8. Coffee, Cream, and Supernatural Muffins
8
Coffee, Cream, and Supernatural Muffins
“What smells?” Ellie said quizzically.
“Bo says there’s a vampire and a werewolf inside.”
Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Where?” She scanned the interior of the coffee shop eagerly.
“One of the baristas and dreadlocks by the window.”
Ellie started looking like a kid of Christmas Day.
Bo fidgeted. “This is a bad idea. We can’t let Ellie in there. She’ll probably ask the vampire to bite her.”
I pursed my lips. My dog had a point.
The bell above the café door jangled, distracting us.
I sighed. “Too late.”
“Oh wow! You should see their muffins!” my best friend said excitedly from where she’d already stepped inside the door.
I looked at Bo. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“That’s what you thought when you brought the werewolf into our apartment last night,” he said solemnly.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about my dog giving me sass.
“By the way, aren’t vampires supposed to be permanently allergic to daylight?” I asked as we headed for the door.
“They’re allergic to sun beds, not daylight. Gives them a nasty rash.”
I made a face. “So my entire childhood was a lie?”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you watch on human TV.”
The interior of Bean Me Up was all exposed brick, mismatched furniture, and more macramé. Crystals hung in the windows, casting rainbow patterns across recycled wood tables. The air smelled of coffee, incense, and something distinctly otherworldly.
“That’s our vampire,” Bo whispered as we joined the queue. He twitched his ears at one of the baristas. “He’s not breathing. I mean, he’s pretending to, but he’s not. The girl next to him is a witch.”
I studied the pale young man behind the counter. He had multiple piercings and a T-shirt that read Peace, Love, and Hemoglobin. The witch was wearing a top emblazoned with the words Sticks Rule.
I could feel a cool but subtle divide between the two supernatural camps.
“Do witches and vampires not get along?” I asked Bo in a low voice.
I realized my dog was staring at a couple by the window.
“What is it?” I said warily.
“I think they’re ghouls,” Bo said hesitantly. “The brain muffins are a dead giveaway.”
I stared at the loved-up pair flirting and sharing heated glances. The baked goods they were consuming looked suspiciously pink and gooey.
“They can’t be real brains, right?” I asked leadenly.
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t order the house special if I were you,” Bo advised.
“This is so cool,” Ellie enthused in a voice that could probably be heard in the next county. “Do you think they have supernatural drinks?”
I was about to tell her not to be silly when someone ahead in the queue ordered a Blood Orange Mocha, type O negative. My gaze found the menu board. It contained a list of beverages and food items with worrying names.
We reached the counter. The vampire barista’s name tag read Virgil.
“Welcome to Bean Me Up,” he said with a cheerful smile. “Today’s special is our Moonshine Latte with extra hair of wolf.”
I stared at his sparkling canines. “Just a regular coffee and a doughnut. Black, two sugars.”
Ellie beamed. “I’ll have a Witch’s Brew Chai and a chocolate éclair.”
Virgil flushed a little. I could tell Ellie was going to be popular in the supernatural world too. The barista’s nostrils suddenly flared. He looked at me more carefully, his smile fading.
“You’re newly turned,” he said quietly.
Surprise shot through me. “How can you tell?”
Ellie was too busy examining pastries to hear our conversation.
Virgil’s expression turned sympathetic. “You haven’t learned how to mask your scent yet. You smell like stress and rage.”
I died a little inside.
“Anything for the doggie?” Virgil asked with a friendly glance at Bo. “He can have a muffin, on the house.”
Bo’s tail thumped the floor. “Thanks, bro.”
“No problem.”
I blinked. “I, er, thought you’d be more surprised by the talking dog.”
Virgil and the witch gave me strange looks.
“Most supernatural creatures can communicate with familiars.” Virgil reached under the counter and produced what looked like a perfectly normal blueberry muffin. “Don’t worry, no brains in this one.”
Bo’s tail wagging intensified.
I made a face. “He’s not a familiar.”
Virgil startled. “He’s not?”
“No, he’s just a regular dog.”
“I might be part werewolf,” Bo added helpfully around a mouthful of muffin.
“Which part?” the witch asked warily.
I could feel ears pricking around the coffee shop.
Bo became the subject of intense stares. Not that the glutton noticed.
Virgil suddenly leaned in and sniffed me. He stiffened. “Are you with the Hawthornes?”
I hesitated. “Why, do I smell like them too?”
“What’s going on?” Ellie asked. She’d stopped examining the cakes and was looking at us curiously.
“Nothing,” I said. It wasn’t nothing, but I knew instinctively now was not a great time to go into details.
Virgil had almost looked scared for a moment.
The witch snorted. “Yeah, right. A newly turned werewolf belonging to the Hawthorne pack is nothing.” She gave me a warning look. “Watch yourself. That family plays rough.”
“Penny,” Virgil warned in a low voice.
