5. Chapter 5
Yareli read her first fantasy book when she was seven.
The magical door that transported kids to different worlds had been an instant hit.
She had fallen in love with the idea of magic, which, in her mind, made the world a lot more remarkable.
She had seen the world’s darkness, and magic washed the world in a new light.
Maybe life had more to offer. As the years passed, her interest had waned—replaced by drab adulthood—but as she sat across from August, still covered in a gold curtain, her old curiosity flared.
She had so many questions; she didn’t know where to start.
August cleared his throat. “I’m sure this is a shock for you.”
Yareli contemplated this, but she was decidedly not shocked; she shook her head. Then, adding an afterthought, she said, “I’d like to be able to see your face.”
There was a brief silence—she realized this might be a common occurrence with August now, and she wasn’t sure she liked it—before he answered.
“I fear you require an explanation before you see it.”
“Why? Are you scared that I’ll think you’re ugly?
” Yareli thumbed her cup of hot chocolate.
When August didn’t take the bait, a whisper of doubt coursed through her.
Did she really know him as well as she thought?
In fact, what did she know of him? He didn’t let her continue that train of thought, interrupting.
“No, nothing like that. What you’re seeing is our glamor.”
“Glamor?”
August explained, “Glamor hides our appearances to non-magical folk. It hides our homes, our restaurants, our presence. What you see is its residue; your mind is telling you that what you’re seeing has been tampered with.”
Yareli peered at Erick, who sat at a mushroom table a few feet away with his thumb flying over his phone’s screen—doomscrolling, she thought. Since she could still see him, she deduced that Erick hadn’t changed much. It only made her more curious about August’s real appearance.
August continued. “To see my face, I’d have to remove the glamor. In other words, you’d see the world beyond the veil of illusion that has sheltered you thus far.”
The thought should have scared her; it would have frightened anyone else, but she wasn’t just anyone. She was, at heart, a girl with her head in the clouds, and her heart set on the magical man in front of her. Her decision had been made the moment she ran to him.
“Do it.”
“The world will be different,” August said, but his argument fell flat in her ears. She thought he might have actually meant, ‘I will be different.’
She repeated her resolve, and perhaps it had been her tone, or perhaps he had remembered how stubborn she could be, but he didn’t argue again.
Instead, he said, “Close your eyes.”
Yareli did so.
“You might feel a pinch.”
Sure enough, as soon as he said it, a sharp pain hit her, like a band-aid being ripped off.
“You can open your eyes now.” August’s voice was quiet as if he were a defendant awaiting judgment, and Yareli was the judge.
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking at his true appearance.
Gone was his shoulder-length hair, replaced by short hair, and hazel eyes that favored green more than brown stared at her.
His face was more conventionally attractive—a strong, defined jawline, a long, straight nose, and groomed eyebrows.
To her relief, his lips had remained the same—pink and plump.
She lingered on them, and he coughed, scratching the back of his head. Oops.
Embarrassed, she changed the subject. “So, I’m guessing that paper you mentioned wasn’t written.”
He grimaced. “It was a lie.”
Yareli’s breath caught. Lies were common, normal; they were uttered every day for different reasons. However, she hadn’t contemplated the possibility of August lying to her. She had instinctively trusted him from the moment he had offered her the seat next to him in English 101.
She pursed her lips, disgruntled, and asked, “Care to tell me what you were doing that gave you an injury like that one?”
“I was on a mission in my realm,” he said.
She didn’t fail to notice his tense grip on his cup. He wasn’t telling her everything, but she decided to let it go. She couldn’t pry open a clam if it didn’t want to. It was much too violent; she wouldn’t like it done to her.
“Realm? What’s it like?”
His grip didn’t loosen; in fact, it seemed to tighten. “Izmari. It’s an island only accessible via portals located in specific locations on Earth.”
That explained the blue portal that the other strangers had disappeared into.
“I’m assuming Enchanted Brew is a portal hub.”
“Yes.”
A nagging thought scratched at the back of her mind, begging to be let into the forefront. She hesitated; the words were slow to form.
“Did you… set up this job for me?”
Guilt flashed on his face, drawing all of his features inward into a pinched expression. So he had. The easy interview, the perfect hours, the generous wage… It all fell into place. August had done that for her.
“Thank you.”
He looked down at his cup. “It was nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. It meant everything to her; her bubble, insulating her from troubles at home, had been kept from bursting because of the job he created for her.
“How do you know the owner of this place? Did you know about the blood contract?” she asked, saying the second question in a quiet, low, conspiratorial tone.
The tips of August’s pointed ears went pink. “I… am the owner.”
Her cheeks burned, their color matching his ears. “Oh…”
Then, because she might as well stick the landing, she asked, “What the hell was that? Signing in blood!”
“Your blood was necessary to add you to the wards so you could come and go freely. I was,” he said, clearing his throat, “the man in the pointed hat. I had to physically open the wards when you entered and exited.”
