Chapter Four
This is why I don’t join committees
Bellamy
Ring…Ring…Ring
Sighing, I sit up in my bed. The deep purple comforter slides off my body as I push my way out of it.
Normally, I wouldn’t be awake before noon on my day off.
I have no idea why Elora is so insistent on putting me in the community events.
She’s the social one of the two of us, while I couldn't care less about what I’m missing.
My phone vibrates in my hand as I pad my way across my bedroom into my ensuite bathroom. Sigh. Lifting my phone up, speaking of the evil twin. Clicking the answer button, Elora’s face fills my screen.
“Good morning,” she sing-songs.
“Morning,” I grumble back.
“Glad to see I didn’t need to come over to drag you out of the bed. The committee is meeting in thirty minutes. Sure you can make it there in time?”
“Yes, Elora. I might not want to do it, but I’m never late. It’s too early for your overly enthusiastic energy. Don’t you have some other poor soul to torture with your bright-as-the-sun-on-a-summer-day vibe?”
Setting the phone down on the counter, I turn on the water. There are only a few things I need this morning before I face the public:
1. Hot towel on the face.
2. Largest coffee possible with extra espresso.
3. One of the best orange and cranberry scones from Hex & Harken Cafe.
Otherwise, people might actually believe the rumors about how I’m the evil twin that everyone should fear. Probably still accurate on that one, though.
Elora is talking a mile a minute about all the things happening during Samhain and I’ve not caught a word of what she’s been saying. Too busy enjoying the warm towel wrapped around my face to listen. Honestly, most days, Elora just likes to chat at me, not necessarily to me.
When I pulled the towel off my face, I noticed my sister had pulled out her notebook.
That’s never good. If I don’t stop her now, she’ll only keep telling me every single thought that has run through her mind in the last 24 hours.
Including any premonitions she’s had, even if it’s when someone might take a shit.
Literally, nightmare fuel if you ask me.
I’m glad I didn’t get that version of clairvoyance.
No, instead I was gifted with ghosts with unresolved childhood trauma. Joys of being the dark magic twin.
“Elora.”
She continues on, her finger trailing down the page. See what I mean about not really talking to me?
“Elora!”
She cuts off mid-sentence of whatever she was going on about. Blinks her eyes. Then looks back to me.
“Thank you Lucifer. Listen, I’m going to be late if you keep rambling on about your entire list.”
She grabs her phone and it shows “video not available” on my screen, as I’m sure she is checking the time.
“But, you have twenty minutes. It’s not that far of a walk.”
“Yeah, well, if you don’t want the committee to be terrified I might hex them, then I need to go to the cafe for my coffee and scone.”
“Bells, they already fear you will hex them,” she says as she covers her mouth, trying to hide the fact that she’s giggling.
“Fair, but either way, I’m getting off here and heading to grab that stuff before I sit in the room you’ve forced me into.”
“Love you too, Bells,” she says before she hangs up.
I glare at my screen before snatching it from the counter and heading into my closet. What can I put on today that will be cozy, yet spooky?
Grabbing my long, sleeveless black dress, I lean over and grab my deep evergreen cardigan and black ankle boots. There. That will do it.
Nyx is curled up in his fluffy bed by the fireplace, a typical spot you can find him if he isn’t underneath my feet. He barely peeks his eye open as I walk into the living room, grabbing my over-the-shoulder bag.
“Why are you awake so early on a Saturday? I thought it was wrong to disturb people before noon on weekends,” Nyx grumbles as he stretches.
“Yeah, well, Elora volunteered me to help the planning committee for Samhain this year. Something about it being a Grimsbane tradition or…something like that.”
“Fine,” he mumbles as he finishes his stretch. “Looks like we have to go out and socialize.”
We have only been outside for a few minutes and I already want to turn around. It’s too bright and the damn crows are already gossiping.
“Why is the evil twin out so early on a Saturday?”
Caw! “Should we be worried that the world is ending?”
“Someone is going to get hexed today—beware!”
I glare at them as they sit on the streetlight across the street from me. I’ve not even had my coffee yet and they are already talking their shit.
It’s a short walk from my house in coven territory to the downtown shops.
The luxury, I suppose, of living in a small community.
