The pumpkin spice suprem.., p.1
The Pumpkin Spice Supremacy : A Cozy Fantasy, page 1
The Pumpkin Spice Supremacy
A Cozy Fantasy
Wolfe Locke, James Falcon
Copyright © [2023] by [Wolfe Locke]
All rights reserved.
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1
"Order up! One white chocolate peppermint mocha on the double, with whipped cream, cocoa drizzle and extra sprinkles!"
Billy the Pumpkinhead sprang into action behind the counter, leaping and twirling with his spindly legs as he set about prepping the drink. I’d deliberately made the order a little tricky to test him—he was our newest barista at the Witch’s Brew and he needed the extra practice. Once I was sure he was on the right track, I turned to Jack and Hugo, my two other pumpkinheads, with a wicked smile.
"You’re up next," I said, fixing Jack in my sights. "I’ve got a tricky one coming up for you."
He saluted, orange flames dancing behind his carved jack o’lantern eyes. "I can do it Boss! I can!"
"Rosie," Hugo said, watching Billy work. "When am I going to get a really hard drink? Something extra complicated. I know I can do it."
"Today’s your day, Hugo," I said. "Today’s your day."
It was Monday, Practice Day here at the Brew. The coffee shop was only open Tuesdays through Sundays, and we all liked to use the time to test new recipes, prep extra orders, and practice tricky drinks just in case a customer wanted one someday. Day off? Never heard of it. We were the only coffee game in town, and we believed in staying at our best at all times.
Billy was wrapping up with his drink, so I set the other two to work on other orders. Hugo got a double chocolate cinnamon espresso swirl and Jack got a new drink—a candy cane eggnog confection we were still testing out. I’d been tweaking the recipe for weeks, trying to get it ready for the winter festivals, but it still wasn’t quite right. Jack would try this week’s iteration and we’d taste test it once he was done.
It was chaos with all three of them brewing and mixing together at once, but somehow it worked. Pumpkinheads were better baristas than people, I’d found—they were faster and more graceful, and their long legs helped them reach high shelves better. Once you got used to their creepy jack o’lantern faces they were all right. I’d accidentally brought Hugo from his home realm a few years ago when I was trying a summoning spell—never again, by the way—and once he got over the initial shock he settled in nicely. The other two drifted our way one by one, drawn by the rumors they’d heard about a mysterious pumpkinheaded stranger who brewed incredible coffee. Once they saw the shop they’d both decided to set down roots and stay a while, at least until they learned the trade. We were lucky to have all three.
As for me? Rosie Hexwell, owner of the Witch’s Brew. Like I said, it was the only café in Ashford, so we tried to keep things fresh and exciting. You know—give the people what they want and they’ll never get bored, that kind of thing. That philosophy had never failed us, not in the two years I’d been running the Brew. I was born here, raised here, and I intended to serve this little town as long as I could.
"Mrrrow!"
A large black and white tomcat leaped up onto the counter, yellow eyes gleaming as he made his way toward me.
"What news, Asmodeus?" I said as he settled down in a patch of sun, twitching his tail.
"The usual. Mary Barton’s out selling old apples by the fountain again. No one wants to buy them. Town clock’s broken but Mister Mosters is already heading up the ladder to start it again. Just a temporary patch. To really fix it he needs a part he doesn’t have."
"Hm," I said. "Where’s the part?"
"He says it’s probably in Fall River. Or you could—"
"No."
"It’s an easy spell!" he said, sitting up with a yowl. "I know you could do it. You’ve done harder before—"
"And what did I say last time? Small magic. Baking. Coffee. I don’t do big spells anymore, it never works—"
He didn’t even let me finish, just growled and stalked off toward the back room to sulk. I watched him go, shaking my head. Normally I wouldn’t let people act like that around me, but Asmo was my oldest friend. I’d summoned him when I was just a witchling, back when I was still trying to do big magic and show off for my friends. I’d meant to summon a fighting demon, but—well—I got him. He wasn’t a cat back then, of course. He’d come out of the Other Realm looking more like a twisted goat with lightning for horns. But once he’d decided to stay in our world, he’d quickly found a form he liked better. Now, he mostly stayed feline—although he had a human form that he used when we were short-staffed and needed an extra pair of hands. Personally, I thought the cat shape suited him. It matched his personality better than the goat had.
What I’d said to Asmo was right, though—I hadn’t really done any big magic since I’d settled down at the Witch’s Brew in earnest. I was supposed to have great power somewhere, deep inside—old witch family and all—but it must have been pretty buried because I’d never seen it. Most of my spells went wrong somehow. Sometimes they went wrong in a good way—like with Asmo and the pumpkinheads—but it seemed safer not to risk it. If there was one thing I’d learned from my Ma and Grandma Witch, it was that witchcraft was serious business and it wasn’t right for everyone. I was perfectly happy with my little coffee spells.
Truly.
"Done!"
