“Hey Denise!”

The spectacled redhead swiveled her upper body at the sound of her name.

‘Yeah?” she questioned, her face soft and innocent as she gazed into the smiling grin on Timothy’s face.

“Just coming by to let you know the boss man wants to see you.”

Lines deepened Denise’s face as her expression turned inquisitive, a hint of worry etched into her eyes. 

“Really? What for?” Her voice was timid, as small as her demeanor as she consciously withdrew into herself at the mention of her boss.

Timothy shrugged, leaning arms crossed on the side of her sparsely decorated cubicle. His short brown hair stuck out from his head in a cowlick. 

“Didn’t say. He just said he wanted to see you about something.” The lines on her face deepened further as her expression turned into a scowl. 

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.” She pointed out.

Timothy shrugged again before turning on his heel and heading back towards his workstation evidently not wishing to linger from his own assigned duties any longer.

“I’m just the messenger.”

After Timothy was well gone Denise sat for about a minute, trying to collect her thoughts. She really didn’t want to talk to her boss, mostly on account of him being a jackass. He complained every time she saw him, about every tiny thing she did wrong even when she was doing exactly as she had been asked, and she always made sure to do exactly as she was asked. Leaning back in her chair, head tilted to the sky she closed her eyes and exhaled trying to calm her nerves and preparing herself for what she had to do. 

Finally feeling ready she lowered her head, shaking it from side to side a few times to clear her mind once and for all, pushing her scarlet glasses up the bridge of her nose, a steely determination in her eyes. She stood up from her chair, dusting off her translucent gray dress and began the walk to her boss’ office.

The walk felt longer than it was, every step seeming to lengthen the space between her and that door. She was very much aware of the stares other people were throwing her direction but she tooned them out, only comforted by the clacking sound of her sandals on the hard linoleum. After what had felt like an eternity but she knew to be only the briefest of moments her hand was curling around the knob of the door. Before she could even open the door it occurred to her she better knock first. With her free hand she raised a knuckle to the old wood and rapped thrice. 

“Sir, it’s Lavigne.” Denise called out, her tone dulcet as her mother’s surname rolled over her tongue and out of her lips.

“Enter.” The gruff response was terse and full of what Denise could already tell was irreverent irritation.

She had screwed up again.

Denise entered her boss’ office. It was a simple little box like space. There was a single bookshelf to her right, populated by binders and catalogs. At the far opposite end of the room was a shuttered window, no light coming in through it. Taking up the most space in the room was the large mahogany desk in the shape of an L, a large computer monitor sitting on the curve. On the desk proper were only a few items and papers but the ones immediately facing Denise were smiling family portraits and a golden name tag that read QUINN TAYLOR. Behind the desk was the man himself. A rather large man, both wide and tall, his face covered in dark grey stubble, wearing a black suit and red tie. He sat back, almost reclining in his chair as his eyes followed Denise’s every move. She remembered to shrink back at the gaze, making herself as small as she could muster as her own gaze fell upon four chairs neatly set before the vast desk. She picked the middle one to the left, walking around the row and setting herself down as quiet and light as she could, averting her gaze from her boss’ stare. Almost a full minute of silence passed before he finally spoke.

“Denise, do you know why I called you in today?”

“No sir.” Denise squeaked, before clearing her throat.

“Well then, I’ll be blunt. I received your reports today and they are not to standard. Not only that but it seems you have been shipping out extra packages where none were needed.”

“The people did need them.” Denise mewled. Another moment of silence stretched into infinity. It had been the wrong thing to say.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t believe I told you they needed them. Am I correct? Because if I am it boggles my mind why you think you’d have the authority to go around doing what you want. We have an image to uphold and you are endangering that image with your reckless actions. Do you know how many people work here? How many people that are depending on this job to bring home food to their families? Are you really trying to jeopardize that for everyone?”

Denise slumped in her chair, her mousy demeanor bending underneath the weight of her supervisor’s words.

“I thought we were supposed to help people.” she practically whimpered, her cherry colored glasses sliding down her nose.

Her boss apparently heard this as he seemed to perk up, leaning forward in his chair grasping his fingers together in a tent of digits.

