“Sweetie, I believe this is what they refer to as ‘above your pay grade,’” says Mom after I explain to her the day’s events.
“I am a Rank Two Demonologist,” I whine. Yes, it is most definitely whiny.
“But you aren’t a Justicar,” she says calmly. “And just because you passed the Rank Two trials doesn’t mean you’ve fully assumed the mantle of Rank Two Demonologist.”
“Now what does that mean?”
“Don’t get defensive with me, Nancy Clarice. It just means that you should remember how long it took you to build up your counseling practice after you got your doctorate. A piece of paper confers the title. Not the experience.”
I roll my eyes, and then feel a cold poke from across the Veil right between my shoulder blades. “You’re right. You’re right. Way out of my league, here.”
“Nanna says she’
