Page 17 of Shift of Morals
Caroline’s office was on the third floor, a small space with a decorative wood sign that read, “Caroline Merritt Weddings.” Her office hours were posted on another more sedate sign to the right of the door, along with another note that said walk-ins were welcome.
Good thing because we went in, regardless. The waiting area looked straight out of an interior design magazine, everything situated just so to produce a farmhouse chic vibe, but I felt nothing. Even though it looked appealing and like it cost a lot of money, every product here was made or produced in another land, most of it plastic or mass produced.
Even the furniture was particle board or that new “lumber” that had always puzzled me—poly lumber, I think it was called.Made from a mix of recycled plastic and wood fiber, the material was resistant to weather and wear but possessed zero soul. Whatever life the wood had once possessed had slowly drowned under the tight grip of the plastic encasing it. A faint chemical smell tingled my nose as I walked up to the reception area.
A woman who resembled the lifeless poly lumber greeted me. She was slim and possessed the same nose I’d seen across every influencer’s social media channel showing up on my algorithm. Puffed lips courtesy of a local beautician witch (or so she called herself), and the kind of brows that looked frightening when you got too close framed a face with too much cheek filler and a heavy layer of foundation and bronzer.
My magic always itched when I ventured too close to a human like this. I never pitied humans if I could help it. They lived their lives like a burning star, knowing they were close to death and embracing every second they could. But when someone messed with nature and injected substances into their face, my fingers itched to reach for them and extract every bit.
Not because I judged them for it, but because when those humans closed their eyes for the last time and someone they loved put them into the ground, those substances would leak into the ground, poisoning our water systems and earth with toxic chemicals.
This was an odd quirk of my magic, and something I never mentioned to anyone, but with the explosion of social media and corporations continued advertisements preying on women’s insecurities and ridiculous societal expectations, the amount of people who had procedures like this had skyrocketed over the last several years.
I don’t think I could survive in Los Angeles or New York.
The woman’s brow barely crinkled. Magic sparked at my fingertips, itching to pull out that neurotoxin and dissolve it harmlessly into the atmosphere. As body pollutants went,that one metabolized inside the body and was technically a natural substance—specifically a bacterium called Clostridium botulinum. “May I help you?”
I realized I’d been staring at her for way longer than was polite. “Yes. Sorry. I’m here to see Caroline Merritt.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. But she’ll want to see me. My name is Evie Quinn.”
Her eyes said,we’ll see about that, but the woman reached for her phone and pressed a button.
You okay? Moira mouthed.
I nodded, realizing she’d seen me acting weird. It’d been a while since Caroline and I had spoken. I could only hope she stayed off the procedure train.
And honestly, don’t even get me started about the funeral business and their blatant disregard for the environment. Decomposing bodies trashed the environment. Humans were filled with microplastics and heavy metals, all of it leeching into the earth, but throw in conventional burial practices and how they affected the earth while funeral homes lined their pockets…well, if things didn’t change soon, we were all screwed.
The women made some affirmative noises, then hung up the phone. “Go right in, Miss Quinn.”
Ash and Moira rose to follow. We entered a lavishly decorated office with a large tinted window allowing filtered light to come in. Caroline sat in an executive leather chair behind a burnished cherrywood desk, a credenza littered with awards and trophies behind her.
She wore a lavender suit with gold jewelry at her throat and ears. Her makeup was perfectly applied and…there it was.
Lip filler and Botox.
I stifled a sigh and squashed my rebelling magic, offering her a friendly smile. “Hello, Caroline. Long time, no talk.”
She gave me a blinding white smile and rose from behind the desk to extend a hand with perfectly manicured nails. We shook, the moment our hands met, the feeling of wrongness brushing against my senses.
Her magic didn’t feel the same anymore. I didn’t react and resisted the urge to wipe my hand against my thigh to rub the feeling away.
“What a surprise!” Her gaze landed on Moira and flicked to Ash, a subtle appreciative curve to her lips as her eyes raked over him. “I didn’t realize you had a dryad on your team.”
Ash didn’t usually go out with us, but he’d loosened up over the years.
“This is Ash and Moira.”
Caroline didn’t shake their hands, instead inclining her head regally. She perched on the edge of her desk, her bare, shiny legs crossed demurely.
Her office had the same false feel as the outside, though her desk and credenza were made of real wood. The stain and polyurethane coating had diminished the wood’s natural energy, but I could breathe easier in here. Somewhat.
A glass and chrome table topped with a wooden vase filled with white roses sat by the window, wedding magazines scattered purposely across the surface. There was a seating area at the back of the opposite wall, a long, emerald green couch with a matching loveseat on the other side. A glass table separated them, the centerpiece another hastily put together wedding bouquet.
I hated it here.
