Chapter 1 #2
Harriet threw me a look of stark relief when I walked out from the back. She stepped back from the register as if the thing was about to bite her and tore off her vest.
“I’m out of here!” She turned to leave, but I grabbed her by the arm.
“Gotta count the register. You don’t want me to rob you blind, do you?”
Harriet snorted. “You’re way too nice to rob anyone.”
Her words didn’t sound like a compliment. I was nice, but then again, would a nice person have a basement full of poisonous herbs and illegal tools? “Maybe, but I’m bad at math, and we all know how wrong that can go when it comes to a register’s final count.”
I batted my eyelashes at her. “Addy’s coming with a new register for me in just a minute, so hang tight.” I pointed at the clock. “Plus, you still have five minutes left on your shift. I’ll take the coffees out and be over once the registers are switched out.”
Harriet’s pinched expression told me she didn’t like that idea, but since I hadn’t given her a choice, she had no way out other than to take the next order.
The customers in line shifted in anticipation, already annoyed by our thirty-second off-topic convo.
With an apologetic smile, I snatched up the two coffees Guillermo had set on the window ledge.
He gave me a gap-toothed grin. “Alex!”
“Heya, G,” I greeted. “You and I. Twelve hours. Ready for a caffeine extravaganza?”
Guillermo shook his head at my overexuberant attitude.
“Eight hours in and you beg for the nitro.” He had a deep accent I could never place, and he often misused words, sometimes with hilarious results.
His hair was dark and insanely thick—fairytale prince hair that I occasionally teased him about, asking when he was going to let me bring some hair product and a curling iron so I could make him go full-on storybook glam.
He had a jaw so crisp I bet he could cut paper with the thing, and his eyes were an alarming shade of green that he covered with sedate brown contacts because he didn’t like the attention those pretty little peepers brought him when he was at work.
I’d seen him without his contacts once and gasped at the brilliant shade. His discomfort with my attention was obvious, and I refrained from peppering him with a million questions about them as I’d never seen another goblin with the same shade.
G wasn’t handsome—goblins never were—but his features were put together in a pleasant way, and I knew he was a good person. But get him angry and he could kick some serious ass.
All these things together put G firmly in hot territory, no matter his diminutive height or the human glamour customers saw when they spotted him.
His famous nitro coffee was a blend that made my frigging teeth sing. Effective, but it tasted like meth and dark roast had a baby and named it Ricky Bobby. I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see how fast your little twinkle toes can go, Little G. Even the nitro can’t keep up with meeee!”
He barked a laugh and turned away from the window. “Hurry before those get cold.”
The cups were marked with Emma and Fleur.
I looked up and spotted the two witches in a corner booth.
Emma was unfamiliar, but Fleur popped in at least three times a week.
As witches went, Fleur was friendly enough and had never given me cause for concern, but witches were naturally wary of one another after the witch-against-witch violence of the past, and I was careful not to prick their protective instincts or call a more than normal amount of attention to myself.
A pang of hurt zipped through me. Memories of Mom, a powerful witch herself, surfaced at the worst times, the ache I had in my chest at her absence never disappearing completely. I thought about my father far less. His absence was never one I had to get used to because he’d never been there.
Mom, on the other hand, had been there for everything.
Seeing the witches sitting with their heads together now, studying a text, made me remember how she’d sit with me for hours, poring over old books in an effort to help me understand what it was to be a hedgewitch.
During every lesson, Mom always emphasized how I could use my powers to better the world.
I grimaced. Not that I had, exactly. I bettered my bank account more than the world.
All things in due time, I guess?
I picked up the coffees and grinned. Guillermo had drawn a cute little ghost on top of both coffees with milk foam. Most people loved his art, but some of our younger folks had proclaimed it to be “ugh, basic.” G had thankfully never let the criticism stop him from his adorable foam art.
One time, though, a customer was so awful to me, G drew a middle finger in their latte foam, and Addy had to yell at him in front of the customers to keep them happy, even as her eyes twinkled with amusement.
I’d laughed so hard I’d almost peed myself.
I turned to walk to table 12 and slid the drinks onto Fleur’s table.
“Emma?” I looked questioningly at Fleur’s friend.
