Vampires’ heightened senses were annoying, but it meant I never smelled burnt coffee. They always caught it first. But it made them jumpy if there was someone they didn’t like the sense of.
“I’ll check on him. He’s injured so you could take him out easily. You’re faster than humans, anyway,” I said.
He nodded.
The blood. No wonder Brad was jumpy. He could smell the dried blood on Ryan’s clothing. Even though they’d cleaned up and bandaged his wounds, his clothes were still there.
“Are you eating enough? I know the blood bank stuff isn’t as good as fresh stuff, but with my aunt’s supplements and some extra blood, you’ll be fine.” I patted his arm.
He nodded. “It’s just tempting. Some hunters aren’t so nice, and if I were to feed from a human again…”
“I hear ya, but don’t.” I wagged a finger at him. “I could eat nothing but candy or try meth. But that’s not good for me. Killing humans hurts you.”
“There are parties where humans let you drink. You don’t kill them, just feed,” he said.
“Creepy. And how long do you think you could just feed without going out for a kill the next day?” I asked.
“I understand what you’re saying. But you eat meat,” he said.
“I do. And if you want to stop the blood bank and go for pig’s blood, there’s a butcher up the street. Some vampires prefer that. It’s fresher and not processed. Heat it up and go for it. You’ve got options, but if you kill a human or a cat, I’ll stake you myself.”
He grinned sheepishly. “I won’t. But the blood smell—”
“I’ll handle it.” I took the bag with me downstairs.
“I thought I heard your voice.” Ryan was up and waiting for me.
“Feeling better?” I asked as I pulled a worn pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants from the bag. Digging for more, I retrieved a few T-shirts and set it all on his cot.
“Good enough. I’ll need some of your aunt’s magic in the morning.” He sat up slowly.
“Change into these. I’ll wash your clothes.” I grabbed his jacket from the corner. His shirt was on the other side of the room. I found his pants under the bed.
“I’m not wearing another guy’s underwear.” He tossed the new clothes aside.
“I don’t care if you go commando or stay down here naked. Those are your clothing options. These blood-encrusted rags need to be washed or the vamps will down here for a snack.” I smiled.
He slid off the boxers, and I tried not to look. He was well-defined and muscled. I grabbed his boxers and turned for the stairs.
“Running away so soon?” he teased.
“I’m not running. I want the vamps to calm down, though. The sooner these are in the washer with a lot of soap, the better for you.” I shot him a look.
He grunted and winced as he tugged on the sweatpants. “I’m decent.”
“That’s debatable,” I mumbled.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Did you pull that bandage off your leg?” I asked.
“No. It’s tender but not bleeding through or anything. Wouldn’t want to tempt your friends,” he said.
“You don’t want fight them off. Not in your condition. My aunt probably needs to get you on some natural antibiotic herbs to avoid infection.” I moved closer and put my hand to his forehead. “Yeah, feels like you’ve got a fever.”
“I’m fine. Just having hot dreams about you.” He grabbed my wrist.
“That’s cute. You’re not that hot or charming. You’re sick, and we’re trying to help you.”
He sighed. “You said you didn’t care if I left. Now, you care?”
“No, but my uncle does. If you cooperate and appreciate the help, fine. I’m not going to turn you out to die or land in jail for doing your job. But don’t test me.”
“You’ve sent people to their death? I’ve killed. I’ve looked vamps in the eye and staked them,” he said.
“And I haven’t? I hire vamps. Not every one of them can handle being tame. If my employee slips, I stake them. Or however I see fit. That’s my responsibility.”
“Tough girl. I thought you’d make your uncle handle it,” he said.
“My uncle saved my life when I was kid. I trust him, and I’ll help. But I take care of my own messes. You don’t want to be one of them.” I poked him in the chest with my shimmering purple nail.
“No, I don’t. But I can enjoy the cat-and-mouse game. Do you turn feline like Esmerelda?” he asked.