“I’m sorry, do you think you can do this job better? Do you think you’d be better at doing this than any of the people here because let me tell you right now, you have no idea what it takes to run this operation. You probably think that you have all the answers and that if you were in charge everything would run smoothly right? Well let me break that bubble of yours here and now, you know what we in the real world call that? Narcissism. You think you know what’s right but you really don’t. You think you have a clue but you couldn’t possibly know what it takes to keep this place running. I’m not asking you to do what you think is right, I’m asking you to do your job, unless that’s too difficult for you in which case I’d advise you find another place to work.”

He continued on with his verbal tirade but at this point Denise was only half listening. She had fully withdrawn into herself now, recognizing that something in her had snapped. This berating, on top of everything else, every rule change, every private conversation, all the abuse, it had just been too much. Her eyelids had fallen, trying to close as if she could block it all out by not being able to see. Her half lidded gaze had settled on the family portraits that lined the desk in front of her, as if trying to find some place to anchor themselves. Of the various photographed portraits one in particular drew her attention, the smiling face of her boss framed by the happy giggling looks of two bright eyed children, a boy on the right and a girl on the left. Children. His children. Her mind was in a haze now, her mouth almost hanging open. She only barely registered her supervisor’s final directive.

“Now do I make myself clear?” Without looking back up at him she nodded listlessly, completely withdrawn, her mind....elsewhere.

“Good. Now if you need to go get yourself cleaned up, hurry up and be back here in ten. I expect you to be doing your work correctly when you return.”

Denise’s expression was dull as she nodded once more, before standing up and sleepwalking out of the office. Impossibly, the journey back to her cubicle was twice as long as the journey from. Halfway back to her desk, Timothy managed to corner her in the open aisle, concern marking every corner of his face.

“Hey, you doing alright?” he prompted. She raised her head, not truly realizing she’d been staring at her sandalled feet as she shuffled back to her cubicle.

“Was it that bad?” Timothy asked, trying to block her way as he inquired an answer from her. She had forgotten herself. There were still people around. Her face scrunched up in a web of emotion as she sidestepped Timothy. 

“I-I’m fine…” She stammered, as she changed her direction from her intended destination of her desk. 

“Are you sure?” Timothy queried. He was truly concerned for her. It was admirable. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

Denise shook her head, letting a few tears drop from her eyes as she moved in the direction of the women’s washroom. 

“I...just need to...clear my head.” With that last word she rubbed her forearm under her ruby glasses and picked up her speed, concealing her face as she made her way to the new destination.

***

“Denny, Denny, you there?” 

“H-huh, what?”

“I was asking what’s up with you girl. You were staring that eggs benedict to death.” 

Denise blinked a few times realizing the woman sitting across from her was right. Denise’s head was held in the sway of gravity, her gaze fixed unwavering on her untouched breakfast. 

“You don’t seem yourself, Den. Was work that bad?”

Denise’s body undulated away from her friend as she faced the window, one of her hands scratching nervously at her right ear.

“I told you not to call me that. If you’re going to shorten my name, call me Ines.” Denise’s voice was like that of a teetering mouse scampering across a kitchen floor. 

Crystal’s body moved forward, her weight leaning against the wooden table, a soft genuine smile brightening her cheeks.

“Come on ‘nise, are we really friends if we don’t have nicknames for each other?”

From the corner of her eye Denise gave Crystal a cold glare, her arms wrapping around herself in a protective coil. As much as she was annoyed at Crystal’s antics she was more annoyed by the presence of all the people bustling around. There were so many people. People ordering at the counter, waiters moving in between tables delivering steaming cups of cocoa extract whatever was the newest fad. Men and women of various sizes with different bags of all kinds affixed to their person swam up and down the various criss-crossed lanes that made up the cafe.

Denise hated that Crystal liked to meet her here. Being around so many people made her skin crawl. She felt exposed. It was like people could see inside her, and not the way she wanted them too.

Crystal giggled as she leaned back in her chair, withering at Denise’s gaze. “Alright, alright ‘Ines’, if that’s what you want me to call you. It’s not even how your name is spelled but hey, you the boss.” Crystal's eyes sparked at this in a way that made Denise’s heart twitch. She knew what was coming next. “So, you said your boss chewed you out right? You gonna tell me about it?” Denise’s eyes narrowed before she let out an exasperated sigh, partially obscuring her face with a timid hand. She had known this was coming, but she had to do it. And so she recounted the encounter with as much detail as she could to Crystal.

