Magic and mochas, p.8
Magic & Mochas, page 8
Nyssa scowled, her eyes lingering on the hand touching Thorne. “I came to warn you.”
Thorne stiffened beneath my hand.
But I simply raised an eyebrow at the other witch. “About what?”
“To stay away from Rasmus. He’s mine,” she practically growled.
I laughed. “You can have him.”
She blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”
“You deserve each other, and as you can see, I am happily taken.” I wound my arm around Thorne’s, leaning into him. “I actually have a favor to ask of you, Nyssa.”
“You do?” The witch looked cautiously optimistic.
“Yes. You see, I am trying to go my separate way from the two of you, but for some reason, Rasmus keeps seeking me out.” I sighed dramatically, glancing pointedly in Rasmus’ direction. “Would you be so kind as to keep him away from me?”
“Gladly.” Nyssa snorted, but then gave me the side-eye. “But…aren’t you upset? I know you were the one who hexed his dresser drawer.”
I paused, and felt Thorne look down at me, silently asking if he should intervene. I gave his arm a squeeze. “Not anymore. Another witch would want revenge; I just want to be left alone with my cozy shop, my little espresso machine, and…my new boyfriend.”
I almost surprised myself, but I knew I spoke the truth. I had thought about taking revenge at first; but then I would have been stewing in my hatred and resentment, and the only person that would have hurt was me.
Thorne put his arm around me, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. Rasmus must have been watching us after all, because he suddenly rose from his self-imposed exile and stormed to the front of the now-growing line.
“With garbage like this on the menu, it’ll be a wonder if this place lasts longer than a week,” he sneered, holding his coffee up for emphasis.
All the conversations in the shop died a quick death. Every pair of eyes turned to the redheaded warlock, who started fidgeting uncomfortably. Nyssa looked mortified.
Had this cheater really decided to try and ruin my lifelong dream, my precious fledgling business that I’d poured my heart and soul into, because he was jealous Thorne had kissed me on the cheek? After he had cheated on me?
“It’s probably made with cheap beans,” he stammered into the silence. “The color-changing spell is juvenile, and only a real potions master like me could—”
A particularly muscular werewolf and orc abruptly stood up and faced Rasmus, who looked like he was about ready to wet himself—or fire off some ill-advised spells.
But before a fight could break out, Thorne vaulted smoothly over the counter, so that he towered over Rasmus. Wisps of shadow poured from his frame, pooling at his feet like a dark fog.
“Now hold on…” Rasmus swallowed nervously and backed up a step into his mistress, trying to avoid touching them. “I was only saying what everyone was thinking.”
“That’s funny,” I finally chimed in, after overcoming my initial shock. “I seem to remember you drank this particular brew down by the gallon practically every morning—and would giggle like a schoolgirl when it changed color. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.”
“Seriously?” Nyssa was now scowling at Rasmus instead of me.
“That’s not— I can explain!” His eyes glanced wildly around the room, but he was met only with cold stares.
“If you’re not going to order anything else, I am going to have to ask you to leave—along with your mistress.” Thorne’s tone was nearly as deep and dark as his shadows.
Whispers and murmurs broke out. Nyssa and Rasmus both reddened, and she began tugging on his arm to usher him out.
“Fine! I wouldn’t want to waste a single one of my hard-earned dollars on this bean water anyway,” Rasmus spat, as he finally allowed Nyssa to lead him out.
“Don’t you mean your father’s hard-earned dollars?” I called after him.
To her credit, Nyssa managed to get him under control before he could retort and dig himself a deeper hole.
A few titters and chuckles echoed around the room, lightening the atmosphere. The orc and the werewolf sat back down, and it felt like a collective sigh of relief was released.
“Thanks.” I gave Thorne a tight smile as he returned to stand beside me—by walking around the counter like a normal person this time.
“Anytime.” His comforting presence made me feel like I could finally relax.
The person who had been waiting in line behind Nyssa, an older selkie and her granddaughter, finally stepped forward to place her order, which I made as speedily as I could manage. I handed over the croissant she ordered for her granddaughter, and she gave me a warm smile.
“You look like you could use a cup of tea, dearie,” she said, patting my arm comfortingly.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I think I’ve had about as much tea as I can handle for one day. Or lifetime.”
The older woman looked confused, until her little granddaughter tugged on her sleeve and whispered in her ear, “She means too much gossip and drama.”
“Slang these days,” the grandmother tutted. “Confuses us poor old folks to no end.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty-five, madam,” Thorne said suavely.
“Young’uns these days.” She waved him off, but looked quite pleased as she took her coffee and croissant over to an open seat by the crackling hearth, where her granddaughter promptly curled up happily with her treat.
“Sorry for the interruption everyone, and thanks for standing up for me. Free refills are on the house!” I announced.
A collective cheer went up, and I smiled to myself. Losing a bit of money on my opening day seemed like a small price to pay for the scene I had just witnessed, and for the warmth that filled this room. My customers had given me more than just help or protection; they had given me new hope, and the sense of community I had been yearning for, but didn’t know I needed.
