“I’m excited,” Ari said.
I knew Ari well enough to know her smile was forced, and her enthusiasm even more so. She glanced through the papers again. “Is there anything that could disqualify us from buying in?”
“If you’re not eighteen, then you can’t agree to the terms, and if you’re in poor health, I don’t usually accept you. You must be witchblood to sell the oils.” Here, Sheryl’s smile slipped a little and I recognized the trick of speaking quickly to rush something through, under the radar.
I picked up the paper again and skimmed through it. There had to be something in the contract to explain her sudden furtiveness. Then, I saw it. A block of fine print, near the bottom. The print was so small that I couldn’t even read it. I wanted to ask Sheryl what it said because an alarm bell was ringing loud and fast, but I didn’t want to alert her.
Sheryl suddenly played right into my needs. “May I visit your restroom?”
I nodded. “Ari, do you mind showing her where it is?”
Ari glanced at me, then smoothly stood and led Sheryl around the corner. The moment they were out of sight, I whipped out my phone and took a couple pictures of the page. Then, I expanded those pictures, reading the final paragraph:
Every representative of Majikoil will present themselves at their upline’s office during onboarding, where they will donate magical energy according to the official rules and regulations. The energy drawn off the team member will never exceed fifteen percent (15%) of that member’s life energy. Fifty percent (50%) of the donation will go to the founder of Majikoil, Sheryl Brown. Fifty percent (50%) will belong to the recruiter in the form of life-energy potions to be used as they like. If a new recruit refuses to donate, then they will be removed from their franchise, and no fees will be refundable.
I stared at the paragraph, then as Ari returned, I motioned for her to join me. She leaned close.
“What is it?”
“Not now. We’ll tell her we’ll contact her later about joining. Don’t sign anything except your credit card receipt to buy the oils.” I set the papers back down and donned a wide smile as Sheryl returned to the table.
“Well, have you had some time to think about joining? I know you’d make wonderful team members. You’ve made me feel so at home!” Her cheer was too bright, her smile too wide, and it occurred to me that the added bounce in her step probably came from the energy she had drained off her other recruits.
“How many representatives does Majikoil have?” I gave her a little shrug. “I imagine you’re incredibly successful.”
“Well, I can always use more team members. But I have over two hundred sales reps so far. I anticipate the company growing by leaps and bounds over the next few years.” She began replacing her oils in her carrying case. “I plan on offering new products soon—incense, spell kits, things like that. So many opportunities.”
“Do you plan to take Majikoil nationwide?” I asked.
Sheryl snapped the latches on her case shut. “Of course, and we’re on the way. I expect Majikoil to grow dramatically when the Otherkin community realizes we can meet all their magical needs.” She handed us her card. “Let me know when you’re ready to come on board. Even if it’s the middle of the night, text me and I’ll get back to you the next day.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to bother you on Thanksgiving,” Ari said.
Sheryl laughed. “Oh, I work holidays. If someone needs my products, I don’t let my own life get in the way. And wait and see—once you’ve been selling Majikoil for a few months, you’ll be able to give up your day jobs and concentrate full time on the business.”
And with that, we escorted her out. She left, waving and still smiling. The woman’s smile hadn’t faltered once in the entire time she had been here.
As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Ari. “Come in. You won’t believe this.”
A sudden gust of wind blew up and sent a flurry of small branches off the barren trees. One skittered across the top of my car and I winced. Hopefully it wouldn’t leave a scratch on my new Ocelot. We hustled inside as fat raindrops began to pound down on the sidewalk.
Once I shut the door, I motioned for Ari to follow me over to the table. “See that print that’s so small it’s hard to read?”
Ari squinted at it. “What does it say?”
“Look at this.” I handed her my phone.
She expanded the picture, read it, and gasped. “She’s siphoning life energy off of her recruits. And you know, that will continue down through the ranks. So the more you recruit, the more years you gain. If she has two hundred reps…oh my gods, how long is her lifespan now?”
“Say her average witchblood recruit is set to live one hundred and fifty years. Fifteen percent of that’s twenty-two years, give or take a year. She must have added close to four thousand years to her life if she’s already recruited two hundred people.” I shook my head. “But once you reach the bottom tier, where there’s nobody left to recruit, those people…they just lose years off their life. Not only is she raking in money, but she’s an energy vampire. And if you don’t give her the energy, you forfeit all the money you bought in with and get kicked out!”
“Look at the application. If—say I—recruited someone, I’d get 15 percent of the onboarding fees. And it threads on through the downline. But at some point, it’s going to go dry and the people at the bottom of the pyramid get nothing. If you come on board down the line, there’s no way you can make enough money to sustain yourself.”
“What about the life energy?” Ari asked.
“I don’t know if that’s against the Court Magika’s rules. But stealing life energy from people using a business scam? That’s shady as hell.”
“Is that even legal?” Ari asked. “I mean, from the human side of the equation. Can you force someone to give you their energy?”
“Of course not,” I said. “But technically, they can claim they aren’t forcing anybody. Nobody has to buy into the company. It’s like with the vampires—according to the treaties, they must obtain the written consent of their blood donors. And we both know there are so many wannabe bloodwhores that they have no lack for blood donors. Nobody has to agree, but a lot of people will because they love the whole fangbang lifestyle.”
Ari rapped her fingers on the table. “Then you aren’t being forced to give Majikoil your life energy, but the allure of riches and the allure of a longer life is likely to pull in a number of people. Especially if someone’s desperate. Suppose someone has a terminal illness? Theoretically they could gain the extra time they hope for.”
I shrugged. “People are gullible. But if we go undercover, we’ll risk signing a contract that agrees to let her siphon off our life energy. I don’t fancy giving up twenty years of my life to uncover this scheme. We need to talk to Rowan and the Court.”
With that, I straightened the pile of papers that Sheryl had given us and picked up one of the overpriced bottles of oil. “I think it would be a good idea to have these analyzed. Let’s see if they do what they promise.”