Each magical group has their own section of housing that backs the main shop area.
While they each have some shops in their own areas, these central shops are open to everyone, no matter what species you are.
Hex & Harken Cafe is my stomping ground if I’m not at my shop, Curios & Curses, or home with my grimoires.
The thing about the cafe is that they not only have the best scones in town, at least in my opinion.
But, they have live music that can give you a pretty relaxing environment.
Don’t tell anyone, but it’s one of my favorite things in life—listening to people pour their souls into the musical notes filling the air.
Oftentimes I can watch as their aura will melt from a deep red to a mustard yellow.
Telling me they were able to let go of whatever was weighing on their soul.
Myrtle, the elder faerie who owns the cafe, greets me as soon as I open the glass door into her shop.
The soft jazz tunes are playing in the background as the scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and baked goods wraps around me.
Her glass display cases feature an array of baked goods, from scones to muffins to entire pies, if that is what you are looking for.
“Your usual again today?” Her warm, aged voice always seems to caress my soul. Even if it’s blackened and cold, as most people think it is.
“Yeah.” I look around the case for my orange and cranberry scone. “I don’t see my scone. Did you sell out already?”
She ducks her head a little as she winces.
“I’m sorry Bellamy, I’m afraid I sold the last one earlier.”
My nostrils flare. I’ll just add this to the list of reasons I don’t do mornings especially on Saturdays. “That’s fine Myrtle. I’ll just take my coffee then,” I grumble as I hand over my card to her.
It doesn’t take her long to make my Hot Apple Cinnamon Machiatto. She makes the absolute best drinks I’ve ever had. Not that I really have anything to compare it to since I’ve never lived anywhere else.
Grabbing my coffee, I head out the door to the committee meeting being held at our town hall.
It’s not much of a town hall, just a building central to all the different groups living here.
Call it the safe zone if you will, but the building was built as a place that different species could meet without entering into the others’ territories.
From what I hear, when the town was first founded, we didn’t live as civilly as we do now.
It doesn’t take me long to walk down the street to the town hall. The streets are bustling with activity. Every business is gearing up for the day with window displays being refreshed, sidewalks swept, and doors propped open for customers.
The stone steps leading to the entrance of the building are teeming with gourds, flowers, and a few stray leaves that haven’t been swept away yet.
Climbing the three massive steps, I push open the wide wooden door into the foyer lined with generational photos.
Going back as far as the founding of our town all the way up to the most recent years.
The faint chatter from the main meeting room drifts through the air as my boot heels click against the wood floors. Seems I’m the last person to show up and I’m actually on time. Damn people who like mornings.
Turning right when I reach the main room, I walk through the open door leading into one of the larger meeting rooms only to find him.
He’s mid bite of a scone when my eyes find him. Is that…? My eyes flick down to the ceramic plate sitting on the table in front of him. Roaming over the beautifully delicious baked good sitting half eaten in front of him, I realize one thing.
Miles is the reason I don’t have my cranberry orange scone this morning. He’s robbed me of the deliciousness and one joy that I have with being up this early, especially on a Saturday.
Everyone quiets down when they realize that I’m standing there, staring at the offending man. Glaring at him as he licks his fingers, oblivious to the fact that I am silently thinking of at least a dozen ways I can hex him before he even finishes swallowing that last bite.
He slowly turns to look at me, scanning from my face down to my clenched hands by my side. His audible gulp is loud enough for everyone to flick their eyes to him and then back to me.
“Morning Trouble,” he says with an overbright, fanatic shine to his eyes.
This man really has no idea who he is messing with. Has he not seen how people cower in front of me or how nobody is speaking because they are pretty sure they are about to witness his first hex? Or so they think…
“Is that the cranberry orange scone from Hex & Harken Cafe?”
Everyone sucks in a breath, even they know how much I love that scone. Which is odd to say the least. I didn’t think it was that obvious, but small towns, you know.
They look at him, waiting for his response.
Except he doesn’t seem bothered by the attention or the fact that I’m glaring at him.
No, instead he breaks off another piece of the scone, staring at it.
With a slight drool, I watch as he slowly brings the slice to his mouth, his tongue eagerly anticipating the flavor.
He even has the audacity to hum in satisfaction as he chews.