Chapter eleven
Cats & Carvings
Thorne
Anything to report? I asked my soldiers.
Negative, stated the one outside Clove’s house.
Nothing, answered the one stationed at the shop.
Nothing relevant, answered the soldier I had placed in Rasmus’ shadow, after his little outburst during the shop’s grand opening. The warlock has been spending the bulk of his time arguing with his mistress, being scolded by his parents, or yelling at his computer.
I see. Continue your observations, and report back to me if anything changes.
Yes, my lord, they replied in unison.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I preferred eliminating threats immediately. Monitoring them was exhausting, and I wasn’t even the one doing most of the watching!
But at least this way, I could keep Clove safe. So far, Rasmus hadn’t made any other stupid moves, and I hoped he would keep it that way. Though I was still surprised the warlock hadn’t noticed the shadow soldier I had slipped into his shadow. His parents must have sheltered him a great deal for him to be so completely oblivious.
Then again, maybe I was the strange one. I had to keep reminding myself that most people, magical or otherwise, did not have nearly as much experience in battle as I did.
At least that experience allowed me to protect Clove now. Even if it made me feel like a shark in a pond full of guppies.
I returned my gaze to Clove. At the moment, she was helping what was likely her last customer for the night. Leaning back in the stuffed armchair I had claimed as my own, I watched the way her smile warmed up the entire room, far more than the crackling fire to my right. She used her magic so effortlessly, as if it were an extension of her being. I had encountered very few witches or warlocks with an equal level of dedication to their craft. Though it seemed she had devoted an equal effort to her brewing skills for both coffee and potions.
The little bell over the door jingled as the customer left, with a cup of steaming GlimmerBrew in hand. Another heartbeat later, and Clove flicked her wrist to magically flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED and locked the door.
Putting her hands on her hips, she exclaimed, “Well, I think I’ll call it a day.”
“I’m glad business has been going so well this week.” I stood, stretching after sitting for so long.
“Me, too.” She gave me a relieved smile. “I hope it keeps up.”
“I’m sure it will.” I walked over to the counter and leaned against it. “By the way, when did you want to carve those pumpkins? I’m assuming you want to have them ready before the Moonlit Masquerade Ball in a few days.”
“That’s right! I completely forgot about them.” Clove tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Why don’t we carve them tonight? I can cast a preservation spell on them so they’ll last through all the festivities.”
I loved the way she said we.
“Let’s do it.”
With a grin, Clove floated two pumpkins over to one of the shop’s tables, not too far from the fire and Silas’ cat tree. I grabbed a few knives and some spare newspapers.
“What are the newspapers for?” Clove asked as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
“For the pulp. That way you don’t have more cleaning up to do.”
“Good thinking.” She sat down and drew one of the pumpkins towards her. Pulling out a marker, she began drawing on her pumpkin.
“What are you drawing?” I asked, edging closer so I could see.
“No peeking!” Clove summoned a curtain of sparkles to hide it. “It’s a surprise.”
“Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “Then you’ll have to wait and see what design I go for, too.”
“We’ll have a grand reveal when we’re done.” Clove summoned a second marker and floated it over to me.
“Thanks.” I sat down as well, but ended up just staring at my pumpkin.
The precious few times I had carved a pumpkin when I was little, I had gone for the classic Jack o’Lantern faces. And usually the mean and scary-looking ones, at that. But somehow, I couldn’t picture one of those fitting well in The Broom & Bean.
Stroking my goatee, I tried to come up with something different. Something that wouldn’t be out of place in a witch’s magical coffee shop. An idea sparked, and I pulled the cap off my pen and got to work.
After a few minutes, I had the basic design sketched out. I had a feeling it wouldn’t hold a candle to Clove’s, but for once, this wasn’t a competition. I picked up one of the larger knives and began cutting a circle around the stem.
“Don’t forget to cut at an angle, so the top doesn’t fall straight through the hole,” Clove advised, watching me with a mildly concerned look on her face.
“I completely forgot.” I ran a hand through my hair self-consciously. “It’s been a while since the last time I carved one of these.”
Clove’s expression softened. “Tell me about the last time you carved a pumpkin.”
I smiled ruefully. “I think it was when I was seven, before my powers fully manifested. My parents and I used to carve pumpkins every year to decorate for the trick-or-treaters.”
“What kinds of designs did you do?” Clove kept her eyes on her own pumpkin, but her tone was warm and open.
“Mostly the typical scary Jack o’Lantern faces. They weren’t very good, but it was fun making them. How about you?”
“Pretty much the same. Though in recent years, I’ve started tackling some of the more complicated patterns, like howling wolves and haunted houses.” She smiled to herself. “Isn't it funny how the legends of magic and the people who wielded it have continued on amongst humans?”
“Very.” But then a thought occurred to me. “Don’t you find it insulting how humans always depict witches as old hags with green skin or beaky noses?”