“Damn girl!” Crystal interjected when Denise had finished, taking a slurp from the exotic pink and yellow colored smoothie she had ordered. “He really got on you that hard for helping people?” 

Denise’s face was crestfallen, her sullen expression having sunk her head so her gaze was fixed to her food once more, her arms crossed in her lap, but she managed a single nod.

Crystal scoffed at this, “Jerkass. I swear, why are men in power such douchebags? Sometimes you wish they’d just disappear.” A moment passed before a small grin etched itself onto Crystal’s face as she leaned seductively on the table in Denise’s direction.

“Maybe I could do something about him? Something so that he treats you a bit nicer?”

Denise raised her head, her cheeks flushing as red as her hair as her hands frantically waved in the air in front of her.

“Oh no no no! I don’t want anything bad to happen to him! I just want him….” her gaze fell once more as her hands settled back into her lap. “...to treat me with the respect I deserve, ya’know..”

Crystal smirked as she reclined in her chair, one arm over the headrest.

“If you say so, girl. It’s your life, I’m just watching from the sidelines.”

“Yeah…” Denise absentmindedly began sucking on the straw of her drink, only taking brief sips as she was lost in thought. Crystal didn’t seem to notice as she continued on.

“Anyway, you’ll never guess what Clyde did the other day!”

Denise smiled warmly, her eyes closed seemingly thankful they had changed topics.

“Oh, what has he done this time? Did he wash your whites and pinks together again?”

“Girl it’s so much worse than that!” Crystal blathered on.

*** 

By the time Crystal had finished narrating the story of how Clyde had messed up her grandmother’s jewelry box it was time for the two women to depart. As the two got up to leave, Crystal interjected at Denise.

“Hey, again, about your boss, it’s not a big deal, dude’s just a dick. Don’t let him get to you, ok?” 

Denise gave a small smile, as she hunched over her chair pulling the small jacket she had worn off its back, slipping it around her slim figure getting ready to go.

“Trust me, punks like him, get what’s coming to them.” Crystal winked at Denise who smiled again, her disposition a bit brighter now. 

“Thanks Crystal.” she said in a small voice. Crystal returned this with a grin before reaching for her black sunglasses on the table.

“By the way Den, thanks for the advice,” Crystal bopped her short ebony colored hair with the palm of her hand, making the curls jump and dance at her touch. “Clyde says he likes the black look over the blonde. Says it makes me look like a ‘bad girl’. Crystal giggled at this remark. 

Denise’s smile grew thinner, her eyebrows straightening, “Please, call me Ines.”

Three week and a day later…

Denise sat dutifully at her desk, typing up her latest report. Despite Crystal’s encouragement her boss’ rebuke had been on her mind for quite a while, stewing around, unable to be forgotten. She had decided to go ahead and do what he asked, reformatting her work to fit with all the others. No one got any extra packages. For the last three weeks and change she had been trying to be a model employee. She stopped talking with her fellow coworkers, practically ignored Timothy any time he came up to her cubicle and generally tried to keep her head down.

Her black painted nails clacked away at the keyboard when she noticed that the day was drawing to a close. As everyone packed up their stuff and began clocking out she remained where she was obediently typing out her reports as her fellows filed out the door. Soon, as usual Timothy was at her cubicle, flanked by his friend Tony.

Tony’s trademark bushy mustache covered his upper lip, his slicked back hair, combed over his head, as he held his jacket in one arm, prominently displaying his blazer and black tie.

Timothy meanwhile, was wearing his usual outfit combination, a sweater overtop of a button up white collar shirt, the top button always unfastened. There were two things Denise could always expect, well three; That Timothy’d always show up at her cubicle, he’d be wearing a sweater even in the dead of summer and he always had his top button undone. She wondered why that was. Was it laziness or intentional?

“You know it’s time to go right? I know what the boss says but you don’t have to keep working.” Timothy asked, his voice full of soft kindness. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m almost done with this one. I want to finish it now so I don’t have work tomorrow.”

Timothy looked like he wanted to say more but Tony placed his hand on Timothy’s shoulder, seemingly reminding him of something the two were planning. 

