Bella and the Amulet of Nuzaleft 02

Pt. 2: Mortal Coil

I park in the small lot behind the shop. I'm lucky to have found a job so quickly. I put out resumes the day the big chain bookstore I worked for closed, and that was only a week ago. Malory responded to me that day, interviewed me over the phone the day following, and hired me the day after that. I check my reflection in the mirror one final time before turning off my car. You don't get a second chance at a first impression.

Malory is waiting for me when I walk in the door. She is short, about 5'2, with silver, curly hair down to her shoulders. She is wearing a loose-fitting white silk shirt tucked into a beige dress. Her face is wrinkled, but in a beautiful way. She looks like she could be anywhere between 45 and 70, and she holds herself with a timeless grace. She smiles warmly at me as she notices my entrance.

"You must be Belladonna!" she announces with an Eastern European accent I can't quite place, using my full name. She rushes over to me and shakes my hand. Her grip is surprisingly firm. "I am so happy that you are here! You are my savior."

Malory explains to me that she has been running the store single-handedly for the past three months since her last employee quit and she's been unable to find a replacement until now. She offers me a tour of the shop, which, of course, I accept.

Malory's Biblia Obscuram looks like a library and an arts and crafts store had a child who went to culinary school. The center of the store has a table with small bins of variously labeled crystals. Another nearby shelf has jars with all different kinds of dried herbs. There are a six rows of book shelves labeled with topics including Tarot, Astrology, Hermeticism, Thelema, Wicca, Alchemy, Ritual Magick, Enochian Magic, and, to my surprise, Psychology. The face of Sigmund Freud on the cover of The Interpretation of Dreams haunts me for a moment, but I'm not sure why.

Malory leads me down a set of stairs, beneath a sign labeled "Antiquary," into the basement of the shop. She explains that this is where her oldest and rarest books and artifacts are housed. The floor reminds me of a museum, with dim lighting and glass cases holding single books open to various pages showing bizarre diagrams on thin pages, yellowed with time. Another case holds a wooden box with what looks like a mummified hand arranged next to a candle with dark yellow wax. Malory explains none of the objects to me and encourages me to look around and explore for myself. She simply tells me that if any of the customers are interested in handling or purchasing an object down here, I should come get her first.

After I look over the collection, Malory leads me back upstairs to the register. She fixes me with a serious look and says, "in our interview, you told me that you have no experience with the occult whatsoever. That is why I hired you. From your GPA and the conversation we had, I can tell that you are bright. You study psychology. You have an interest in the mind. Tell me, are you not curious? Do you wish to enter into this world beyond just working the register and see what the mind is truly capable of? I won't force it on you, I only offer it."

I nod and say "I've never really been into this stuff, but I feel like I should have at least a working knowledge of the products we sell. I've got an open mind." In truth, I think that all this magic stuff can be explained through confirmation bias and self-fulfilling prophecy, but I don't want to be rude.

"Good!" Malory exclaims with a clap of her hands. "I will teach you a little of what I know, as long as you are willing to learn. I will not force anything on you. Come find me after your shift. I am so happy that you are here! Have a good first day! "

I thank Malory and take a moment to familiarize myself with the different sections of the store, then take my place at the register. Not many customers come in, which makes sense for a Monday morning. The ones that do come in seem to know their way around the store better than me, moving throughout the store without asking a question. Some of the customers look how I imagined they would; died hair, piercing, the various trappings of the eccentric. Some customers stand out to me because of how normal they look. Business shirts and blouses stand out in the store in much the same way that studded collars and green hair stand out in the corporate world.

At the end of my shift, Malory asks me how things went and I report that things went smoothly. She tells me that she wants me to make my own introduction to witchcraft, according to my will. It takes me a moment to mentally recover from the open use of the word "witchcraft." Malory leads me over to a shelf containing glass jars with little pouches in them. She explains that the pouches contain herbal spell components that act as a focus for the spell written on the glass jar. She instructs me to pick the one that stands out to me, and then turns around, explaining that my choice should be private. She says that all I have to do to make the spell work is to focus on the desired outcome and to "pour my intention into the sachet" before placing it under my pillow. With a wink, she tells me that the sachets are single use only; good for business.

I look over the jars and a few catch my attention. "Perfect Sleep," "Hyper Study," and one labeled "$$$" all seem useful for a college student. Then two things happen simultaneously: another jar catches my eye and my scientific mind devises a perfect experiment.

In a double-blind study, both the researcher and the subject are unaware which treatment the subject receives, or if the subject receives a placebo. I decide that my roommate, Claire, would make a perfect subject for experimentation. I ask Malory if I could actually take two, and she agrees with a slight chuckle. As long as I pick two different 'spells' and don't know which one I use on Claire, and as long as she doesn't know about the experiment at all, any change I observe in accordance with the 'spell' should be attributed to the 'spell, itself.

I pick out a sachet from the jar labeled "Vivid Dreams" and another labeled "Mind-Blowing Sex." I fail to suppress a grin as I begin to mentally sketch out the details of my experiment.