These Fractured Bonds (The Izmari Chronicles #1)

1. Chapter 1

Yareli Martinez was haunted.

Nasty and dreary, the wraith clung to her body like a leech, draining her life until at the very end nothing but a husk remained. A rotten way to live—knowing one’s fate—but nothing was done about her ailment, because what tormented Yareli was nothing more than money.

Money, money, money.

There was never enough. Every month was another cycle of payments due. Imagine that, she thought, being beholden to pieces of paper.

Despite her awareness that life was meant to be more than bills, Yareli had little choice in the matter.

She had been born poor and remained poor as a college student.

Through hard work and luck—mostly luck—she had secured a scholarship that covered her tuition, which had allowed her to move out of her parents’ home, but it left her at the mercy of a series of crappy jobs to cover her rent.

It was for this exact reason that she found herself standing in a dingy, narrow alley in terrible need of repaving.

Enchanted Brew’s entrance was nothing more than an inconspicuous door with a small “open” sign hanging on a loose nail.

Even the doorknob looked ancient, its rust indicative of age and wear.

Yareli gripped the doorknob but didn’t twist it, reviewing everything she knew about the cafe: located in an older building, no visible signage, little to no reviews on Maps, and the suspiciously easy interview.

She knew a red flag when she saw one. She let go of the door but hesitated.

Time was running out; rent was due at the end of the month, and it had been her sole job offer.

Besides, she had already done the hard part, the part that would have had her mom signing the cross and shaking her head.

She had sealed the employment contract in blood.

In retrospect, the fact that she hadn’t hesitated was indicative of how desperate she was. She opened the door.

A dark staircase, poorly lit by a single lightbulb swaying from the ceiling, greeted her.

She cursed under her breath; this place was an even bigger red flag than her ex.

She crept down the stairs, goose bumps peppering her skin; the muted silence pressed down on her, and even her breathing seemed too loud.

She reached the bottom, where another wooden door awaited her.

This is the moment in horror movies where you run, she thought.

She swung the door inward, revealing the room—a striking, long space filled with brown accents.

She breathed in, still in awe of the cafe’s sheer beauty.

Like stepping into an enchanted forest, wood was everywhere—from the chairs and tables to the trees sculpted in the walls.

Green leaves hung from the ceiling, woven together to create a canopy.

She stepped forward, parting the mist hanging low on the floor.

Quiet, melodic instrumental music permeated the space.

Only two people were in the cafe—her new manager, Donna, at the counter, and a male customer at a table in the far corner.

The customer drew her attention. A long, pointed hat rested on top of a pinched face.

He squinted as if he needed glasses, and it seemed like his gaze was focused on her.

Definitely shady. She scurried to the counter, greeting Donna.

“Good evening,” she said.

“You’re ten minutes early,” Donna replied, tone flat. A tall, stoic woman with chin-length hair, she was hard to read, and Yareli was unsure whether she had been complimented or chided.

Being early never hurt, right?

Yareli forced a smile. “I can never trust the bus to be on time. I’d rather be here early.”

“Timeliness is appreciated. Follow me.”

Donna disappeared behind a brown kitchen door that melted into the wall.

A short, choppy cough from the customer made Yareli jump.

She chastised herself; she knew better than to judge someone from their appearance, but his stare’s intensity seared her nape, unsettling her, and she rushed to the kitchen.

It was surprisingly modern with sleek stainless-steel appliances and tables.

“You won’t be baking,” Donna said, appearing next to her out of thin air.

Yareli flinched, but quickly recovered, pasting a smile on her lips. She said the first thing that came to mind, “It’s clean.”

Donna’s gaze slid right over her. “Cleanliness is expected. I’ll show you the break room.”

Yareli’s hand trembled as she ran it through her hair. Breathe, she told herself. She hadn’t fucked up yet; she was fine. Straightening, she walked into the break room. It was also awfully normal, with dull, faded yellow wallpaper. A couple of lockers stood on the far wall.

Donna said, “Your locker is on the right. Please place your personal belongings there, but keep your phone on you. We have a team member who suffers from tardiness, and it would do you well to know when he’s running late.

” She opened a closet lined with shelves.

A flickering lightbulb hung from the ceiling, revealing the clothes on the bottom shelves.

“Please pick out your size. There’s a mirror for you to try the uniform on.

