Saturday came, and with it came our new coworker, Sandra. She arrived fairly early, at around 0800 in the morning. I had gotten in the habit of waking up early myself at around 0600 due to my tendency to drag my feet as I woke up, it gave me extra time to enjoy my coffee, so an 8 AM meeting time seemed perfectly reasonable to me. After all, we were working, not taking an easy weekend off.

Seeing Sandra’s complexion made me rethink this. Her bedraggled appearance from our previous meeting was about the same. Considering she had a week to recuperate from the hare-brained spell she had managed to pull off before getting dragged in by our boss, I’d assumed she’d at least show a slight improvement, but she looked just the same as ever. At least, that’s what I thought until she opened her mouth.

“It’s a fucking three-hour long drive! Keep that in mind before planning these things.” She seemed angry.

“I’d have to get up at three or four in the morning every day at one of my last jobs.” I calmly sipped my perfectly brewed, if I may say so myself, Guatemalan Huehuetanango.

“I’m a college student, not a god-damn soldier!” I was getting the impression she wasn’t a morning person.

“Aren’t you pre-med? You might as well get used to early mornings now, I heard interns get all the worst jobs. Come to think of it, you’re pretty much an intern already.”

For a moment I could swear actual steam was coming out of her ears. Wait, that actually is steam. They do say the deeper someone goes down the path into the occult or esoteric, the more likely occult things are to manifest about them. Tales of ascetics living off water and bread and such. come to mind. And something at the level of splitting open reality is definitely deep into the occult. Maybe I should hold back. Plus, normally weird manifestations of supernatural power turned out differently, like levitating when in meditation or stigmata appearing after long sessions of prayer. Weird.

“You’re a student too, you should know how important sleep is.”

“Excuses. You probably just have a horrid sleep schedule, staying up until dawn pounding energy drinks.” Yes, I know this is the pot calling the kettle black. But I’ve been much better about my sleep hygiene recently.

“Amy, stop picking on the new hire!” Liah punctuated her scolding with a quick flick at the back of my head. “And Sandra, come inside before it gets too cold. We have coffee.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Thorne.” Sandra replied, causing a pang of annoyance to flare across my bond with Liah.

“Mrs.?” She asked.

“I dunno, you just seem like the older, more mature one out of the two of you. I suppose you’re both “Mrs.,” but it seems more appropriate to call you that than her.” She was the very picture of earnestness, leaving no doubt these were her true thoughts.

Liah stood there. She was frozen in place; the shock she was feeling not even able to show itself on her face. You could practically hear the gears jumping in her brain, the wrench thrown in the workings of her mind by Sandra causing a catastrophic failure. The only thing that seemed to set the whole works running again was the muffled giggling I was desperately trying to suppress.

“Stop cackling at me!” She wheeled to face me.

“Of course, ma’am.” I replied.

“It’s because you can’t act your age...” she muttered angrily at me.

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“All jokes aside, I’m really not that old. There’s nothing with being wrong with being a bit lighthearted. Life’s serious enough as it is.”

“I swear, I’m married to a toddler.” But the shade of affection in her voice lessened the blow. I really don’t think I’m that bad.

“Anyway, let’s get in. It’s chilly out, and I probably should give a quick run-down on out plans for the day. Don’t worry, it won’t be super-formal or anything.” I gestured for Sandra to get out of the November chill. As she walked through the door, she seemed surprised at something.

“This seems rather...normal.” She paused as she searched for the words.

“Stereotyping your boss? It’s not like I have skulls hanging up or a bubbling cauldron in here.” I keep the large cauldron in the backyard by the fire pit. Don’t judge me, how could I not buy one?

“No, I assumed it’d be a bit more...nerdy? You definitely give off a nerdy feeling. Especially at the bookstore the other day.” I’d be much more insulted if she wasn’t right.

“Did you really think I’m that much of a geek?” Even if she was right, it’s still rude to point it out.

“She has whole rooms dedicated to her hobbies.” Liah having to out me again. “She somehow thinks she’s hiding her interests. One of those closet cases, although if she were any less subtle about it she’d be Naruto-running everywhere.” Now that was too far. I have to put my foot down.