Fleur was the smaller, curvier of the two. Deep brown messily braided hair hung over her left shoulder and light brown eyes held a smile when she saw what I was holding.
Emma, the other witch, raised her hand. I slid hers over. Her eyes lit up when she saw G’s adorable ghost art.
Fleur grinned when I put her mug down. “G always nails it. I can’t wait to see what he does when it’s actually Halloween.”
“I’ll let him know he needs to bring his A-game this year,” I said.
Emma’s gaze bounced between us. “He does this all the time?”
“Guillermo is a foam art wizard. Fall is my favorite time of the year here. Wait until you see his maple leaf art.”
Fleur’s eyes lit up. “Soon, I hope?”
“November, usually. You have about a month before he goes full-on basic white girl.”
Emma smiled, more subdued than Fleur, but she seemed like a sweet person all the same. “You two know each other?”
Fleur waved her hand. “I come in here all the time. G and Alex here are the best baristas this place has.”
Aww. “Thanks, Fleur.”
Fleur jerked her head toward the other girl. “This is Emma. She’s new to town and has requested to join our coven. I’m going over a few things with her.”
My smile threatened to slip. Covens were a sore spot with my mother. Her warnings, whispered and quiet and numerous, had scarred my psyche. Stay away from covens, she’d told me. More power does not mean safety.
“Oh,” I said, relieved by how normal my voice sounded. “Did you leave a coven from your old hometown?”
Emma nodded but looked to Fleur before answering. “I wasn’t there long. Mom and Dad moved a lot, but I finally saved enough money to get my own place. I visited here once and loved it, so I decided to stay for a while.”
Fleur’s eyes softened. “Well, if you decide to join us, you’ll have a home for as long as you want.”
Mom’s feelings about covens and Fleur’s kindness to Emma were such a wild juxtaposition, I had no idea what to think.
Emma gave Fleur a shaky smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
I wiped my hands on my apron. “Well, I need to get back. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
Fleur peered up at me, a curious expression on her face. “What about you?”
I blinked. “Umm. What about me what?”
Fleur snorted. “Do you belong to a coven? I can smell the green on you, Alex. You’re either a natural witch or a hedge.”
My chest tightened. I offered her a polite smile. “No. I’m not really a group kind of person. I prefer solitary witchcraft.”
Fleur studied me for a long moment. “Alright then. Fair enough. If you ever change your mind, let me know. Hedges aren’t as common as they used to be, and we’d love to add one to our group.”
She slid a card over. I did the polite thing and tucked it into my apron pocket, but I think we both knew I’d never call her.
I nodded and hurried back to the register, as if that small wooden barrier could protect me from probing questions from other witches.
I’d been approached before about joining a coven and had always demurred, pretending to prefer my solitude.
The truth was, I’d always trusted my mother to steer me right, and if she was warning me against covens, I wouldn’t go against her.
After they’d finished their coffees, Emma and Fleur passed by the register. The younger witch, Emma, reached into her purse and pulled out a fiver. “Mind giving this to the foam artist?” she asked shyly.
I plucked the bill out of her hand. “Not at all. We keep him in the back, so the girls don’t throw themselves at him. He’s way too handsome for the masses.”
She laughed and gave G, who was still standing at the window, a shy wave. “Tell him he’s the best,” she whispered.
“I will.” I waved the bill at her. “Thanks for stopping by!”
Six hours later, a nitro coffee was looking pretty good.
We were busier than usual today, which was odd for a Tuesday.
Addy mentioned something about a peace council coming to town, so our little city had triple the number of supernaturals for the next several days.
I paid little attention to supernatural politics.
Nine times out of ten, whatever was happening was none of my concern.
Witches, just like the other main branches of supernaturals, had a hierarchy, but unlike others, especially vamps and wolves, they stayed peaceful but solitary, choosing to stay out of the political spotlight and govern their own people.
While most witches preferred the safety of covens, others chose to practice alone.
My particular choices meant I could stay so far under the radar that I barely registered at all.
To all the supernaturals, I wanted to be known as…
oh… that chick in that coffee shop. Brown hair?
*Squint* No. Blonde. Hell, I dunno. She just takes my money and hands me coffee.
That’s how I wanted to present to another supernatural: completely unmemorable.