She twisted the head, and she could feel it lock into place along some grooves on the inner top lip of the shaft. Ordinary and reasonable, she told herself again as she gingerly set it back against the wall.
“Miss Dell?”
Daisy nearly knocked the cane over again as she hopped to her feet and hurried over to Mr Swarz’s office. “Yes, sir?”
He was at his desk, scrawling something into a notebook with his good hand. “I’ve a letter I need you to transcribe into type – I hope my handwriting is clear enough for you. If not, I can–” He broke off as he glanced up at her, his nose wrinkling with such a furious consternation that it nudged the bridge of his glasses up. “Are you quite all right?”
Daisy heard the front door open behind her as he asked this, Angel and Rudolph’s muttering voices echoing across the lobby walls. “Yes, sir, I’m fine.”
Mr Swarz made a soft hmph noise. “You seem a bit jittery this morning. I hope Angel didn’t keep you out too late?”
“Not at all, sir. It was a lovely time, and Angel was wonderful to me.”
Mr Swarz scowled, but it wasn’t quite aimed at Daisy. Angel, who had appeared just behind her in the doorway, stepped into the room and stood at Daisy’s side. “I’m hardly surprised. Angel, don’t tell me you and Rudolph are trying to seduce my new typist?”
Daisy flushed, but Angel, even under weary eyes from last night’s accident, managed to put on a sly grin. “Oh, darling, are you getting jealous?”
Daisy was no longer concerned with the implications of Mr Swarz’s accusation toward Angel when he smirked back at her. “I had enough the first time, thanks.”
A laugh escaped Daisy before she could think better of it. “What?”
Mr Swarz shrugged as though it were no matter. “Angel and her beaus have a history of occasionally taking on a third. She had one a few years back who took a fancy to me. And he was… persuasive.” Angel glanced over at Daisy and winked. “I liked him much better than LaChapelle, certainly. You should have kept him.”
“You could have kept him, if you were so inclined.” Mr Swarz only shrugged again, and they both ignored Daisy’s grin of delighted scandal as Angel shifted her attention to the typist. “Anyway, I wanted to check in on you, after the accident and all. How are you feeling this morning?”
The humor and nostalgia faded from Mr Swarz, taking his uncharacteristically playful smirk with it. “Accident? Miss Dell, you didn’t mention an accident. What happened?”
“On the drive home from the dance hall we were nearly hit by an oncoming truck. I was able to brake fast enough while the truck swerved, and it flipped over before our vehicles could collide.”
“It flipped?” His words were clipped with incredulity.
“Yes. It turned very sharply in trying to avoid us and fell onto its side.”
“Were you hurt?” His question seemed to be directed towards Angel, but he looked to Daisy as soon as he voiced it, so she decided to answer.
“No, I wasn’t. It’s just that sleep was a little unsteady once I got home, but I’ll be fine.”
Mr Swarz stood, bowing his head. “I apologize, Miss Dell. I shouldn’t have made those comments about your night out, earlier. Do you need any accommodation to get you through the day?”
A voice in the back of her head – one that hadn’t quite woken up when she pulled herself out of bed that morning – whispered to her to ask for a half-day, but she shook her head. Work would be uncomplicated enough, she promised herself again. “No, sir, I’m fine.”
“Very well.” He handed her the notebook he had been writing in. “If you would please transcribe this, then, I need to have a word with Miss Agatha about business matters.”
Daisy did as she was told, leaving them to work on typing out the vaguely-worded letter Mr Swarz had drafted for one of his clients. Her employer’s handwriting was, indeed, difficult to decipher at times, but it did not require any complex thinking, and she was through it quickly. That left the rest of the day to tend to the silent lobby phone. She spent the empty time doodling on pads of paper and daydreaming about a new pair of shoes that she’d like to buy with her next paycheck, and occasionally she would glance up only to have her gaze fall upon Mr Swarz’s cane. It was difficult not to dwell on that with little else to occupy her until afternoon came to a close and she made her way home.