“Not as a rule. I can transfigure, at times, but I didn’t achieve that young enough to get the nine lives ticket.” I wasn’t proud of that.
“Maybe you’re more of a dog person. Ever tried being a cute little poodle?” he teased.
“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m going. Aunt Mandy will check on you in the morning with breakfast.”
“Night,” he said.
I trudged up the stairs with the bloody clothes and went right for the washer off the kitchen area in the back. Lots of scented detergent, long presoak, heavy wash, and a note on the washer that said Private load—see Claudia before opening.
They could think it was my sexy lingerie or witch’s robes. I just didn’t want the vamps to open it up if all the blood didn’t come out in the first wash.
Brad was waiting for me when I stepped back into the café area.
“The clothes are in the wash. Spray some air freshener and brew some of the gingerbread blend. That has a strong scent,” I suggested.
He nodded. “You’re sure he’s a good hunter?”
“My uncle brought him here. He’s injured enough to not be a threat, now. But I’ll try to check into the case he’s running from to be sure. But it was a werewolf case, and with all the video surveillance, you know hunters are getting hunted by the human police, now,” I said.
“Okay. I can defend myself, but I don’t like the idea of you alone here with him.” He folded his arms.
“Aww, that’s sweet. But I’m not. The shop is always open with staff. Plus…” I held out my hand. The huge knife they used to cut up fruit for our mixers flew from the counter to my hand. “I think I’m good.”
He nodded and took the knife.
“Good work, everyone. I’m heading back to bed,” I said.
The baristas on night shift did the more intense cleaning and restocking. One stayed on the register, just in case. They murmured some sort of response but were all engrossed in their tasks.
As I climbed the stairs, I could smell the blood and sweat from Ryan’s clothes clinging to my shirt. Yuck. As soon as I closed and locked the door to my apartment behind me, I stripped naked and headed for the shower.
Chapter 5
Two days later, I didn’t really want to face the morning. The day before, the hunter was shivering with infection. My offers to take him to urgent care or the ER were met with glares. My aunt’s antibiotic potions always worked on me, but if we’d missed some sort of internal injury or deeper infection…
I’m a witch, not a doctor!
I came down to supervise the morning rush and make myself a morning jolt with a double calming potion.
“Mrs. O’Conner still hasn’t been back,” said the head barista for the shift.
“She wasn’t in yesterday either,” Esmerelda said.
“Don’t worry about her. It might take a week or two, but she gets sick of the chain stores.” I straightened up a bit behind the counter then took my coffee to a quiet corner.
Esmerelda followed me. “You doubt my vision? We won’t see her again.”
“Okay. She’ll find another café she likes better. Do you think our business is in trouble?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I think we just need a couple of signs. If we get your drink wrong, the right one is free. Another that says Hot drinks are scalding, cold drinks are frigid…sip at your own risk. Funny but cover our butts.”
“All the cups are stamped with the warning that contents are served ver
y hot.” I did see the humor in her approach. “But those are funny. Why not?”
“I’ll paint some up.” Esme nodded.
“Maybe one that says Our baristas are only human. If you wish to curse and yell, the owner is a real witch! Please see her.” I laughed.
“Love it.” Esme smiled.
“How is the guest today?” I asked.
Esme’s smile faded fast. “He’s a pain. Apparently, there was a cut in a private area. We let him have some privacy. Well, he didn’t have it cleaned and treated properly, so that’s the infection. Not your aunt’s fault, though she’s blaming herself. Like she was going to judge his thing.”
“Are we sure this werewolf he took out wasn’t his ex-girlfriend?” I joked.
“It is an odd place for a fight injury. Your aunt is on the case now and smearing him head to toe with her enhanced witch hazel. That should help.”
“I just can’t believe he’s worse. I was hoping to be rid of him soon.” I sipped my coffee.
