Chapter Eleven #2
My phone rests between my cheek and shoulder as I round the corner to Bellamy’s shop.
Her paned window displays books, a cauldron full of crystals, and black leaves framing it.
It’s so her. I glance through the window and find my beautiful mate standing behind her main cauldron stirring to her hearts content.
“Thank you Dad for all your help. I’ve got coffee and some weird cupcakes to deliver this morning to her and it looks like whatever is in her cauldron is not how it’s supposed to be. So I’m going to hop off here and see if I can brighten her day. I love you.”
“Love you too. Don’t forget to call your Mom on Saturday. Otherwise we both won’t hear the end of it.”
Chuckling, I say, “I won’t forget.” Before sliding the phone into my hand and hitting the end button.
I bump open the door to her shop with my foot.
Balancing the coffees and cupcakes like they are prized possessions, I don’t dare dream of taking my hands off them.
I expect it to be silent when I walk in, but I’m greeted with Bellamy glaring at her cauldron as if it personally offended her this morning.
“Good morning, Trouble,” I announce, grinning as I shake her iced coffee as if it alone will bring world peace. “I brought bribes.”
She doesn’t even look up. “Is it if I give you back scratches you will leave me alone for the day? Because unless that coffee means you will be silent for the day, I’m not interested.”
Unfazed, I walk over to her work table and set down the goodies I brought. One of the ghosts peeks out his little ghost head, lets out a squeaky boo, then pops back into the box.
“That little guy is my spirit animal,” Bellamy mutters, finally reaching for the coffee.
I puff out my chest. “His name is Kevin,” I say confidently.
She pauses. “The ghost?”
I nod. “Of course. Kevin the Cupcake Ghost. He’s shy, but he has potential.”
Her lip quivers, just barely, like she’s trying to fight off a smile. Victory.
She looks up to my shoulder, where Sir Hops-A-Lot sits. “I see that you still have the toad. Regretting that wish yet?”
“Actually, besides the silent judgement…”
“It’s not as quiet as you think…” she mumbles.
“…he isn’t so bad. He took a shower this morning, lavender soap and all. Which I have to say was a pretty weird start to my day. I have to give it to Pumpkinridge; you guys keep things interesting. That’s for sure.”
She snorts. “So he lives with you now?”
“I didn’t really get a say in it,” I shrug. “I woke up this morning with him sitting on my chest. He’s kinda been here ever since. Is it normal for them to shower because he looked at me as if it’s a normal occurrence."
Nyx hops onto the counter and using his paw to flick open the lid of the cupcake container, he reaches in and takes one. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like words as the ghost cupcake moans.
Not that I can hear him. That would be insane. Talking foxes?
Bellamy hums in agreement with Nyx as if it’s completely normal. “Yes, but at least he didn’t spill the valerian this time.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you talking to Nyx? Should I be concerned?”
“No more than usual,” she says, sipping her drink with the calm of someone who knows that I should be worried.
Her eyes flick from my Trouble Latte to my shimmery pink hair as a frown spreads across her face. Oh, my sweet little troublemaker. I think she’s realizing that I dig the pranks.
I take a seat across from her, balancing a cupcake on my knee as I smile sweetly back to her. “Are you ready for a day full of partnership, teamwork, and a light bit of toad management?”
She groans. “I’m already regretting not casting the banishment spell over the shop this morning.”
Taking a massive bite out of my cupcake, I try to ignore the “help me” coming from it as I chew. She tries to hide her chuckle by taking a sip of her coffee. I heard it, though she can deny it all she wants.
“You are like an overgrown child.” She points to her nose. “You have icing on your nose.”
I look around. I didn’t grab napkins. Idiot.
Why wouldn’t I grab napkins if I was bringing cupcakes?
A grim look etched her features as she slowly blinked her eyes.
She sighs before she stands and finds a linen napkin.
It’s even adorned with that frilly stuff along the edge like a grandmother would have. It smells like her too.
I swipe the icing off my nose and glance at her over the cupcake. “So…what are you going to teach today?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” The single word dangles between us as my pulse stumbles. I thought we’d made progress, but maybe I was wrong. “But I brought coffee. And cupcakes. Surely that’s earned me a teeny lesson in witchcraft. And look! I didn’t knock over the jar full of frog toes.”
She raises a brow. “You mean the jar of newt spleens.”
“Semantics. The point still stands.”