“What?” The witch shrugged. “Someone should warn her.”
My phone chose that moment to buzz. I fished it out while Virgil and Penny prepared our drinks, still digesting the red flags they’d just mentioned.
It was a text from an unknown number.
I’ll pick you up at 8. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. S.
I wondered if it was too early to ask Virgil to pour whiskey into my coffee.
Another text came through.
Bring the dog. He needs to learn pack rules too. S.
“How does he even have my number?” I muttered.
“Who has your number?” Ellie asked, adding a worrying amount of sugar to the Witch’s Brew Chai Penny had just handed her.
“Samuel. Apparently Bo has to come to tonight’s training too.”
Bo’s ears flattened. “I decline.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
Penny was staring at me. “Samuel Hawthorne is texting you?” Her eyes rounded. “Wait. Are you his?—?!”
“Here’s your change,” Virgil cut in smoothly, all but shoving the money at me.
I got the distinct impression he was trying to protect me from something. Or someone.
We found a quiet corner table. The ghoul couple had finished their suspicious muffins and left. Dreadlocks shot glances at us from his seat by the window.
“I don’t understand.” Ellie glanced at the supernatural clientele with a confused look. “Why does everyone get weird when they find out you’re with the Hawthornes?”
“Because the Hawthornes are dangerous,” the peace lily behind Ellie said.
I stared. Now I was hearing plants talk.
Ellie swallowed nervously. “Did that plant just talk?”
“It’s Mrs. Chen,” Bo said distractedly. He was staring at my doughnut and drooling a little.
I pulled my plate closer.
The peace lily leaves parted to reveal our neighbor, sans shears.
Mrs. Chen wrinkled her nose at me. “So that’s what Mimi meant. You went and got yourself bitten by a Hawthorne, didn’t you?”
I grimaced. Since the whole of Amberford’s supernatural community seemed to know what happened last night, there was no point denying it.
“Kinda.”
Mrs. Chen rose and joined us, a cup of ginseng tea and a basket in hand. The basket meowed when she put it on the floor.
Bo sniffed it. A black paw shot out and booped him on the nose.
“Mind your manners, mutt,” Mimi warned as she emerged from the basket.
I gave Mrs. Chen a glassy look. “I can hear your cat talk.”
“Why do I miss out on all the fun?” Ellie whined.
Mrs. Chen ignored her. “That’s normal. You’re a supernatural creature now, so you can communicate with familiars.”
I wondered if Pearl was Victoria’s familiar and put a hard stop to the thought. That was a dark and tortuous road best not traveled.
Ellie was studying Mrs. Chen with growing curiosity.
“How long have you been a witch?”
“Since I was born, so longer than you’ve been alive.”
Ellie missed the sarcasm and brightened.
Mrs. Chen gave her a sharp look. “No, you can’t just become one.”
Ellie visibly deflated.
Mrs. Chen cut her eyes to me. “The Hawthornes are trouble.” She sipped her tea and pretended not to see the perturbed look Ellie, Bo, and I exchanged. “That pack has been in Amberford since the town was founded. Did you know they own half the businesses here?”
“No, I didn’t.” I hesitated before carefully adding, “Is being rich their only crime?”
“It’s not about the money. The rumor mill is rife with stories about them. Strange disappearances. Small mom-and-pop businesses going under.” Mrs. Chen frowned. “Let’s put it this way. No one messes with the Hawthornes. Not if they want to live to see another day.”
My stomach sank.
It appeared I was now a member of a mafia werewolf pack.
Mimi jumped onto the table and fixed me with a piercing stare. “You’re his luna, aren’t you?”
Mrs. Chen spat out her tea.
I frowned at the cat. “How did you know that?”
“You smell different. Not just because you’re newly turned.” Mimi flicked her tail. “You have the same aura as Samuel Hawthorne. Like you’re his mate.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.
Mrs. Chen patted her mouth with a paper napkin. “This is worse than I thought,” she muttered grimly.
Unease coiled through me. I’d never seen my neighbor so uneasy. Not even when she found the college kid in her petunias.
She met my wary gaze. “Abby, you are now the luna of the most influential werewolf pack on the East Coast.”
My mouth went dry. “What?”
“The Hawthornes aren’t just one of the powerful supernatural families in Amberford,” Mrs. Chen explained. “Their reputation and authority reaches far afield.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ellie glanced awkwardly from me to Mrs. Chen.
Our neighbor shook her head. “No. It means Abby now has a lot of enemies. People who will want to use her or hurt her. A luna can be a pack’s strength, just as she can also be its weakness.”
Bo whined and pressed against my leg. Ellie hunched her shoulders.
Heat flushed through my body. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Mrs. Chen watched me for a moment. “No one ever asks to be turned.” She patted my hand. “But fate has a way of putting us exactly where we need to be, whether we like it or not.” She hesitated. “Maybe this was always meant to be.”