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“None of the above,” said the girl at the counter, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Xavier coughed. Asking for payment was his least favorite part of the job, but it was necessary. Magic had rules, and those rules had teeth. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps you didn’t understand, young miss. We require payment for our services. Now, will that be cash, credit, or memories?”
The girl’s face hardened. The look she gave him was somehow older than she was, wise and sad at the same time. “I don’t have money or memories,” she said softly. “I can give you blood, or—”
“No,” said Xavier firmly. Blood was a dangerous payment to take. If the girl was offering it to him, she was more desperate than she looked. He tried to soften his voice. Softness had never come easily to him. “What’s your name, young lady?”
“Marinette,” said the girl. She didn’t offer a last name.
Xavier studied her, frowning. She couldn’t be older than eighteen or nineteen, but she held herself like a queen. Her clothes looked handmade, but they hadn’t been washed or patched in a long time. And she was desperate enough to offer up blood in exchange for an enchanted mirror, a spool of unicorn hair, and a few other magical odds and ends. Xavier had been that desperate, once upon a time. It was a memory he’d never contemplated trading away, no matter how much it hurt to keep.
He waved his hand at the little pile on the counter. “This isn’t very expensive. Work three shifts in the shop, and I’ll consider it paid off.” Xavier hesitated. André, ever the cautious one, wouldn’t want him to make this offer. He’d smooth it over later. “And if you’re reasonably useful and need a job, we can talk about extending the arrangement.”
Marinette’s mouth formed a little o. She hadn’t been surprised when Xavier refused to take her blood, but this small kindness had rendered her speechless. His heart ached for her. What hardships had this child endured? It would be cruel of him to ask now. She might feel as if it was her duty to tell her benefactor the truth. Xavier hated having others in his debt. It was all the more reason to add Marinette to the official payroll.
“When shall I start?” she asked at last.
A practical question. She rose still further in Xavier’s esteem.
“Immediately, if you are able,” he answered.
Marinette hesitated, glancing towards the door as if contemplating whether it was safer to run away without her items. She stayed where she was. Desperation was a powerful incentive. With no money and no memories, Xavier wondered whether she had anywhere else to go.
At last, Marinette nodded. “I’m ready.”
Xavier found his spare apron on a hook in the stockroom and gave it to Marinette. She was a quick learner. On their short tour of the shop’s inventory, she asked many insightful questions. She took to operating the cash register quickly as well. Part of Xavier wondered if she’d used one in a past life she could no longer remember, but he didn’t voice the thought. If Marinette wanted to speak about her past, she would bring it up.
As usual, André came in an hour before dawn. His face took on a greyish hue when he saw Marinette wiping down shelves, and he pulled Xavier into the stockroom. “Did you hire her?” he demanded. André always asked obvious questions when he was flustered.
“She was desperate,” said Xavier. He wasn’t sure what to make of his partner’s expression. André looked more afraid than angry.
“I know that,” said André, softening without relaxing. “She was desperate the first time she came in. I should have known she’d come back.”
“The first…” Xavier covered his mouth with his hand. “André, love, did you take that poor girl’s memories?”
“Not me.” There was a raw edge to André’s voice. “You know the rules of magic. She opened the transaction. I had no choice. She gave me almost everything she had. Everything she wouldn’t need for the spell she planned to cast.”
Xavier closed his eyes, leaning against a shelf of crystal balls for support. Dawn was rushing towards them, and with dawn came weakness as his curse caught him in its grip once more.
“I should have told you,” said André. His voice sounded as if it came from the other end of a tunnel.
Xavier pried his eyes open with great effort. “Yes,” he said. “Next time, you will.” He understood, and hated understanding. Operating their shop was wonderful, but the price was taking what you were given. Xavier forced himself to focus. It wasn’t dawn yet. His mind was still his own. “What did she do?” What could possibly have been worth paying so dearly?
André frowned. “She wouldn’t say. When I asked, she claimed she was making a wish.” He shook his head. “I hope it was worth it.”
“It doesn’t matter if it was,” said Xavier, setting his chin. “We’ll help her now, if she allows it. Is your cot still back here? She might not have a place to sleep.”
André didn’t try to argue. Ever since he had pulled Xavier out of the gutter and patched his broken wing, Xavier had tried to help every stray that crossed their doorstep. He had long since accepted it as the price of living with him. “I’ll do what I can for her,” he said, bending to kiss Xavier’s forehead.
Xavier took hold of André’s lapels and pulled him in for a real kiss. Dawn-sickness was taking hold of him in earnest now, but he wanted his last moments with his love to be soft. “You’re so good to me.”
“You’re worth it,” said André, pulling away at last. “Every day. Every penny.”
André opened the stockroom window as Xavier’s transformation washed over him. A scrawny pigeon flew out into the dawn air.
When Xavier returned to the shop at dusk, he found a young girl with dark hair asleep on a cot in the stockroom. He smiled. Whether he admitted it or not, André was just as fond of strays as Xavier was. Besides, this saved them the trouble of putting up “help wanted” ads.