The next few days passed slowly as well, and Daisy started bringing a book to work with her. She still came with one or two of her grandmother’s trinkets, mixing them up from day to day. When she woke up one morning to a chilly apartment, she wore the garter that could produce a gentle heat, keeping her legs warm while she sat at her desk. Another day, it was the jade lizard brooch that could consolidate moisture in the air, which she used to water the potted ficus by the front door without moving from her chair. Three days later, she wore her pendant again, expecting that she could levitate pencils and paperclips across the room to amuse herself if she didn’t have enough work.
That was the same morning that, shortly after she arrived and settled in at her desk, the front door slammed open and a dark, broad-shouldered man wearing spectacles stormed in, baring his teeth like he was ready to start a fight. He ignored Daisy entirely as he raged into the lobby, even when she stood to insist he calm down or leave or… something. He made a beeline to Mr Swarz’s office, shouting in a heavily accented snarl, “Swarz! My money!”
Just as an impulse nearly pushed Daisy to chase after the man and try to drag him out of Mr Swarz’s office, another man appeared at the door, ducking and turning sidewise to fit through it. He was an ogre, like the trucker Daisy had met the night of the accident, and he dressed in plain overalls and had a floppy newsboy hat covering his course yellow mane. Wispy bangs almost concealed the nubby horns on the ridge of his brow. While indiscernible shouting rose from Mr Swarz’s office, the ogre turned to Daisy and bowed his head in the most gentlemanly fashion. “Good morning, miss.” His voice was low but had a sort of musicality to it that reminded Daisy of a small and tender child. His demeanor didn’t do much to ease her alarm over the angrier man, though.
“Um, good morning. Is that–?”
The ogre took off his hat and kneaded it between his heavy hands. “Ah, sorry about Vinnie. There was a mix-up with the checks, and he’s got a little brother and a grandma to take care of. He doesn’t take money matters lightly. I’m Jonas, by the way. Bauer.” He offered one of his giant hands, large enough to wrap entirely around one of Daisy’s thighs. She stepped forward to shake it, even though her own hand couldn’t so much grip his as just sort of settle in the center of his palm.
“I’m Daisy; nice to meet you.” She remembered Frisk mentioning both these men the night at the dance hall. “You work in the warehouse?”
“The ware–?” He jolted, struck with a bolt of either recollection or realization. “Ah, yes, that’s right. You’re Mr Swarz’s new assistant, right?”
The voices raised in Andre’s office interrupted her chance to provide a response. “This matter is for LaChapelle. I don’t know why you keep bringing it to me.”
“That worthless fop is never here at a reasonable hour. By the time he drags his sorry ass in every day, I am already at work in the ’house! I cannot come here to argue over my rightful payment when I am on shift.”
“You could, actually. Have you spoken to Grey about this?” The raging man, Vinnie, appeared in the doorway with Mr Swarz gently steering him out of his office with a hand placed on the small of Vinnie’s back. “I’ll speak to LaChapelle. He’ll straighten the matter out, and you’ll both get accurate paychecks returned to you before the week is done.”
Vinnie didn’t resist Mr Swarz’s dismissal, but he did glance back with a sneer. “This is the third time this has happened. I have a family to feed, and my landlord does not care what clerical issues are occurring at my workplace. You need to fire that damn useless piece of shit.” When he turned away, he noticed Daisy standing there for the first time sin
ce initially storming in. “Oh. Pardon my language, miss.”
Daisy smiled politely, but she wasn’t going to let his apology go without comment. “Oh, sir, I couldn’t give a fuck about any of that.” Jonas chuckled as Vinnie grinned back bashfully, but Mr Swarz didn’t react at all to the joke. He kept his eyes on Daisy with a blank expression, as though he were watching for something. His gaze flickered down to her bronze pendant before he turned again to Vinnie.
“You’ll get your due soon enough. I’ll speak to Grey about the possibility of a small bonus for you both to compensate for the hassle.”
