Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
After Forrest dropped off the pocket dimension, we weave through the crowd of shopping creatures, and the air is thick with varied magical signatures and mingling scents. The bell above the door chimes, and we walk into the loveliest café I can imagine.
I look up at the ceiling, and there are branches with big pink blossoms and twinkling lights. I realise the blossoms are real, as I can see the magic. It’s the dryad tree, and I’ve never seen anything like it. The smell of flowers, coffee, and cake makes the atmosphere homely.
I like it. This is great.
There is a massive cake display in the window and a counter with all the different sweet treats. Forrest bounces up. “Hey, Jen.” The blonde girl behind the counter smiles.
“Hey Forrest, how are you doing? Your usual?”
“Yes please. Can I have two and a boring black coffee? And oh, can I have some squirty cream on mine? Kricket, do you like cream?”
“Yeah, cream’s nice.”
“Cream on everything, including the hot chocolates. Oh, and can we have marshmallows and a flake?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do everything, Miss Chocoholic. I’ll get them sorted and bring them to your table.”
“Thank you so much.” Forrest hands over some cash and tells Jen to keep the change.
Then Forrest guides us to the back of the café. An empty table is tucked into the corner beside some bookshelves and the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Forrest sits down with a happy sigh, her back against the shelves. She’s positioned herself to look outside and see everything around her. Owen takes a seat on the opposite side of the table.
“Do you not want anything else, Owen?” I ask him, nodding towards the counter.
He shakes his head. “Thanks for asking, Kricket. The boring black coffee is fine.”
Forrest gives him an oops face. “Oh sorry. I didn’t order you a cake.”
“Notice that, did you? It’s fine.” Owen growls. “You were in a chocolate frenzy. I forgive you.”
Forrest and Owen begin to bicker like children; they’re hilarious, and every second that ticks by, Forrest anxiously bounces more in her seat, her eyes watching Jen’s every move.
I absent-mindedly rub the table with my fingertips, mapping all the dents and scratches.
There’s an old indent. I trace it and realise it’s the letter L.
I turn my head to the side because it’s at an angle—the person who carved it was sitting where Owen is now.
L-I-Z. I trace each letter with my finger and eyes.
Liz. I wonder who she is and if Liz put her name there, or if some spurned lover decided to score her name into the table in a fit of rage. I also wonder if it was a claw or a knife that made the mark.
I don’t know why people do that, damage things. Mum had said when she was a kid, she used to use a compass to write her name on everything. I can’t imagine Mum being young and reckless.
“I’m just going to go to the toilet.” Forrest waves me away.
I get up, weave around the tables, and step into a narrow corridor.
I pass a strange black post box randomly stuck to the wall and walk into the lady’s room.
I don’t need to go to the loo, and I’m glad they’d let me go as I need to check something out.
I miss being independent. I’ve returned to childhood, where someone always told me what to do. It’s hard. I lean against the sink and stare at myself in the mirror.
I look tired.
I check the stalls using the reflection and find they’re all empty, just like I thought. I secretly put up a ward and wash my hands. “You can come out.”
She appears out of nowhere.
There was no scent, no magical signature. This creature was genuinely invisible until she’s standing in front of me, and I’d have never believed it was possible if I hadn’t seen it myself.
Her skin is pale green, and her hair has black roots blending into a dark green. She has wide, large green eyes and cheekbones for days, and her mouth is full and wide. She’s gorgeous.
And dangling from her wrist on a chunky, cheap-looking bracelet are my charms. She’s the charm thief and the reason I came into the bathroom. I felt them. What are the chances of her being here today?
“How did you know I was here? No one has ever detected me before.” Her voice is soft, and her accent is Northern English. She doesn’t sound like she comes from the Faerie realm, and she’s also not an elf.
I’d almost say with her colouring a troll, but trolls are massive and don’t have her level of magic. Her magic signature fits firmly into the do-not-look-at category.
“The charms,” I say, folding my arms and leaning against the sink with my hip. I can act all casual, but I have charms that can knock her on her arse if she tries anything. “You stole my charms.”
“Oh wow.” She touches the bracelet and the charms jingle. Her expression is genuinely horrified. “These are yours?”
“Yes, I made them, and they were stolen from my little brothers three weeks ago.”
“Oh. Are your brothers okay?”
I nod.
“Good. That’s good. Before you try to kill me…
” She holds her hands up. “I didn’t touch your brothers.
I, um, I stole a bag from a nasty group of elven slavers.
Creature trafficking. They caught me in Faerie while I was working and tried to make me into a slave. I got away. When I ran, I took a bag.”
She blinks, and her long lashes sweep down—they’re so long they almost touch her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to take the bag,” she says softly.
“I took it because I was frightened. They’d stolen all my stuff, and I was frightened and so mad.
I grabbed the nearest bag and ran with it.
I didn’t realise until I got home that it had something important inside—your charms.” She gives me an anxious smile.
“I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t purposely steal them, but I have used them, and you won’t believe how much they’ve helped me.
It’s a story, that journey. They have saved my life.
” She lets out a little gasp. “If you made them, does that mean you’re Gary Chappell? ”
I let out a huff of surprise.
“The charms told us their maker’s name,” she continues. “Well, not me, but a friend who is a witch. She said they were very chatty.”
Huh. That’s a new thing, and I glare at the charms. Telling witches our pseudonym, eh? At least they stuck to the story and gave Gary’s name instead of mine. Don’t be giving away all our secrets, I tell them. “Yes, I made them.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Pepper. Oh—” Her eyes widen. “I gave one away, the one shaped like a cat.”
The cat is a grumpy magic reflection charm. It’s one of my favourites. It reflects magic back, so say someone chucks a nasty spell, the cat sends it back to the caster. Great for the charm user, but not so much for the person who attacked.
“He wanted to go with the unicorn, and I had a feeling that it was for the best, but I’m sure Tru will give it back if I ask her. She wasn’t very impressed. Here.” She starts to slide the bracelet off, and I hold my hand out to stop her.
“They’ve saved your life?”
“Yes.”
The charms are happy with her—not that she needs them with all that magic bubbling inside her. “And you stole them from the elves?”
“Yes.”
That makes my week. If the elves still had them, there’s no end of harm they’d be able to do. If I hadn’t found them so soon, I would have had to pull the magic eventually, but now I don’t have to. “Keep them.”
“Really, are you sure?”
“Yes, do you know where the elves are now?” I still have an urge to hunt them down. They stole my treasure. I’m sure Forrest will help.
Pepper smiles sweetly and rubs her forearm. “They put a slavery rune on my arm. I couldn’t in all conscience let them hurt anyone else.”