I’m doomed.
“She looks like you left her out in the rain to drown a few times.”
“Yes, there’s rust, and the ignition doesn’t always start the first time I turn the key, but once she’s going, she’s good.” I pat her hood before opening my door.
Bellanore hesitates. She places a hand on Lucile and walks around the front, still holding on. With a bit of a stumble, she jerks her door open, and I wince.
“Yeah, it gets stuck. I should’ve opened the door for you. I’m sorry.”
She just sits down, and my words make her stiffen. I’m positive she’s considering climbing right back out. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you want me to walk you back to your castle because you want me to know where you live.”
Bellanore snorts. “All you have to do is use your nose. You’ve smelled me enough to know my scent.”
It’s true. I do know her scent—woodsy and cinnamon. Half the reason why I thought of Cinnamon Chance is because of her scent. There’s also a hint of smoke to her today that she doesn’t normally have.
“I won’t come to your castle unless you invite me,” I promise.
“You’re making yourself sound like a vampire.”
I let out a laugh even though we both know that take humans have conjured about vampires needing to be invited in as nothing more than a myth.
My hand shoves the key into the ignition, but I don’t turn it.
“What are you waiting for?”
Counting in my head, I exhale a breath. “You to buckle.”
“You can turn the key first.”
I hesitate a moment longer, still mentally counting.
“Are you that afraid I’ll bail?” she asks accusingly.
Sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five.
I turn the key, the ignition starting, dying, and then flaring to life. A large grin sweeps across my face.
“She tends to turn on more times than not if I wait for a little over a minute after I put the key in before I turn it,” I explain. “Buckle up, though, please. I tend to drive a bit fast.”
“Like a Cullen?” She huffs and moves to buckle herself.
“Like what?”
“Do you live under a rock?” she asks curiously.
“No, but I lived in a cave for some time.”
She jerks as if stung by a bee. I’m not sure why my admission shocked her so much, but I myself am shocked.
Why am I telling her about that? It’s none of her business.
After a moment, she buckles. I did as soon as I climbed into the car. Force of habit or at least it's become a force of habit. The fifth time I drove with Lucile, when I was just ten, I hit a rock. My tire blew, and my car jerked off the road and careened down a hill. I hadn't worn a seatbelt, and I went straight through the windshield. The current windshield is actually my fourth one. I bought Lucile myself for my tenth birthday and by bought, I mean I convinced the junkyard owner not to crush her. I'd been begging him for months, and in that time, I squirreled away from other junked and abandoned cars the parts I would need if he ever did break. Turns out, I can wear just about anyone down, even Fred the Frowner as I called him behind his back.
The only time I saw him smile was when I proved him wrong and drove off with Lucile.
“Why do you want that junker for?” Fred asked. “The owner had it towed here. Didn’t come to get the plates or magnets from the back or nothing. Even he knew it was worthless. It’s not drivable.”
“It can be,” I argued stubbornly.
“Tell you what. If you can get her to drive off this lot, you can have her for your tenth birthday, but then you stay out of my hair, you hear?”
Here’s the thing. Fred’s bald.
I have stayed out of his hair, though, but I do try to swing by the junkyard every now and then and leave hard candy on his desk. One day, he’ll find gummies instead. I wonder if he knows the hard candies are from me, but I’m figuring he’s getting up there in age. Soon enough, he’ll have dentures. He won’t be able to have the hard candies anymore. Wait, are gummies a good idea with dentures? I’m not so sure about that. Oh, well. I’ll figure something out.
Or I won’t. The curse will probably land me into a grave sooner than Fred will be buried.
With a grimace, I start to drive. We’re silent. My thoughts are far too dark for idle conversation, and who knows what she’s thinking about, although I am curious about her reaction to my mentioning a cave. Why did that freak her out and set her on edge? Does it have anything to do with the scent of smoke that clings to her like a second skin?
I subtly crack the windows, no more than an inch. Any lower, and they tend to get stuck. The back window on the passenger side can't go down at all, or else it'll slip off its track and go all the way down, and it's a pain to get it back up again. Best to leave it up forever and ever.
Yes, Lucile is wounded, a driving disaster, but she’s mine. I’m not even sure what year she is. That doesn’t matter. Oh, and the odometer doesn’t go up anymore, so it says that she’s permanently at one-hundred thousand and eighty-two miles. I’ve put a ton more miles on her, though, so who knows? She might’ve crossed two-hundred thousand at some point.
The Cinnamon Chance is a small hole in the wall, a junker by the looks of it, but Bellanore says nothing. Her face is really pale, paler than normal, and She seems to have to almost swing to gain momentum to be able to propel herself out of Lucile. She’s too proud for me to make the mistake of offering her assistance, but I do hold the door open for her.
“This had better be good,” she mumbles as she passes me.
She hesitates by the door, and I almost place a hand on the small of her back before pointing to the nearest booth. The place is dead, but it only just seems that way. The Cinnamon Chance is all about privacy, and the moment we sit in the booth, curtains close, and I can just hear the faint whine of the mechanism that moves us down so that the first booth is always empty.
