The place seems every sort of eccentric to you, but so far all your other options for employment had already been filled by someone more qualified. You need the money, too. Your parents decided that, having recently graduated from college, you no longer needed their help paying your bills. It’s not like you haven’t tried to get jobs before, but the small town you lived in could barely support itself with the economic troubles of recent years. No, this is your last chance to keep yourself financially sound, no matter how strange the place may be.
Stepping inside doesn’t help assuage your unease, however. The first thing you notice is that there are no costumes, unless you count the dark robes hanging on a small coatrack in the corner, or the strange tribal masks decorating the back wall. Next thing to hit you is the smell, a strange mix of scents from the dust, the odd colored bottles and candles on a nearby shelf, and the animals caged up in back. It’s not exactly unpleasant, though, simply different, like being in a foreign country.
“I’ll be right with you,” a woman’s voice says, drawing your attention to the actual people within the shop. There are only a few. One, an old woman, is wearing a large coat made of feathers that makes her look like some sort of owl. She smiles at you when she notices you looking at her, reminding you of an elderly neighbor you had when you were younger, a neighbor you’re sure you remember your parents saying passed away.
She’s not the one who spoke to you, though. The voice you heard was more youthful, clearly belonging to the young woman in back who was busy talking with a middle-aged man dressed in a dark suit. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but they both look pretty serious about it. The woman looks to be about your age, perhaps a few years older. Her hair is naturally red, but about half-way to her shoulders the red stops and becomes black. Dying it like that seems odd to you, but perhaps she just hasn’t had the time to dye the rest of it. Regardless, it doesn’t make her any the less attractive, and if she works here, that would certainly improve your opinion of this job.
Soon enough, the man departs, walking past you and out the door without even a glance. The girl looks flustered, even upset as she glares at his back with one of those looks you’re sure could kill. Still, she rubs her temples a little and puts on a smile, walking over to you. “Welcome to Eve’s Hollow. I haven’t seen you in here before; is there anything I could help you find?”
You shake your head, smiling as politely as you can. “I’m actually here about the job position. I saw you were hiring online.”
She smiles widely, nodding enthusiastically. “Of course, of course! I should’ve known. You don’t know how much of a relief this is. It’s been difficult running this shop on my own, and I was worried that those Harry Potter books had made kids more interested in learning magic at some fancy school rather than good old-fashioned one-on-one apprenticing.” She walks around to the other side of the checkout, searching under the counter for something.
You’re a bit worried about how strictly she’s sticking to this whole “Witch’s Apprentice” thing, but you remind yourself that you don’t have many options. There is one thing you find curious, though. “You run this whole store on your own?” It seems hard to believe with how young she is. “Does that make you Eve?”
“No no,” she replies, coming up with a small stack of papers which she lays in front of you. “Eve was my grandmother. I’m Marisa, Marisa Tanner.”
“David Selim,” you offer, leaning on the counter to get a better look at the papers. It all looks like the standard array of contracts for a new employee.
“Nice to meet you, David. I don’t think we’ll have any issues, but I’d still like to ask you a few questions. For starters, what sorts of magic have you dabbled in?” Not even a smirk as she says this. Could she be serious?
You hope not, but you’d better just play along. “I’m afraid I don’t have any magic. I was hoping that, uh… I could learn on the job.” You’re not sure you sounded entirely convincing, but at least you’re trying. It wasn’t like you needed to convince her you believed it, only that you were willing to go along with it.
She seems quite surprised, though, looking up at you with a frown. “You’re a non? That… makes things more difficult.” Biting her lower lip, she glances around at the store. “I could really use an apprentice, though. So… How would you feel if I gave you some of my magic? I can’t guarantee what will happen, since magic like that tends to come at a price.”
Raising an eyebrow, you wonder how long she’s had to do this that she can say stuff like that with a straight face. “You can’t just… teach me the magic or whatever? I have the time to study a couple of books in my off time.”
Marisa shakes her head. “Haven’t done your research very well, have you. I hate to take a wannabe like you, but I’m kind of desperate here. Look, a witch’s magic isn’t something that can just be taught. You have to be born with the potential. If you don’t have it, that means I need to give it to you. Are you willing to take that risk?”
You’re getting a bad vibe from this, but magic doesn’t actually exist, so what danger are you really in? Besides, you literally need this job. Still, you hesitate a moment before nodding. “Alright fine. Just tell me what I need to do.”
Several signatures later, with the store closed for the night, you find yourself sitting in an empty back room. It’s been a boring wait, with the shop owner saying she needed to prepare the components of the spell. You’re starting to think that she’s serious about this magic stuff, which means she’s crazy, and that could mean any number of bad things for you.
Soon enough, she emerges, holding a rope and some really old book. She hands you one end of the rope, which to your displeasure is soaked in something you don’t want to identify. She holds onto the other end as she opens the book, starting to read out of it. You can’t tell what language it is, though it seems vaguely Scandinavian. You do think you hear her name and your own a couple times.
When she finishes reading, she closes her eyes, and a moment later you feel a warmth in your hand. It’s not painful but it does feel uncomfortable, and it’s traveling up your arm. You try to let go of the rope, but your body won’t respond. You’re completely immobile as the warmth travels to your chest and spreads out in all directions from there. You feel sick and dizzy, but also excited and even a little aroused. Still, you’d do anything to escape this torment. Was it really magic, or was the rope laced with some sort of poison?
You’re not sure how long you sit there in agony, but the next thing you know Marisa is standing over you. You jump, pushing her away. “Don’t touch me, you bi-” You stop, eyes wide. That wasn’t your voice. You look down at yourself quickly. Your clothes are baggy, but it’s hard to miss the two small bumps pushing your shirt out. “What... What happened to me?” you ask weakly, slipping your hand into your pants to make sure. You feel the smooth skin and hair down, until you reach the edge of a slit, gasping a little and quickly pulling your hand back out, face bright red.
The shop owner smirks lightly. “You’re a girl, what’s it look like happened? Seems that a witch’s magic is more tied to genetics than I thought. When I gave you a bit of my spark, it apparently needed to change you to become more like me.” She holds up a mirror, and it takes you a moment to realize it’s your reflection. You’re definitely a girl, with a lean face and soft eyes. Though your eye color has remained brown, your hair is red like hers, and your face is littered with freckles to match.
For a moment, you don’t say anything, just watching your reflection open and close her mouth uselessly. It looks like magic is real after all, and your life just got ruined by it. “T-Turn me back!” you shout suddenly on the edge of tears.
She shakes her head, and you can see the pity in her eyes. “Sorry, David, it’s not that simple. You’re magic now, and that magic apparently needs you to be female. There’s no way to remove magic from someone. Besides... you knew there were risks here. You wanted to learn magic, right? Seems like a good trade. I’ve been a woman for a long time, and I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”
You look up at her uncertainly, feeling a mix of emotions. Anger, hopelessness, fear, despair. Eventually, one emotion overpowers the others and you...
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