Palms, Las Vegas. Stage Magician.
2003-2005 Rio, Las Vegas. Stage Magician.
2000-2003 Terribles, Las Vegas. Stage Magician.
She put her glasses on and looked again. Stage Magician? What prompted her to call him in?
The door opened, a chime tinkling above it. Caroline looked up to see a dark haired man in a simple dark blue suit. He didn’t look like the last few interviewees she’d had, thank the Gods. He was definitely older than the last few, and looked like he was going to take this seriously.
“Good morning,” he said, “I hope I’m not too early.”
He was five minutes early, which she acknowledged. “That’s all right, we can have some tea first.”
“Thank you,” he said, and stepped into the shop, looking around. “Nice place here.”
“Thanks.” She made some orange blossom tea and handed it to him. He took a sip, added half a cube of sugar. “I looked at your resume, and I wonder what a stage magician has to do with a New Age book store.”
“I noticed you don’t have a lot of New Age titles,” he said, and he went to a book case, taking down one of the smaller hand-made tomes, a cheaper book of only $45. He opened to the first page. “This one, for instance, is a rare listing of healing sigils.” The book was only twenty or so pages long, with extra pages in back for notes. He perused the book, “In fact, it’s taken from a larger book called Zeichen des Lichts.”
Wow, and made a decision to hire him on the spot. “How do you know about all that?”
“I had my own copies of these books,” he said sadly. “I had to sell them.”
“You’re not really a stage magician, are you?”
He shook his head.
“When can you start?”
“As soon as you want me to.”
“Give me half an hour to call everyone else I had interviews for. You’re hired.”
“You didn’t tell me what you needed – “
“You know your stuff. I’m not going to get some bubble-head to come in here and try to sell real wizards and witches what they really need – and you look the type to know the difference between a real witch and a poseur.”
“Okay, but – “
She wagged a finger at him, “And I know when a spell is slung at my direction.”
A very small grin crossed his face. “You got me there.”
She muttered, “Stage magician, indeed…” and started making calls.