“A-alright, gotcha. Well catch you later Denise.” he said, saluting her as he walked off. She gave him another smile and a quick wave before returning to her work. Within three minutes she was done, but she continued to look busy, continuing to type for those who were still present. Today was Thursday. On Thursdays five people usually stayed after to finish up work. One of them was…

The door to the office at the end of the hall opened, and Quinn stepped out, dressed up and bound for home, a bulky suitcase clutched in his left hand as he strode down the linoleum aisle towards the exit. Denise’s facial expression did not change, not acknowledging that she’d even seen the man as he walked past her cubicle. 

As he entered the elevator, the metal doors closed with a swoop. The little bell dinged signalling the downwards descent of Quinn to the ground floor. Denise sat patiently waiting. After five minutes had elapsed another one of the late bunch began to gather her things. Having finished her due diligence for the day, Monica stood up, bunching the last of her papers in her arms and setting her trajectory for the same place Quinn had just left from. 

Denise hurriedly gathered her own few belongings and headed to the elevator, pressing the button and waiting for it to arrive. Monica waltzed up, trying to contain all of her various papers and personal effects, not having done a good job of organizing them beforehand. 

“Oh, hello Denise, didn’t realize you were working late today too.”

Denise smiled appreciatively in Monica’s direction.

“Yeah, just had a few more papers to type up. Wanted to finish them today instead of later.”

“I understand that.” Monica said with a large sigh. She then seemed to take notice of something.

“That’s a really cute outfit.”

She exclaimed as the doors to the elevator dinged open. 

Denise’s smile widened, “Thank you.” she said. It was the same transparent lace dress and brown undershirt she had worn three weeks ago, complete with the same sandals.

As the two women headed down to the lobby in the elevator they talked up a storm, gabbing about the different clothes and accessories currently on the market. Monica noted to Denise how she had just bought a lavish black dress and matching sun hat. 

“It has this neckline that men will find, positively ravishing.” Monica went on. As they exited the elevator and then the lobby, Denise strode alongside her colleague, exchanging gossip as a mechanical whirring signalled a camera scanning the lobby from the sky. The two women continued chattering on, the click clack of Monica’s heels tapping away at the black and white linoleum. Their conversation carried them outside, further from the office and the parking garage adjacent to it. Once they were a good deal away  down the street away from the building, Denise motioned in the opposite direction of where they were heading.

“Sorry to cut this short but my car is over there.” She said, her face making an apologetic pleading expression. “I had to park over there today.” Monica grinned back at her.

“No problem,” she replied, “Parking out here is cheaper than that dingy garage anyway!” the woman let out a hearty laugh that Denise matched. As the laughter died down Monica waved goodbye. “It was nice to get to talk to you today. We should hang out sometime.”

Denise giggled, “We really should.” She said as she began walking away, making sure to wave back at the retreating form of her coworker. After Monica had turned away and began walking the remaining distance to her vehicle, Denise spun around and did the same. Within about ten to fifteen feet she rounded the brick corner of a warehouse, where she continued her jaunt into the parking lot up to a parked red Corvette with darkened windows. Glancing around quickly until she was satisfied no one was watching her or in the area she tugged on the crimson handle affixed to the door. With the practice of an agile cat, her body folded itself between the crevasse made as soon as the door opened into the driver's seat. Through the darkened windows her eyes darted around in every direction, verifying that she was in fact alone in this parking lot. After about thirty seconds she let out a sigh. The coast was clear. Denise carefully placed her things on the passenger seat of the car before taking another exhale. Now was the time.

In a quick flurry of motions unbroken in speed and with no movement wasted Denise’s finger danced in the air, spinning a marvelous invisible thread as a conductor maintaining an orchestra. The motion ended as a single finger touched her chest, and with barely a space between her parted lips two words snuck out, “Veste Nigra.” Instantly her transparent dress turned a dark shade of obsidian, lengthening to her legs as well as opening a v shaped part in the top showing off her prodigious cleavage. Her cherry colored spectacles darkened, both on the frames and the lens. A black hat brimmed itself into existence above her head, coming to rest delicately upon her scarlet locks, which themselves were darkening in color, until they too matched her dress and hat. When the transformation had completed itself she began a new series of motions, directing her fingers in their next invisible symphony. As the motions came to a conclusion Denise couldn’t help herself as a sinister grin crested her face, her mouth forming the words without missing a beat., “Sigillum Traiciendam Curaret.” Denise snapped her fingers. 