Once you do, place your clothes in your locker and meet me at the front. ”

Yareli stepped inside, and Donna paused before closing the door. “And Yareli?”

“Yes?”

“The customer isn’t a regular.”

Heat prickled her cheeks. So Donna had noticed. “I’m sorry.”

Donna smiled for the first time. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

The door clicked shut; Yareli slumped forward, then threw her head back.

Her nerves were at an all-time high. She paced, wringing her hands.

The strange customer wasn’t the only reason why she was shaken; the desire to do well dogged her every step.

She needed this job. If she failed the provisionary period, she’d be back to square one—unemployed without enough zeros in her bank account for rent.

She slapped her cheeks. “Come on, pull yourself together.”

The stifling silence fell from her, melting away as her anxiety calmed, and she found comfort in it.

She pulled out a couple of pieces of clothing, trying on the brown leggings and green tunic shirt first. She found a white sash nearby, tying it around her waist like Donna’s.

Looking in the mirror, she admired how it framed her body and thought that if she lived in a fantasy book, she’d be really cute.

“I could definitely kick ass in this,” she said, throwing a kick in the air. She laughed at her pitiful attempt; she was not a fighter.

Seeing herself in uniform was like taking the pin out of her remaining stress; she spun, picking up the other style—a green, short barmaid dress. She tied the corset around her waist. Oh.

“These are pretty,” she mumbled.

During the interview, Donna had presented their uniforms as some sort of barrier, something she’d hate, but Yareli had taken one look at the photos and knew she’d be fine. Wearing them now, she was glad she was right. She looked hot with a capital “H.”

She slipped on thigh-high socks before the brown boots. Yup. She was definitely not returning the uniform if she quit… or was fired. Her phone buzzed.

Good luck today.

Warmth spread across her chest; her friend, August, had remembered it was her first day.

Thanks! Will tell you all about it tomorrow.

His reply was instantaneous. Perfect.

Her gaze snagged on her reflection one more time. If things work out here, I’ll make the first move, she promised. She deserved to give it a shot, even if she doubted he felt the same. She exhaled. One problem at a time, Reli. She had to get to work.

Donna handed Yareli a clipboard with a list. “Although we are a twenty-four-hour cafe, we have a list of chores that must be completed during every shift to keep our operations smooth. As you’re mostly working our evening shift, you’ll be working alongside Don often.”

Yareli scanned the room, noting the customer had left, but found no one else in the cafe.

Donna said, “Don will be here soon. Do you have any questions about anything?”

Take out the trash, wash dishes, and refill the sugar. All basic things.

“No questions.”

“Perfect.”

The door creaked open, and a tall, brown-haired man carrying large grocery bags strode in. His blue eyes met hers, and a half-smile formed on his lips.

“You must be Yareli,” he said, placing down the bags. “I’m Don, resident baker.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yareli said, shaking his hand. Her gaze slid between him and Donna, noting their similarities.

“We’re twins,” Donna stated.

Don’s grin widened. “You can tell us apart by our hair.”

His friendliness was contagious, and Yareli found herself laughing. He was right; his brown hair was lighter than Donna’s darker shade.

The door slammed open, and a loud voice boomed across the room. “I heard we have a new team member!”

A slightly shorter, blond man walked in. He adjusted the duffel strap across his chest, revealing the college logo on his jacket. Yareli’s eyes widened.

“You go to North College?” she exclaimed.

He winked at her. “You too?”

She nodded, stunned by the rapid development. She hadn’t expected someone from her college to work there.

“Erick, your shift doesn’t start for another six hours,” Donna said, intervening and saving Yareli.

“Geez, Donna. You hate it when I’m late, and the one time I’m early, you’re also unhappy.”

“Because you’re not here to work.”

Don scooted past Donna, grocery bags in hand, and nudged Yareli. “Those two are always bickering, but it’s good-natured. Promise.”

At his expectant look, Yareli followed him into the kitchen, where she helped him put away the groceries.

“Our pastries are popular, but they’re not our biggest attraction,” Don explained as they worked. He handed her a black, air-tight jar. “This is.”

She unscrewed the lid, curious, and was assaulted by a putrid smell. She slammed the lid shut.

“What is that?”

He looked at her, amusement lighting up his eyes, and he laughed. “It’s coffee beans.”

“No coffee beans smell like that.”