“Not really—I don’t take it personally.” She shook her head. “I bet there were plenty of elder witches terrorizing the humans who did look like that. Besides, they have plenty of cute witches in movies, too.”
“They do?” I asked as I set my pumpkin top aside and began scooping out the pulp.
“You haven’t seen any of those?” Clove began hollowing out her pumpkin as well.
“Until recently, I didn’t have the time or the interest. And before you bought the building, I mostly used candles for light, since there was no electricity or wifi,” I explained. Fortunately for me, the water had still worked since it was drawn straight from a well in the basement.
“Right.” Clove’s cheeks colored a bit in embarrassment.
“Do you have some you recommend?”
Clove’s beautiful turquoise eyes lit up. “Oh boy, do I! How much time do you have?”
“All the time in the world.” My voice came out lower than I meant it to. Clearing my throat, I added, “What are the top ten movies I should start with?”
“Well now, that’s a loaded question. But if I had to pick, I would recommend you start with…” Clove rattled a list of movies, from action to comedy and everything in between.
I enjoyed listening to her voice as I finished hollowing out my pumpkin and began carving the design I had drawn on it. I glanced up occasionally to see Clove doing the same, completely engrossed in her work and the descriptions she was giving me of her favorite movies. I made a mental note of the ones that sounded especially interesting.
Maybe we could watch some of them together as a way to relax after a long day working in the shop.
I was startled from my thoughts when Silas jumped onto the table from his cat tree, where he’d been watching us through half-lidded eyes. He wove between our pumpkins until he came to a stop in front of the pile of pulp from our pumpkins, which was resting on some newspaper in the middle of the table.
To my surprise, the feline began licking up some of the pulp.
“Um…” I trailed off, raising one eyebrow. “Is it ok for your familiar to be eating that?”
Clove looked up, saw what Silas was doing, and laughed. “Pumpkin is one of his favorite treats. I’m actually surprised it took him this long to take a bite.”
“I see.” I eyed the cat warily. Silas stared at me with slitted pupils, as if he were accusing me of being a snitch. I was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that my face was well within biting and clawing distance.
It would be nice if I could hear what he was saying.
“No, don’t do that Silas,” Clove chided him, and I had a feeling I had guessed correctly.
Slowly, I grabbed a piece of the pumpkin shell I had carved out of my design, and held it out to him. “Here, would you like this too?”
Silas leaned forward to sniff the offering, then licked his mouth before darting forward and grabbing the piece of pumpkin out of my hand. I let out a silent breath of relief that his needle-sharp fangs had sunk only into the pumpkin, and not into my hand.
But at least he wasn’t glaring at me anymore.
“Silas says thank you,” Clove said, but by the way the cat hissed at her, I was guessing her translation was a little off the mark.
Maybe it was a good thing I couldn’t hear him telepathically, after all.
“Have you finished carving your pumpkin?” I asked.
She grinned. “Yep! Let’s turn them around on the count of three.”
“One…” Clove snapped her fingers and little tea candles flew into both of our pumpkins.
“Two…” I grabbed my pumpkin, ready to turn it around.
“Three!”
We both turned our pumpkins to face the other, and my lips curved in a smile when I saw hers. She had carved a cat reaching for the moon.
“Silas, I think that’s you.” I watched, amused, as the cat puffed out his chest proudly and sat a little straighter, like the cat in the design. I was starting to get an idea of how he was feeling based on his poses, now.
“You have a good eye, Thorne.” Clove lit up with delight when her eyes fell on my pumpkin. “Is that a witch hat?”
“I thought it was only appropriate, considering the owner of the shop.” My carving wasn’t the smoothest, but I was glad she was able to tell at a glance what it was.
“I love it.”
“I’m glad.” Why did my heart skip a beat when I heard those first two words?
“And…I’m looking forward to attending the Masquerade Ball with you.” She looked down shyly, a loose lock of hair falling prettily over her face.
How that foolish warlock had ever looked at another woman when he had this one was beyond me.
“I am, too.” A few months ago, the thought of attending an event with that many strangers would have made me want to bolt. In fact, I had been dreading attending it since the moment I agreed to do so. But if it was with her…
Then it no longer sounded so bad.
Chapter twelve
Secrets & Scones
Clove
“Today, I think I’ll try your Black Cat Brew,” Kana said with a grin. She’d been coming every morning this week since we first opened, and insisted on trying something new every time.
A fox with good taste, Silas commented. How refreshing.
“Coming right up.” With a flick of my wrist, I had the coffee brewing itself. “I designed this one to boost agility, balance, and the ability to land on your feet—both literally and metaphorically.”
“That sounds like exactly what I need right now.” Kana propped her hands on her hips and let out a sigh.
“Have there been problems at the bakery?” I asked as I handed Kana her change and her drink.
“Not exactly.” Her tails flicked agitatedly. “There’s just this…guy who has been visiting nearly every day this week.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Has he taken note of your bakery’s fabulous scones? Or perhaps the fabulous owner?”
Kana’s cheeks reddened, and she looked a tad flustered. “I’m starting to suspect it's the latter.”