The bell over the door rang, and I glanced over. A man and a woman dressed in suits walked in and surveyed the place. Esmerelda stared at them. If she were in cat form, her back would be arched and she’d be hissing.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m going down to help your aunt.” She left calmly but quickly.
I looked back at the couple. They cut the line and flashed a badge at my head barista, who pointed me out. I took a long drink of my coffee. Was it Ryan? I had been visited once before by the police when a new hire had a sketchy past.
The duo approached me.
“Ms. Crestwood? I’m Detective Keller; this is Detective Shelley. We need to speak to you in private,” said the male cop.
“Sure. Let’s go into my office. Would you like something to drink?” I offered as I refilled my cup with black coffee from the refill station.
“No, thank you,” he replied.
I added some cream and a packet of raw sugar. As we walked to the door marked Private, I stirred my coffee. I didn’t want to alarm any of the staff so I didn’t ask all the questions in my head until I closed the door behind them.
They took the two guest chairs as I settled behind the desk. Normally our accountant was the only whom ever used this office. I wasn’t a desk type but there were times when privacy and professionalism were needed.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“We were made aware of an incident that occurred here a couple of days ago. A customer of yours had coffee spilled on her?” Detective Shelley asked.
I hid my relief that it wasn’t about Ryan. “Iced coffee, yes. The customer was offered towels. It’s not like hot coffee. And she removed the lid; someone bumped into her. We offered to pay for her dry cleaning, her order was free, and she has free coffee for a month. I don’t think I could’ve done more for a relatively minor incident.”
“You know this customer?” Detective Keller asked.
“She’s a regular. Sometimes, she gets annoyed and goes elsewhere for a week or two. But we’re the best.”
“She’s a regular, but your barista got her order wrong?” Detective Shelley asked.
“She changed her order every day to suit her mood. She’d cycle between five different coffee drinks. Cold or hot, depending on the season. The barista misheard that she wanted the drink iced. She really went to the police over a little spilled coffee and a wrong order?” I leaned back in my chair.
“Was she a problem customer?” Detective Keller asked.
“She was particular. Not always pleasant, but some people are bears before they’ve had their caffeine. Nothing we’re not used to. We always made it right if something was wrong. She’d threaten to never come back before. I’d give her a week or a month of free coffee, and she’d come back. I fully expected to see her next week.” I couldn’t believe she’d file a complaint. “What sort of complaint did Mrs. O’Conner file?”
“She didn’t. Mrs. O’Conner was found dead at her home yesterday morning. Her husband was unable to wake her.” Detective Keller sounded as if he was reading the news of the day.
“Dead?” A chill ran down my spine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think she was that old.”
“She wasn’t. Late sixties. However, she was a brittle Type 1 diabetic. She had some health issues as a result, as well as being insulin dependent.”
“Well, as long as it was natural causes. I’m sorry to hear about it. I’m not sure what I can do other than extend the free coffee to her family.” I felt awful for Mrs. O’Conner, but why were the police bothering with a coffee shop?
“Her husband is not convinced it was natural causes. She had spoken to him during the day about how upset she was by your shop. He’s convinced someone did something to harm her or that the extreme stress hastened her death. We’re visiting all the places she was the day before she passed, to be sure. You didn’t notice anything odd? Did she look ill?” Detective Shelley asked.
“No, not at all. She was feisty as ever. On her way to her job at the library, I believe. She was very active and came in nearly every day. Only brought her husband in a few times.” I shrugged.
“Did he like your shop?” Detective Keller asked.
“You’d have to ask him. He said he liked his coffee black and cheap from the pot at home. Mrs. O’Conner said he was military so he’d gotten used to black coffee that was bitter swill. He had no use for tea or fancy coffee drinks. She liked the variety,” I replied.
“Did she make any other threats besides not returning?” asked Detective Kelly.