Billy flashed a snaggle-toothed grin as he slid a mug across the counter for me to try. I looked down at the drink, trying to assess his visual presentation before I tried it.
"Even sprinkle distribution," I said. "Good dollop of whipped cream. The chocolate’s got a nice drizzle pattern to it. Not bad."
"Any notes?"
I took a sip. "Little more peppermint next time, I think. Give it that special something."
Billy nodded, pumpkin head bobbing. "I’ve got one more thing for you. Made some updates to the recipe this time."
He reached a skinny arm under the counter and brought out a tray of fresh banana chocolate pound cake, already sliced and ready for serving. I grabbed a piece and took a bite.
"Mmm," I said, immediately taking three more bites. "Delicious. You doubled the chocolate—"
"And added a little oat bran," Billy said, setting the tray down so the other pumpkinheads could have a slice. "Makes it healthy. Adds texture."
He’d been testing out new baked goods for the Brew for the last month, and they sold like hotcakes. Billy had never touched an oven before coming here, but you’d never know it. He had a natural talent for baking that I’d never seen before in anyone—much less a pumpkinhead.
"What do you think?" he said shyly. "Good enough for the store? Someday?"
"More than," I said, taking another slice. "We’ll be sold out of these in an hour tomorrow."
He insisted he liked working in my shop, but Billy had a dream. He wanted to own his own bakery one day, right here in Ashford, and make cakes and cookies for everyone in town. He’d told me about it late one night after work, worried I’d be insulted—after all, I was the one who brought him here in the first place and helped him learn to bake. He didn’t have to worry. I’d never keep someone from following their dreams, sad as it might be to lose him.
"Well," he said, "when I get my store, I’ll put a poster for Witch’s Brew right in the window. That way everyone will buy their cookies from me and their coffee from you."
"Attaboy," I said, turning to taste the other two pumpkinheads’ test drinks.
Jack, I knew, wanted to be a stagecoach driver one day. He’d become so enthralled with the human world that he wanted to see more of it. And Hugo—well, I wasn’t sure what Hugo wanted yet, but he had a gleam in his eye that suggested he had a plan. Sometimes it felt like everyone working at the Witch’s Brew was only here for a little while, that they were all on their way to somewhere else. Except me.
Enough feeling sorry for yourself.
"What about you, Asmo?" I said loudly, striding over toward the back room where he was sunning himself on the warm wood floor. "What’s your dream?"
"To spend an entire day asleep," he said, eyes closed. "With no one interrupting me."
I rolled my eyes, but I left a piece of banana chocolate bread by the door for him. Asmo loved his cat shape, but he took it too far sometimes. I wasn’t even sure if he could sleep, being a demon and all.
I tested the other two pumpkinheads’ drinks and, once I was satisfied, they knew the recipe, sent them home to relax before our busy day tomorrow. In the meantime, I started sweeping the floor. I liked cleaning the shop myself on Monday nights, liked the peace and quiet of being alone, liked….
There was a loud clatter as the front door flew open, and I almost dropped my broom in shock.
"Hey cuz! What’s cooking?"
Oh boy. Lulu.
2
Lulu and I were technically related, although I could never quite figure out how. "Mother’s second cousin once removed" was about the closest estimate I could get. Like I said, big witch family. We just called each other cousin.
Lulu had many talents. She was a hard worker, she had almost unlimited energy, and, most of all, she was loud. When she’d come into the café a year earlier looking for a job, I’d instantly known where to put her: advertising. She spent her days sprinting around Ashford telling people about our new products and trying to get them to come to the café. You might think that would be annoying, but the crazy thing was, it worked.
This was her day off too, and she was wearing a short orange skirt and bright pink boots.
"Where are you going?" I said, starting to sweep again. "A rave?"
"Come on, cuz!" she said, looking over the half-finished drinks the pumpkinheads had left on the counter. I might like coffee, but I couldn’t finish all of them. "Don’t you ever get tired of working all the time?"
"Not really. I like it in the shop. It’s quiet."
"Yeah, yeah," she said, taking a sip of Hugo’s double chocolate cinnamon espresso swirl. "Ooo, this is pretty good!"
"Don’t tell the others," I said, "but that one’s my favorite."
Lulu sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter, legs swinging in the air. I kept sweeping. Sooner or later, she’d get to her point—and I guessed she was here for a reason. She knew me well enough to know that I wasn’t going to go out partying with her.
"So," she said cautiously, "the Witch’s Brew."
"So," I said. "The Witch’s Brew."
"I’ve been working here for what, almost a year?"
"Nine months," I said, without looking up from my sweeping. "Maybe a week or two more."
"And I was just wondering—you know—if I had any thoughts on marketing, or anything—"
She trailed off, and I frowned. It wasn’t like Lulu to be shy. In fact, "shy" was basically the opposite of how Lulu normally was.
"You’ve been doing a great job, Lu," I said. "People keep coming into the store telling me they’ve seen you around. Everyone knows you in town."
"Right."