Instantly her body seemed to collapse before disappearing as space folded in on itself. As she folded back into existence she gazed around checking to make sure her location was correct. She appeared to be in some form of subterranean garage.  She smiled before turning to a pillar behind her where a rune glowed a dull luminescent white on the rough stone. She swiped her hand in its general direction causing the rune to disappear. It had served its purpose. She could afford to leave no evidence.

No sooner had she turned from the pillar then lights appeared coming around a corner further below her. Denise gritted her teeth. That damned Monica had almost cost her with frivolous chit chat. No matter, she was here now, all she needed to do was confirm. As the lights got brighter they rounded the corner and Denise’s heart leapt at the familiar sight of a black Porsche. Quinn’s car finally headed home. She smiled as she stepped out in front of it.

She had been careful, she had to be if she wished to carry this out without getting caught. Finding his car had been the hardest part, but once she knew which one was his, the rest had fallen into place. It was only by good fortune that he apparently used this parking garage, one so low underground it had no cameras. But of course he did. There was not much parking above ground for employees near the building and he had the salary to afford to get into this paid lot. The tradeoff was it took a slight while to get this far underground and back out, all the time she needed to get downstairs and to her own car. Placing the Teleportation rune hadn’t been a problem, no magic really was for her. The last piece of the puzzle was to find a time when the rest of the garage would be nearly empty and he would be alone, without witnesses. Since he showed up to work routinely late, well, he had no choice but to park a little lower than all the other cars.

As the car pulled into her view, and began to slow down Denise's lips curled into a smile once more. She stretched her hand out to the car in front of her, fingers splayed palm open. Her body was tingling, electricity pulsing through her veins, running up her skin. Her heart beat furiously in her chest as it anticipated what came next, one of her favorite parts. Her twisted smirk opened, revealing white teeth as her tongue flicked at the roof of her mouth letting go of the words she had longed to speak for three weeks.

“Cito Minuas.”

In an instant the car began to dwindle in size. Quinn probably didn’t even have time to comprehend what was happening as in less than three seconds the car had shrunken to the size of a matchbook car in front of her left sandal. Quinn must have freaked out by this point as Denise from on high witnessed the tiny vehicle surge forward with all it had, swerving violently to avoid her gargantuan toes. Denise rolled her eyes as she lowered herself to the ground, plucking the small car off the ground, it’s tires turning fruitlessly in the air. She inspected the diminished vehicle, making sure she had gotten what she had come for. A squeal of delight escaped her as both happiness and relief flooded her system at the sight of a tiny and absolutely frightened Quinn staring back at her as he clung to the upholstery.

Denise knew it didn’t pay to make mistakes, and though she made sure never to make them it was still prudent to check, just to make sure there had been no mixups. It would not be proper to take home the wrong target after all this planning. It would really sour her mood.

With another glance at the vehicle she recited the next phrase. “Reditus.” With another snap of her fingers, space folded yet again, bending itself backwards until once again she was sitting in the driver’s seat of her Corvette. She quickly gazed around out of the windows. Nobody was around. Denise giggled wickedly her body moving in a spastic spasm of joy, shaking the poor passenger in the small car. With a wide lilting smirk from ear to ear she placed her finger on her chest again and spoke yet another incantation.

“Revertatur.” Like a stain growing out from where her finger had touched the black of her clothes dissolved, transforming back into the clothes she had on, the transformation working its way out from the middle. Soon Denise was dressed as she had been previously and afforded herself another self satisfied grin as she started up her car. The engine roared to life as if fueled by her own excitement. She dislodged her unneeded crimson spectacles into the passenger seat as she brought the teeny tiny car up to her face for inspection. As her colossal brown eye filled the windshield she searched the interior, delighted to find her formerly towering boss in the driver’s seat, apparently knocked unconscious from her joyous fit. 

“Hello, Jackass.” She thundered at him, before depositing the inhabited vehicle carefully in her cupholder. Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was no trace that she had been there and she even had an alibi in Monica. This was a perfect day and it only would get better from here.