CHAPTER FIVE #2
For some reason, Nyssa thought of the place from the dream she’d had after Liora’s tour of Nighthaven.
A place that, although she hadn’t been able to see it, had felt as warm and comforting as her grandmother’s tight embraces.
All Nyssa had been able to produce lately were failures; could she really create a place like that?
‘I don’t know, Li, I’m—’
Nyssa was cut off by the thud of a box falling to the floor. Nyx stood innocently beside the pile of enchanted board games Nyssa hadn’t been able to bring herself to get rid of, her green eyes wide as she peered down at the game she had undoubtedly knocked to the ground.
Familiars.
A new vision took root in Nyssa’s mind at the sight of her favourite game.
Of the games from her childhood sprawled out on wooden tables surrounded by plush sofas, each occupied by the same joyful and kind people who had attended Liora’s performance the night before.
The feeling Nyssa had gotten – that intoxicating mix of pure contentment and belonging – could be something she felt every day.
Nyssa should have dismissed the thought. Should have let it remain a whimsical fantasy locked up tight in her heart. And yet …
‘Okay,’ she said to Liora, excitement buzzing underneath her skin, ‘I’ll think about it.’
Nyssa did more than think about it.
She spent three days so consumed with the idea that she was unable to focus on much else, and after waking on the fourth morning to no further news from the coven, she flew into town and strode directly into Just One More Cup.
Gwen was behind the small, wooden counter, a pestle and mortar before her. She smiled at the sight of Nyssa, a bright, infectious thing that only made Nyssa feel better about her decision.
‘Good morning! Here for some more tea already?’ Gwen asked.
‘Actually, I’m here about something else.
I’ve been considering putting an offer in on the old quill store and opening up a board-game café, and, well, I’d really like to serve some of my grandma’s tea blends there.
I found a bunch of her old recipes, and given how much she inspired you, I was thinking …
maybe you could start selling some of her blends here, and we could serve them at the café alongside your own blends. ’
Gwen’s brows had raised comically high as Nyssa was speaking, and when she didn’t reply, Nyssa felt suddenly nervous. ‘It’s just an idea. I completely understand if you don’t want to – you did just meet me, after all.’
‘Are you kidding? Of course I want to!’ Gwen said.
Nyssa let out a small, relieved laugh. ‘Oh, thank goodness! I was worried you’d think I’d been enchanted by the pixies or something. I’ve actually got a meeting with the estate agent to view the place in five minutes, would you like to join me?’
‘Ahhh, Mr Lefton.’ Gwen’s nose wrinkled. ‘I’ll let you handle that one. Here, before you go, let me make you a quick cup of tea. Trust me, you’re going to need it.’
Nyssa thought the teamaker was just teasing her until, five minutes later, she met Mr Lefton outside the vacant building next door.
He was a short, stocky man with a flop of blond hair and a moustache that curled up at the corners, a wooden cane, and a perpetual scowl on his face that made Nyssa instantly wary of him.
‘Ms Hawthorne, is it?’ he said, and even though she was taller than him, she felt as if he was staring down his nose at her.
Still, she plastered on her politest smile and held out her hand to him. ‘Nyssa. It’s nice to meet you.’
He let out a small hmm in response. ‘I take it from your surname that you’re Lisabeth’s granddaughter?’ he asked, and without waiting for a reply he added, ‘I heard a rumour that you left Nighthaven with no plans of returning. What exactly has changed?’
That’s none of your business, you judgy old grump.
‘I just needed a change of scenery.’
Another grunt. ‘Mmm, and I suppose you’re planning on staying this time, given your interest in my property?’ He gestured a hand at the old building. The smallest flash of uncertainty sparked in Nyssa’s gut. Perhaps I am being too hasty …
She thought about telling him to forget it.
That he was right, and she wouldn’t be staying in Nighthaven unless she failed her trials.
But the second her lips parted to do so, a breeze stirred the leaves around the shop door and ruffled the strands of hair she’d left out of her bun.
The smell of old ink and leather, of sherbet-sweet enchantments, was so strong that Nyssa was a child again, staring up at the place with a strange longing she couldn’t explain.
There were some signs a witch couldn’t ignore. And this one was practically neon-bright.
‘I can assure you that if you sell it to me, the building will be in good hands.’
Mr Lefton stared at her a moment longer before letting out what she thought was a satisfied grunt.
‘I’m sure the key is here somewhere …’ he said as he dug around a ridiculously large bag. Nyssa offered her most patient ‘head mage’ smile even as impatience made her want to snatch the bag from him and find the key herself. ‘A-aha, there we are!’
He pulled the key out with a flourish, as if he were one of the charlatan mages back in London and the key a rabbit, and pushed the door with more flair than Nyssa considered necessary.
The door stuck as he opened it, hinges creaking in protest, and when it finally did give way, it was to a dark, musty-smelling space filled with damp boxes and cobweb-covered furnishings.
Something made a small thump noise somewhere in the darkness, and Mr Lefton let out a nervous little laugh.