“Do you want to turn one of the unused rooms into a studio?” I asked politely. What happened to resolving to put my foot down? Hear me out, my plan is outright devious: by turning one of the rooms in this house into an art studio, she’ll lose any right to make fun of me for using several for my hobbies. My plan is flawless! By giving in to her, uh, actual career needs and being a supportive wife…

“I’m grateful you aren’t one of those who typecasts art as a hobby and not a career at least” I know even if she couldn’t read my thoughts I probably wouldn’t manage to get one over on her. Still, she doesn’t seem too unhappy, going off of the way the corners of her mouth kept twitching up. Really it wasn’t that big of a deal. After seeing how much my job at the Archive paid, and how large of a VA home-loan I could get, I may have gone a bit overboard with the square-footage of my home. Turning one of the spare rooms into an art studio was nothing.

“I’m literally an art history major.” Something I almost forgot myself half the time with all this nonsense from work. “Your career prospects in your major are far better than mine. At least, they would be if I wasn’t already employed.”

“I do have to wonder if medieval studies might be better suited for what you do than art history.” She mused.

“There really isn’t a major for ‘magus’ after all.” Sandra chimed in, seemingly relieved that the conversation swerved back towards something she was familiar with.

“Historically it was often the clergy who dabbled in magic… hmm, my school actually does have a theology department. But changing my major now would just be giving in to the annoying demands of that woman…” I still have more than a bit of a grudge towards my boss, in case you haven’t guessed.

“Going full-on Catholic priest doesn’t seem like it’d work, for a whole fuck-ton of reasons.” Liah interrupted what was sure to be a fun flight of fancy.

“What, the whole ‘women can’t become clergy’ thing? I could totally pull it off, somehow. Haven’t you heard the rumors about a Pope Joan?”

“Hearsay and amusing stories.” Sandra replied, having fun with the conversation. “But the ‘witchcraft’ thing is just as big of a point against you taking the vows. And the gay-marriage thing. The Catholics aren’t big on that. Or any marriage for clergy, gay or not.”

“Don’t spoil my dreams!” I shouted in mock indignation.

“That said, I’d imagine a few courses in Latin and theology could be useful.” Sandra paused a moment in thought. “It’s a shame my scholarship doesn’t let me take too many electives.”

“Hah, I’m planning on at least taking Latin. I wonder if a focus on manuscripts would fall under Art History or Medieval studies? I could always claim I’m focusing on the illumination and illustrations of old texts.” The illustrations in some of the manuscripts at work sometimes gave me splitting migraines if I focused on them, but that’s a minor bump in the road.

“Your boss at least feels like she’s right from the pages of De Lamiis. Although that falls more under incunabulum than manuscript.” Sandra is really hitting below the belt with my boss, but I can relate; she really does give off classical ‘part of a great conspiracy against all decent folk, profane kiss, summoning hail’ feels. Or maybe my grudge against her is just extra strong, since the nagging sense of danger in the back of my mind is telling me trying to cast a spell against her like I’ve taken to doing when people bother me is a bad idea. I need an outlet for my petty discontent after all.

“How is that anyway? I’ve been meaning to read it.” Mainly because I think the old-fashioned woodcuts are kind of cool looking. Not anywhere near Durer levels, but they have their own rustic charm.

Sandra shrugged. “Honestly a let-down. it’s sound from the understanding of the world and the theology at the time. Despite the illustrations, it’s arguing against the extreme views in the Malleus Maleficarum. But clearly since we can make magic work we’ve kind of disproved the major premise of the book just by existing.”

“True. Speaking of magic, we probably should get going. The main reason for dragging you down here today is for an evaluation.” I moved to grab the gun cases pre-staged in the foyer.

“I was wondering about that.” Sandra asked. “Is there some sort of standardized measure for magic?” The glint in her eyes showed that at heart, despite the weird supernatural subject at hand, she was a scientist, eager for figures and numbers to crunch.

“Don’t worry about it.” It was my job to worry, especially since I had no idea what I was going to do.