Vinnie shook his head. “I do not want money I did not earn. I want you to hire an accountant that knows how to count.” Jonas, however, did not protest the offer of a potential bonus. “I will be back to hound you again if I do not receive that check by the end of the week.”
“Please do so,” Mr Swarz said, and the warehouse workers left without another word, although Jonas did offer Daisy a goodbye wave. Once they were out the door, Mr Swarz turned his attention to her. “Miss Dell, would you please come into my office for a moment?”
“Of course.” She hoped that he had another transcription project for her to work on – anything to keep her from being bored.
There was no notebook out on his desk when he circled around to sit in it, though. It just had its normal, neatly organized supplies, an empty coffee mug, and that odd little phoenix chicken figurine. Daisy stood before his desk and waited for him to assign her whatever task he had.
But he sat there in silence, examining her still with that watchful look. The way his eyes narrowed was almost accusatory, and she began to feel nervous. Had she done something wrong?
Mr Swarz kept his eyes locked on her as he reached out to the coffee mug and smacked it off the desk.
Instinct took control of Daisy. She had so been proud of herself in activating her pendant’s inlaid powers to catch that sugar bowl a few days before, but forethought in her actions might have served her better in that moment. Her fingers flew up to the necklace, sending a pulse of her own will into it to unlock its power, and she caught the mug with its magic to levitate just an inch off the ground.
Mr Swarz leaned over his desk to examine the results, and in a rush of panic, Daisy let go of the spell, and the mug tumbled the rest of the distance harmlessly. Mr Swarz hummed and leaned back.
“As I suspected.”
Daisy swallowed, creating an echo between her own ears. What did this mean for her? Mr Swarz had known about her magic? While the practice of magic itself wasn’t illegal in Ashland – only mana was – the stigma of it was no minor thing, and she could very well lose her job over it. Or worse, if Mr Swarz saw fit to spread this revelation.
But he only tilted his head, his expression still blank except for the slight crease in his brow, as though this were all some theoretical matter under academic debate. “Angel kept telling me that she couldn’t feel anything, but I suppose I have always been more keen to sensing it. It's like static, or… or a smell, in its way. No matter.” He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the drawers of his desk, removing from it a small glass vial. At first, Daisy thought it was filled with ink – a layer of thick, congealed blue substance clung to its inside walls, and within that swam liquid of a somewhat fresher color. Mr Swarz held out the bottle to Daisy. “Here. I know it was a little thing, but it can still strain the mind to leave it unreplenished even with the smaller spells.”
“I don’t need…” Daisy stared down at the vial. Mana. Where had Mr Swarz obtained such a thing? And why was he so generous with it? She took a step back, wondering if there was still a chance to weasel out of the situation. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The phoenix chicken bobbed as it did when a draft blew through the office, but Daisy was certain the air in the room was still as silence. Mr Swarz glanced over at its movement, too, and reached out to grab it. It continued to wobble in his grip, and he frowned at it before glancing up at Daisy’s pendant.
“I believe I understand.” He slipped the vial of mana back into the drawer and set the bobbing bird in the dead center of his desk. “I was given this as a gift by a colleague with… common interests. As you can imagine, this particular type of kitsch doesn’t really fit my aesthetic tastes. My friend thought I might be more interested in its other properties, though.” The bird had stilled, its painted-on eyes with their crooked pupils staring up at Daisy.
“Enchanted objects are rare enough, so I decided not to pass on it due to its questionable appearance.” He tapped it on the head, and it bobbed once before settling back into motionlessness. “It detects deception.” Daisy recalled it moving about during her interview with Mr Swarz for the job, which had inevitably included a few half-truths on her part. “Useful, to a degree, but I’ve always been more interested in how such a creation came to be. Artifacts like this do not drain mental energies the way methodic spells do – it would be quite the discovery for the field of magic study.”
Daisy swallowed, glancing over her shoulder as she wondered how he could be so open about such things.
He noticed her discomfort. “You don’t need to fret, Miss Dell. I am not the only magician employed here.”