A moment later, a fairy comes in. With purple hair in a mohawk on one side of her head, the other half shaved, she’s a stunner.
“Well, I’ll be, if it isn’t Robb Aline.” She puts her hands on her hips and does a cocky move with her head.
“Rhonda Rainbow, where’s the rainbow?”
She rolls her eyes. “I got too tired of it.”
“Of what?” Bellanore asks.
“Oh, hi. I’m Rhonda.” The fairy reaches over and grabs Bellanore’s hand for a vigorous shake. “My hair used to be all the colors, galaxy style, you know? But not with any of the colors of the rainbow. Off colors like turquoise and lilac and whatnot. Black, white, silver… But even so, everyone called it rainbow for my last name. Hello! Not rainbow colored!” She shrugs. “It got irritating.”
I can’t help laughing.
“Shut it, you,” Rhonda says sharply.
Bellanore glances from the fairy to me, her eyebrows raised.
“I told her not to dye her hair like that, to do two colors at most, but no, Rhonda knew best.”
“Who knew I should take fashion sense from a mauled werewolf?” Rhonda shrugs again. “So, what can I get you?”
I just laugh, and she winks. “I mean drinks.”
“Water will be fine,” Bellanore murmurs, but she seems confused.
“Water’s fine for me too.”
Rhonda winks at me and then Bellanore and flies off.
“I don’t understand what just happened,” Bellanore mutters to herself. “You two seem close.”
“We’re just friends. She has a steady boyfriend for about five months now.”
“Five months isn’t all that long.”
“Most guys don’t last longer than two months with her.”
“She gets bored of them easily?”
“You got it.”
Rhonda appears with our drinks and plates. Mine contains some kind of pastry-type thing, whereas there's a massive muffin on Bellanore's plate.
�
�We, ah…” Bellanore’s confusion is back in full force.
“You’ve never been here before!” Rhonda exclaims, clapping her hands together. “And I didn’t do the whole spiel. I’m sorry. I’m blaming this on Robb, though. He so should have told you already. Anyhow, here at Cinnamon Chance, you get to take a chance on whatever the cook feels like whipping up. Our chef is known for using cinnamon in every dish, and there’s even a chance that you might get a little extra magical kick in your food.” She giggles and then sighs. “Rufus is in an eh mood today, so I wouldn’t have high hopes for a boost, but he knows better than to slip anything not too nice in any of the meals because of that one incident.”
“Wait. I didn’t hear about this,” I cut in.
“Rufus’ girlfriend broke up with him, and we told him not to come in, to take some time off, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted the distraction, but the customers claimed that they couldn’t stop crying, that they had the uncontrollable urge to fight with their significant others… We pay more attention to his moods now to make sure nothing like that happens for business. Some of those people have never come back again.” She shakes her head before beaming. “Enjoy!”
And she dashes off. Fairies. They’re so… flighty.
Chapter 14
Robb
I watch Bellanore with interest to see what she thinks of her breakfast. She eyes her plate with skepticism and possibly disappointment.
“I just get a muffin?” she grumbles.
“I would offer to switch, but the meals are made special for us.”
“How so?”
“Rhonda or whichever fairy tends to the customers tells Rufus about us, what we are, our appearance, our demeanor, our attitude, that kind of thing.”
“She reads us and relays to him, and he makes us something based on that?” she assumes.
“You got it. Don’t worry. It’s always excellent, magical boost or not.”
Bellanore breaks off a crumb and tosses it into her mouth.
“Well?”
“Cinnamony.” She chews a bit more, and her face changes drastically, her color returning.
“How do you feel?” I ask cautiously.
“I think it’s healing me more than just nourishing me. I feel better.”
“You teleported too far away?” I guess.
She hesitates. “Too many times.”
Hmm. I wonder who she was visiting.
I try my pastry. Whatever it is, it’s delicious, and we take our time, enjoying the meal, and when Rhonda returns with the check, I grab it.
“I’ll pay.”
“I can pay for me,” Bellanore protests.
“Nonsense. I drove. I suggested the place. It’s a date. I’m paying.”
“Whoa, hold up there, bucko. Who said this is a date?”
“I did. Actually, you want to stay and have dessert? It’s always incredible here.”
“No. No, I don’t want dessert, and this isn’t a date,” she scoffs.
“Fine. This isn’t a date, but you will date me,” I insist.
“Not on your life,” she retorts.
I wince at that particular phrasing, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
She removes her wallet and places a few coins on the table. “And for what it’s worth…” She pushes up the cuff of her cardigan, stares at her watch, winces, and stands. “We’ve been here far too long. I’m going to—”
I grab her arm before she can teleport away. “Why won’t you date me? Is it because of your dad?”
Her eyes widen, and she sits back down. “If you must know… No, it’s not because of my dad.”
"Then, why?"
She blows out a breath and stares at me. “It’s because I can’t trust you.”
“Why not?” I demand. “What have I done that’s so untrustworthy?”
“You won’t tell the truth,” she mumbles.
“About?”
“Your scar.”
I make a face. “You haven’t even asked me a question about my scar. You’re just making an assumption, and you know what happens when you assume.”