An awkward silence ensued, in which Yareli took a sip of her now-cold hot chocolate, then another. Had he noticed her discomfort around his disguise?
“That makes sense,” she finally said.
But it didn’t. She didn’t know anything about magic, much less about wards.
Adding blood to the equation made her head spin because her mom’s voice whispered in her head that it was the devil’s work.
She shook her head at the thought; August was no devil.
Magic was not inherently evil. It couldn’t be—not when it could heal as it had done with him. The possibilities were endless.
“Are werewolves real?” she blurted out.
When a popular franchise exploded during her teenage years, Yareli had decidedly been Team Werewolf.
August looked taken aback; her question, apparently, was unexpected. Erick snorted from across the room, which confirmed he had been eavesdropping.
“Err, yes.” August held out his fingers as he listed a couple of mythical creatures. “There are vampires, nymphs, griffins, brownies, sirens… However, they aren’t easy to find. They keep to their own communities, traversing through human cities only when necessary.”
“You missed my favorite group,” Erick called out. “Centaurs! They throw the best raves.”
“Do they have their own islands like the Fae?”
“No,” August answered. “Fae are a special exception. Izmari was born from a treaty long ago between humans and Fae.”
“Can I visit?” she asked.
If the world around her was determined to stay bland and dreary, she would travel to a magical land.
August’s expression shuttered. “Not at this time.”
“Why?”
“Maybe in the future.”
She took another sip, noting his avoidance. Something was amiss in Izmari. She didn’t insist; instead, she sat with the well of information. Magic was real; August was a—hot—Fae. Her life had taken a turn, a change in fate; it was irresistible to her.
“Then it’s a promise,” she said. “Take me there someday.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Someday.”
It was good enough for her. Curiosity got the best of her, and she asked, “So, what exactly do you do in Izmari? Because I find it hard to believe a cafe owner would get seriously injured.”
Erick sauntered over, plucking her empty mug from her hand. “Yeah, August, what do you do?”
Yareli furrowed her eyebrows; Erick seemed to be enjoying himself almost as if they had talked about this exact possibility. She met August’s gaze. What had he said about her?
He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing glamorous. I’m a general.”
“A general.”
“For my dad’s court.”
Erick butt-in again. “He’s a lord’s son, and I work for him. Horrible hours, by the way. Why do you think I’m here almost every night?”
As she put the pieces together, alarm rang through her. She whipped her head toward August. “Are you fighting every night?”
“No,” he said, his voice tight. “Erick is prone to exaggeration.” He directed his gaze to him. “Isn’t that right?”
“I do have an inclination for dramatics.”
Yareli worried her lip, looking between them. Erick avoided her gaze, and August was much too stiff. Lies. They were lying to her again. A sour taste filled her mouth, sliding down her throat and settling into her ribcage, but concern held her tongue. She couldn’t lose this job.
She pasted a smile on her lips. “So, can I still work here?”
“You can work here for as long as you want,” August responded. “Donna says you do great work.”
“And Donna liking you is the greatest feat,” Erick said. “Even if August was removed from his post here, I bet she would let you keep working here.”
“That’s a possibility?”
“It’s unlikely it’ll happen in your lifetime,” August interjected.
Your lifetime. The words sobered Yareli, reminding her of their vast, differing lived experiences. What did a human girl have to offer a long-living Fae? As though sensing her change in mood, August dismissed Erick.
“Go check the front,” he said.
Erick made a face, but he went. “Alright, boss.”
August waited until his footsteps faded before saying, “This must be a lot, and you must have a lot of questions, but I…” He exhaled, running a hand through his shorter hair. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it. You weren’t meant to ever find out.”
The acid in her ribcage loosened, and his words sparked her anger. “Was I meant to remain your ignorant human friend working in your magical cafe until one day you suddenly disappeared from my life?”
Do I really mean that little to you?
August’s eyes widened, then scrunched up. “No. That’s not—”
“You know, finding out magic exists isn’t intimidating. Finding out that you might not be who I thought you were is.” She walked away, pausing at the doorway. “I’m happy I met you, but are you?” She fled from the cafe before he could answer.
Feelings swept through her chest, roaring in her ears and pounding on her heart until it cracked.
Ah, she thought, there’s the bitter heartbreak.
Only love could hurt like this. Yet, Yareli sniffled and picked up her broken heart’s pieces, determined to confess her feelings and receive an answer from him.
“I’m going to get a happy ending,” she promised herself, her voice petulant, almost like a child’s.
As the bus arrived late again, she thought it wasn’t all awful.
Magic was real, and she still had a job.
The ghost on her shoulder weighed on her, reminding her that boy troubles should be the last of her priorities.
She sighed and stepped onto the bus. It rolled away from Enchanted Brew, away from her delusional fantasy of being just a girl whose biggest problem was a magical boy, and brought her back to reality—bills, family, and homework.
Her phone vibrated, and she picked up her mom’s call.
“Bueno.”
Everything was not bueno.