She turned back to him, eyeing the phoenix chicken. It didn’t move. “How did you know? About me?”
“As I said, I could feel the shifts in reality when you used your spells. Your artifacts’ spells, I suppose. How many of those do you possess?”
She wasn’t interested in explaining herself to him, not with what he had just revealed to her. “Did you know when you hired me? Is this…?” She glanced at the shelves of binders and paperwork behind him. What was the purpose of filling a company with magicians as employees? And what did “document management” even mean?
She was going into a panic over this information her boss was imparting to her, but Mr Swarz remained calm where he sat, spreading his hands casually as he answered. “I did not know, no. Some part of me hoped, considering what you told me of your education. A women’s college is far more likely to teach a less sanitized version of history, I feel, and you did a successful job of making a first impression as a clever and inquisitive individual. I assumed you would, if nothing else, be the sort of person who did not pass moral judgments on magic and acknowledged its uses and past contributions to society. I’m pleased to find to what degree that proved to be true.”
Through all her worry about having herself found out – and her alarm at finding out about Mr Swarz’s own dealings with magic – she was struck with indignation. “All due respect, sir, you don’t know me or my relationship with magic.”
He sat back, looking surprised for the first time all morning. “But you do practice magic. And that’s really what I was looking for – someone with familiarity of the product and culture aside from mana addicts. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have an actual magician in my employ.”
“Mana addicts? Why would…?” Daisy stopped, glancing down at the drawer where Mr Swarz had tucked away the vial. “What does this company do?”
Her employer folded his hands on the desk, his shoulders slumping. His calm shifted abruptly to weariness. “I do apologize, Miss Dell. In the past, we’ve hired trusted acquaintances of those already within the company. You are the first untested hire we’ve had in my entire time here, and my own boss was reluctant to allow me to try it. The secrecy was necessary until we were sure you could be trusted–”
“And what makes you sure that I can be?” A flicker of rage tore through her. She expected a certain amount of being pushed around as an entry-level employee, but not so much that her employers would lie to her about the very nature of the company she worked for. “What makes you think I won’t tell someone about what you’re keeping in your desk?”
The threat didn’t faze him. “Because I know your secret, too. Furthermore, this entire company is a valued establishment in an industry that has methods for dealing w
ith… breaches to confidentiality. I might go to prison if you tattled, but your fate would be worse.” He stood, and that rage flashing through her blood turned to a chill. “But, please – I have no desire to ruin our amicable business relationship. I understand that this is all perhaps shocking to you, but I am willing to be open about whatever inquiries you may have.”
“Why share your secrets with me?”
Mr Swarz blinked as though the question confused him. “Because I do trust you. As menial as the tasks you’ve been given are, you show an admirable work ethic, and Angel tells me that you handled yourself with a level head and compassion the night of your auto accident. And I should like to learn more of what you know of magic.” He pointed to the pendant. “I’ve studied methodical magic for years, as has Angel and my supervisor, Grey. Jonas is more of a novice, and Vinnie really only knows aural magic. Our company could stand to expand our understanding of the whole spectrum of the art, and your practice is nearly unknown to us. It was my understanding that few, if any, ritual magicians were able to flee to Ashland during or after the war in Noeyen.”
His final comment was posed like a question, but she wasn’t going to let him derail the conversation into a discussion on recent history. Daisy covered the pendant with her hand in half-aware self-consciousness. “What is this company? What do you really do?” she asked again.
Mr Swarz folded his hands in front of himself, glancing toward the window. The blinds were half-closed and no one could be seen walking in front of the office, but it was clear that Daisy was pushing him to the limits of his comfort zone. He seemed equally aware that Daisy was nearing her own breaking point.
“I understand that this information has put us both in precarious positions. Here is what I propose: if what I’ve told you here makes you so inclined, you are free to walk away from the company. I am the only one who knows definitely of your practice, to the best of my knowledge, and I will keep what I have learned to myself. I will also never again bother you over the matter of sharing knowledge of our craft between each other. You may wash your hands entirely of this conversation we have just had.
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