“Not that I remember. People say things when they’re upset. We try hard to be a good part of everyone’s morning. We know they’re going off to work or school, and even stay-at-home moms need fuel to handle little ones. They want to be on time and have their coffee right. It might seem like nothing compared to solving crime, but a bad experience here can ripple through their day. I’m sorry if we gave Mrs. O’Conner a bad last day.” I still couldn’t fully process that she was gone.
“Did she frequently make comments about you being a witch or Wiccan? About the name of the shop?” Detective Keller asked.
“Oh, that. No, she didn’t mention it much. She’d been a customer for a couple years, now. She complained more when we got a new barista, because she expected them to get everything wrong or they were slower. We tried never to let her have a trainee. This time, I think she was just looking for things to complain about, because we’d done everything to fix the wrong order and spilled coffee. People lash out at the Witch’s Brew name, but there were witch trials in Hartford before Salem. It’s part of the history and a good hook.” I smiled.
Detective Shelley smiled back. “It is. Most people speak highly of your place. Better pricing and service. Welcoming feel.”
“That’s nice to hear,” I said.
“What are these potions on your menu?” Detective Keller asked.
“Those are just a cute themed name for shots like a shot of hazelnut flavor. We have some vitamin, herbs, antioxidants, fruits, and unique flavor mixes. To keep with the theme, my aunt thought calling them potions was a fun way to stand out. Everything is perfectly safe. We have ingredient pamphlets, and it’s on our website.” I opened a drawer and handed them a pamphlet. They weren’t the first to wonder what was in a potion. Like we were secretly selling drugs or something… I wasn’t sure what they doubted, but there was nothing that’d get me in trouble.
“Thank you,” Detective Shelley said as she took the paper.
“So, nothing happened here that could’ve caused her health issues?” Detective Keller asked.
“I’m not a doctor. I’m sure her blood pressure was up from being upset. If she was in any distress, we would’ve called an ambulance. She walked out of here like she owned the place,” I said.
“Did she have words here with anyone specific? You? The barista who served her? Others?” Detective Shelley asked.
“A friend, Esmerelda. She went to get the wrong beverage an
d bumped into Mrs. O’Conner. No one here was out to get her or hurt her. I’m sorry she’s gone, but I don’t know what we can do for you.” I felt like they were circling something but not getting to the point.
“We need to speak to the baristas on duty that morning. As well as this Esmerelda. Just like we’re speaking to you. Mr. O’Conner is convinced that someone hurt his wife, and that it was not natural causes.” Detective Keller frowned.
“If he didn’t insist, is that what you’d assume it was?” I asked.
“A woman of her age and with those health issues, our ME feels the odds are it was natural. Now, he will be performing an autopsy, and there will be a tox screen. They’re a little backed up from the holidays, but they’ll get to it,” replied Detective Shelley.
“I’m sorry. I understand Mr. O’Conner is upset. She was very active, but we never know when our time is up.” I wrote down the staff working that morning.
“So, you didn’t take her threats about Wiccans or witches seriously?” Detective Keller asked.
“We’ve had the odd protester over the years. People don’t mind witch talk at Halloween, but around Easter, we get a few people who need to make a statement. Generally, we talk to them and show we’re not Satan worshippers or anything like that. We have an old belief system, and the point of reminding people that witch trials happened here is so we never have that sort of thing happen, again. We tolerate all religions and races and types of people here. We’re more like nature-loving hippies in a way. We just want to be tolerated. That and some free coffee usually gets them to go home.” I smiled.
“Is there any one of your coven or staff that might take that threat personally? Someone new, maybe?” asked Detective Shelley.
I rolled over the question in my mind. Esme would be the only one to take it personally, but she wasn’t new. She’d never take anything Mrs. O’Conner said to heart, anyway. “No. She was an older woman who was having a bad morning. I train my staff to ignore the moods and the attitudes and focus on the coffee order. Get it right, and the rude customers go away; the happy customers are happier. Get the orders right, and they are rewarded by us. Tipping for coffee is still very hit or miss.”
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