It was never good when witches came into my shop. Most of them didn't like me, at least the ones with power. The woman sitting on the battered wooden bench was very powerful. She had long, curly red hair and wore a black power suit with a powder blue blouse that made her look as if she would fit better in a business meeting than in a new age bookstore. She looked up at me with mismatched eyes - one brown, one a pale blue that matched her shirt - that were hidden behind black-framed glasses. She smiled at me. I paled.
"Henri, are you okay?"
I tore my gaze away to look at my part-timer, Allison. She was giving me one of those worried looks she reserved for when she thought I was overworking myself.
I nodded and immediately turned to look back at the witch. My time working at PCU had me quite aware of exactly who the woman was. I had seen glimpses of her in photos and on scenes, though this was the first time I would actually meet her. What was she doing in my shop?
Allison sighed. "Well, that's your next customer. She didn't have an appointment, but insisted you would be willing to see her."
"I don't think I really have a choice in the matter," I mumbled.