She sets her coffee down with a clink. “You’re not here to learn anything. Why would a wolf shifter even want to learn witchcraft? Besides, you’re only here because my sister thinks you’re adorable and wants to meddle in my life.”
“I am adorable.”
“Sure and I’m Izora Sinclair.”
“Who?”
She sighs. Nyx snorts. And I’m left confused on what’s happening.
I fold my hands into my lap and cross my ankles. “Fine. I’ll just sit here. Be a good boy. Watch quietly while you stir your mystery potions like the gorgeous, broody witch you are.”
Bellamy doesn’t say a word as she stands and walks over to her cabinet, pulling down ingredients. “You sound like a dog trying to earn a treat.”
“Do I get one?”
“No.”
“Rude.”
Nyx hops onto a bench with a fluffy dog bed lying on top of it.
Oh, so the familiar has a spot here, but I don’t.
I’ll have to see about remedying that. He stretches, yawns, and lays where he can watch the show.
He observed the day's events with the same rapt attention one gives to the best television show they've ever seen.
Bellamy moves around the shop as if she is trying to ignore my presence. But I see her looking out of the corner of her eye, I see the small twitch at the corner of her mouth, and I know that she might be pretending, but I’m winning.
Grabbing the dusty, ancient tome laying next to me, I crack it open and decide if I’m going to sit here being quiet, I might as well learn something.
I dust off the cover and read the title.
Foundational Principles and Theoretical Frameworks of Multi-Generational Binding Agreements: Volume I.
I blink. “This sounds dreadful. Do people actually read these things?”
“Not unless forced to by the elders. One time Elora tried to read it to us because it was ‘required,’ and Nyx fell asleep before she finished reading the summary. I swear I left my body during it.”
“That sounds like a nightmare,” I whisper, my voice filled with dread.
“It can be, but if you die from boredom, I’m not reviving you. You will lay there and dry out only to become a ghost stuck here for the rest of your life.”
“You say that as if I would have a problem being stuck with you for the rest of my life. To me every second I’m in your presence is a blessing, and I cherish all of them. So, the idea of eternal stalking of my leading lady? Best possible outcome.”
She snorts before turning back to her cauldron. Whatever is bubbling inside it smells slightly intriguing, but something about it is off? Almost as if it’s meant to lure someone in, but the smell will not be as sweet to the wrong person?
Cracking open the tome, I flip to the first page only to be greeted with a solid block of text, typed in the typewriter font, without any breaks in the paragraphs. Just one solid sheet of the tiniest font I’ve ever seen. How old is this book?
It’s filled with words like “aforesaid” and clause-dependent variables. I’m powering through the first paragraph as if I have any clue what I’m actually reading. Sir Hops-A-Lot croaks from the arm of the chair, and I could swear it sounded more like a cry for help.
I glance over at him. “What? I’m expanding my mind and learning more about witchcraft?”
He croaks again.
Bellamy turns just enough to raise an eyebrow. “He’s judging you for reading a book that most witches have never read or will ever read.”
I look between them. “Maybe I should be more concerned with the fact that I’m the only one here who can’t understand what he’s saying.”
“Probably,” she says absently, before she turns back to whatever she’s stirring. “You should probably study Toadanese instead of that dry text.”
“Toadanese,” I repeat. “Sorry, Sir Hops-A-Lot, I’ll see if I can find a text about that.”
She freezes, and Nyx lifts his head up from his perch. “You named him?”
“Well, yeah, I couldn’t keep calling him Toad. So clearly he needed a proper name. I think it fits him, and I’m even considering buying him a toad-size necktie.”
Sir Hops-A-Lot lets out a low, drawn-out croak.
Bellamy is staring at me with her mouth slightly ajar, while Nyx is snickering into his bed with a paw over his snout. For a fox, he sure has way too many humanlike behaviors. That isn’t a normal fox at all. He looks at Bellamy, and she nods her head several times.
“Yeah, I agree he is a strange guy.”
“You’re doing it again. Who are you talking to? Nyx? Also, why does he have more human behaviors than fox behaviors? I feel like I’m not part of some inside joke here.”
She doesn’t answer a single question or even pretend she heard me. “Since you don’t speak Toadanese, he said that he absolutely hates the name, and you will never get a necktie around his neck.”
“Well, maybe he should learn to talk to me, and I wouldn’t have to bumble my way through this.”
Bellamy only shakes her head, muttering, “You’re doomed.”
She doesn’t know it, but I caught the slight hook of her lips, the beginning of the smile she tried to hide by turning around quickly.