“It makes an ass out of you and ‘mption,” she says with a slight smile.
“Very cute.” I eye her and cross my arms.
Rhoda comes back and notices that there’s not enough money on the table. She turns to me, hands on hips again. It’s her favorite pose, I swear it is.
“We’ll have dessert,” I tell her sweetly.
Her eyes light up. "Oh, really?" She actually hops away.
Bellanore drums her fingers on the table, but I hold up a finger. A moment later, two plates appear on the table, which has been cleared off except for the bill and Bellanore's coins. Two napkins appear. Two forks. And then another plate perfectly between us of puffy dough pillows smothered in butter and dipped in cinnamon sugar.
Honestly, I don’t know why we were given forks because there aren’t any knives, so I just nod for her to pick one up. She does, and a dust trail of cinnamon sugar falls back onto the plate. Quickly, she brings it over to her plate, and she leans over to take a bite. More dust falls, and it coats her lips as she chews. Her eyes close briefly, and the smile on her face is perfect.
Something almost burns in my chest. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s gone a second later.
“Are you going to ask your question now?” I inquire.
“No. We can enjoy dessert first,” she says eagerly. Then, she gives me a shy smile. “I’ve never had dessert after breakfast before.”
“At a place like this, it’s more than acceptable.”
“Oh, yes!”
So we enjoy our delicious dessert, although I find myself watching her more than I eat. Once she realizes that she’s indulged more than I have, her cheeks turn pink, but I just laugh and let her have the last one.
Once she finishes, she uses her napkin to wipe off her mouth, a regular Miss Manners. Then, she clears her throat. “So, Robb, you’re right. I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about your scar and how you got it because you were so miffed that I accidentally—”
“You did not accidentally stare at it,” I claim.
“I didn’t mean to stare,” she protests. There’s a hint of honesty to her tone.
And that’s when I opt to tell her the truth. As we ate dessert, I wrestled with myself, going back and forth. Already, I leaned on the side of telling her, but now, there’s no mistaking what I’m about to say.
“It’s all right. I get it a lot.”
“No, it’s clearly not all right, and it shouldn’t be. It’s very personal, and—”
“A drow did it,” I interrupt.
“A dark elf?” she asks, her eyes widening in shock.
“I know. Not very highbrow of them, right?”
“Why? Why would you fight a dark elf?” She leans forward, elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. It’s a perfect picture of inquisitiveness and marvel. She looks spellbound.
And if I’m not careful, maybe I’ll become spellbound. I love the way she’s looking at me with interest.
But no. It’s not love. That feeling is shut off to me. I’m merely feeding off her emotion because I can’t feel any of my own.
“I fought the dark elf because he…”
“What did he do?”
“He killed someone I loved,” I say.
It’s the truth, yes, but not all of it.
“Who?” she asks softly.
“My father.”
“Robb, I’m so sorry.”
“My father, my mother, my brother. My friends,” I continue, but even that isn’t all of it.
“Robb!” Her hands cover her mouth. She mumbles something, but I don’t catch it.
“So, yes, I provoked the attack. I went after him, and he gave me this.” I close my wounded eye, essentially winking at her.
“Did you kill him?” she asks roughly. “I would’ve.”
“I did.”
Bellanore nods, and that’s it. She doesn’t judge
me, doesn’t condemn me for killing someone. She just leaves it be.
And my esteem of her rises even more.
We pay, and I drive us back to campus. Our conversation is light-hearted, and she’s witty and charming, but then, I shouldn’t be surprised. Most demons are charming and persuasive. That’s how they’re able to draw in their prey, how they make blood pacts and other deals signed in blood, how they can acquire souls.
When I park, I turn to her. “Can I kiss you?” I ask, surprising myself with the bold question.
Bellanore giggles.
“Is that a yes?” I lean over toward her.
She places a hand on my chest. “Slow your roll, Romeo. Maybe one day.”
“One day?”
“After a real date.”
“That mean I get a yes for a date then?” I ask.
“I suppose so. That’s your win for the morning.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Good, because that’s all you’re getting.”
“Maybe it’s all I need.”
“Hmm.” A slow smile curls her lips. “I had a good morning,” she says softly.
“I did too. The first in a long while.”
She bites her lower lip as if wrestling with herself before blurting out, “You don’t have to hang out with them, you know.”
“And you don’t have to antagonize them either,” I point out.
“Touché, but it’s a matter of pride.”
“You part lion?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs.
“No, there’s no maybe about it. You’re definitely a lioness. That’s why you don’t’ let them get to you.”
“They get to me some.”
“Don’t let them win.”
“I’m trying not to. Most days, they don’t. Not that they come after me every day, but…”
I want to talk to her about her dad, about his being a demon. I need a foot into that dark world where demons live, and I don’t mean Hell. I mean on Earth, but it’s been a good morning, and this conversation is already turning a little darker than I would like.
“If they give you a hard time,” I start.
“They can say what they want, call me what they want—”
“Princess of Light.”
Moonstone Academy: Year One: A Mayhem of Magic World Story Page 9