"Just yesterday I had someone come in asking for Billy’s white chocolate peppermint drink. Said he heard about it from you."
"Right, right. Yeah, we’ve really been getting the word out. I’m just wondering—"
She trailed off. I waited.
"Well," she went on finally, "what if we tried some new tactics? Like—we could put up enchanted posters by the train station, make them move and talk, try and get some visitors from out of town. Or we could run some radio ads?"
I nodded. "That all sounds great, Lulu. But…"
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But technically we didn’t even need to advertise the café. There were no other coffee shops in town, so we had no competition. Don’t get me wrong—she’d done a great job so far. We’d gotten the word out to a few folks who’d never come by before. But I’d really only hired her because she was my cousin, and I knew she needed the work.
"I just want to do a good job, you know?" she said. "Don’t want to just be a hype girl forever. Want to build my skills."
So, you can go somewhere else.
Like everyone else, Lulu had a dream. "Right. Well, yeah, try it. Do the enchanted poster thing. We’ll see how it goes."
She beamed over at me from her perch on the stool and looked down for a second, running a hand over her face. When she looked back up, she was wearing bold red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner.
"How do I look?" she said.
I shrugged. "Great."
That was the kind of magic Lulu typically did—and while she did look great, I’d never seen her do a spell that was actually useful. Maybe she was right. She might benefit from trying new things, building her skills. And having some posters at the train station wouldn’t hurt.
"All right," she said, sliding off her stool and grabbing her purse. "You sure you don’t want to come out with me? Going to the King’s Arms!"
I rolled my eyes. Of course she was going there. There weren’t many other options in town, especially on a Monday, and I knew Lulu had a crush on the lute player at the Arms. He was a nice enough guy, but he couldn’t play the lute.
"I’ll pass," I said. "Have fun though. And work starts—"
"At eight tomorrow," she said, waving me off. "Right, right. Have I ever been late?"
"Yes."
"Well, I always make up the time, right cuz? Byeeee!"
And with that she trotted off into the night, pigtails bobbing with each step she took. I watched her go, sighing as she vanished into the darkness. What were we going to do with Lulu?
"She’s a good kid," Asmo said, hopping up on to the counter. I almost dropped my broom—I hadn’t seen him leave the storeroom. "She works hard. Let her go out."
"I’m not judging."
He twitched his tail. "You’re definitely judging. Are those still warm?"
I looked over at the drinks the pumpkinheads had made. "No idea. You’ll have to try them."
Asmo blinked once, twice—and then leaped high in the air. Black dress shoes hit the ground instead of paws, and a tall man in a black suit stood where the cat had been. He grabbed Hugo’s coffee and drained it in one gulp.
"Hm," he said appraisingly. "Could use a little more coffee in that coffee."
"Some of our customers like their drinks sweet," I said, feeling a bit defensive. "We try to give everyone what they want. Been a while since you took that form."
Asmodeus shrugged. "Being a cat’s more fun."
He sat on the stool that Lulu had just vacated and watched me sweep. "You know, you could just do that with magic. Would be quicker. In fact, you’d probably be done by now."
I gritted my teeth. Asmo could be so annoying. "I like cleaning."
"Uh-huh. Suit yourself."
"I’m almost done, anyway," I said. "I’ll close up soon. You coming back tonight?"
Sometimes Asmo and I ate dinner together in my apartment just across the river. He liked to turn the water into wine just to make me mad. Demons didn’t get drunk, so it made no difference to him.
"Going to go out rat-hunting," he said with a yawn. "Be out late."
Even in his human form, his mannerisms were still cat-like. He’d really spent too much time in that shape.
"Suit yourself," I said, stashing my broom in the back room. "I’m off."
He drank what remained of the coffee while I gathered my things and cleaned the mugs with a snap of his fingers. "That could be you," he said when he saw me looking at him. "Magical cleaning. Saves time. Saves effort."
"Noted," I said. "Come on, let’s go."
He turned back into a cat and dashed off as I locked the front door, leaving me alone in front of the café.
Everyone’s off having fun.
Well, I made my own kind of fun. I took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp night air. Fall was my favorite season. I loved the sound of leaves crunching under my feet, loved the edge on the wind that reminded you winter was just around the corner, loved—well, all of it, really. We did good business in the fall, too. That didn’t hurt.
The Misty River ran straight through the center of town, and Witch’s Brew was right on the water. It was nice looking out the back window and seeing the river—well, really more of a creek this far upstream—and late in the year the sun hit the water at a low angle and cast sparkling ribbons of light into the café. You could watch it ripple across the walls all day. Well, I couldn’t. When the café was open the customers almost ran me off my feet. But I guess someone could.
The trip home was short—just a quick walk over the bridge and around the corner and I was there. I lived on the top floor of an old ramshackle house on Gladstone Street. It was a little shabby in places and things were always breaking, but I liked it that way. Gave the place character. As I crossed the river, I threw a silver coin in the water out of habit. People liked to wish on the Misty River. It was an old town tradition.
