by CC Dragon
Brad handed me my tea.
“Thanks,” I said.
The line had gone down with the twins behind the counter. They were experts.
Iris and Violet came over. “Is he cute?”
They were freaky good at being in unison. I envied that they were never alone.
“Cute, full of himself, and dangerous,” I said. “Stay away.”
“Come on, that’s just mean,” Violet said.
“It’s the truth.” I tried to ignore the tingle still running through me. He was a bad boy hunter, and yet, I liked the attention. Thankfully, the twins had too many people looking out for them. “At barely eighteen, you two need to get degrees and careers—not entangled with hunters.”
“College boys are no better. They want to screw everything, and then, it’s over. At least a hunter risks his life for something that matters. He understands loyalty and dedication,” Iris said.
“I’d rather see everyone working to bring the vampires and weres into harmony with humans. We can make it possible for them to be safe and live with us. I want hunters to have less work.” I sipped my tea.
Iris checked her phone. “We better head to class. But you should stay away, Claudia. Really, he’s not our type of hunter.”
“So?” I asked.
She stared at her phone. “They don’t always get gypsy ways or witches. You don’t want him to pick up on anything.”
Violet bumped her sister. “Pick up on what?”
Iris shook her head. “Nothing. Hunters always want an advantage. This guy doesn’t know us or trust us, so keep your guard up, like you told us to do. That’s all. Gotta go. Bye.”
“Bye,” Violet said with a shrug.
“Bye, study!” I called. Iris seemed to know something I didn’t. Vi didn’t seem to be in on it either. Maybe Iris was being paranoid, but Aunt Mandy had wanted me away from the guy, as well. Why?
“More tea, boss?” Brad asked.
“No, thanks. Do you have any old clothes you’d like to donate? It’s for a homeless men’s shelter. My aunt said they were low.” Lying was part of the game, but Brad might freak and run if he knew a hunter was one floor below him.
“I’ll look. I’m on again for the night shift, so I’ll bring them by. It’s okay if I clock out?” he asked.
“Perfect.” I noticed his replacements walking in the door. Lifting my cup in acknowledgement, I took a deep breath. The hunter guy would leave, and a new crisis would pop up. It was all how we handled them.
I noticed my aunt’s inspirational quote of the day on the board. “Cherish now…there won’t be another.”
There was no arguing with that. Still, I envied Esmerelda. I’d tried to do the cat thing when I was seven and again at nine. Transfiguring into a cat was just not my area. I left that to Esmerelda and Professor McGonagall. Apparently, you had to start the transfiguring routine before puberty for it to stick and the nine lives to take hold.
Then again, did I want to see this world for the next seven hundred or more years? That seemed daunting. I’d do the best I could and enjoy my time. The crew this shift were all experienced, so I headed up the spiral stairs to our cozy reading nook. Fluffy chairs and sofas flanked shelves of books, much like the first-floor seating area.
We let the regulars go up here when it was crowded on the first floor. There was another room there with all of the coven’s needs that was always locked.
I straightened the books and plumped the pillows. A couple of black cats yawned and stretched. They were actual cats; Esmerelda used them as decoys when she turned human. I stroked their fur and found the treat box.
In the midst of my cat time, I heard the raspy voice of Mrs. O’Conner. Petting the cats again, I absorbed their purring vibrations to calm me. Some of our regulars weren’t so easy to please—and some, like Mrs. O’Conner, I wished would go to the Starbucks two blocks over.
2
Mrs. O’Conner was a regular. A woman in her sixties who wanted things her way. Her bright red wool coat was dusted with snowflakes as she grouched at my barista.
If only my aunt or cousins were working, they knew how to soothe our grumbly customer. She wasn’t the only one who was hard to please, but she liked to argue. I sort of admired her; the woman had to be around retirement age, but she was out every day doing something. She came in seven days a week.
“No, not iced!” Mrs. O’Conner snapped.
I reluctantly went down the stairs. The barista was experienced, but the woman never ordered the same drink two days in a row.
“Ma’am, you asked for the spiced cold brew. Did I hear you wrong?” The barista was experienced enough not to take it personally. She was a middle-aged woman who needed to get out of the house once her husband had retired. I hung back to see how they hashed it out.
“Hot. I want the spiced cold brew hot.” Mrs. O’Conner shrugged.
“Okay. I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you say hot.” The barista turned back and worked on the odd order.
“I better not be late to work,” Mrs. O’Conner said.
“Then, get here earlier.” Esmerelda darted up from the basement in human form and grabbed some stuff from behind the counter. She and Mrs. O’Conner snarked at each all the time.
“I’m sorry for the trouble, Mrs. O’Conner. Your drink is on the house,” I said.
“What’s wrong with it?” Esme rounded the counter and approached as Mrs. O’Conner took the lid off.
“It’s iced.” Mrs. O’Conner held it out and started to turn.
“I’ll take it.” Esmeralda got a little too close and bumped our customer’s arm. The cold liquid and ice hit Mrs. O’Conner mostly.
“Crap,” I whispered to myself.
“You did that on purpose!” Mrs. O’Conner snapped.
“No, I was trying not to waste a perfectly good drink. I’m sorry.” Esme grabbed a towel from a barista and handed it to Mrs. O’Conner.
“Can everyone calm down, please?” I nudged Esmerelda. “You have work to do.”
“Fine. Send down coffee when you can.” Esme stalked off.
I took the iced coffee and threw it away. “We’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”
“I hope I don’t catch a cold from this chill. I should get my nephew to sue you.” She took the hot cup of coffee.
“For a chill?” I asked. “Would free coffee for a month make this up to you?”
“It’s a start. I should find a real coffee shop, not some little witchy joke. Potions,” she scoffed.
“If you get the Starbucks app, you can order ahead, and they have it in writing,” I suggested.
She glared at me. “You want me to go elsewhere?”
“I want my customers to be happy. This shop is an alternative to the chains. There’s a Dunkin Donuts in the other direction. They have an app, too. We have potions and customize drinks. More flavors. More blends. You might need some calming tea instead of coffee, but that’s your choice.” I had a wide variety of customers. College kids who wanted to be counter culture. Hipsters who rejected the prestige of the brands…at times. People with illnesses came in for customer brewed healing teas from my aunt.
As long as we covered our bills, I was happy. I wasn’t about competition with the big chains. Losing one customer who made others uneasy wasn’t going to upset me that much.
She shook a crooked finger at me. “You’ll never see me here, again.”
When the door closed, some of the customers clapped. I sighed and saw the relief in the smiles of my baristas. There were plenty of places to grab coffee.
“Everyone in line gets a free biscotti or muffin for the wait. I’m running next door to get some soup and stuff. There’s a friend staying the basement spare room,” I said.
The baristas would find out eventually when they needed supplies.
I swung into the soup and sandwich place that opened early for breakfast sandwiches.
“Hi, Claudia, your order is ready.” Fred was a sweet guy pushing thirty. Hi
s shop had homemade bread and soups. The smell alone made me give up the idea of ever going no carb.
“Thanks. Can you add a couple of grilled cheeses and a turkey, ham and Swiss to those? Plus a couple pints of the potato soup?” I might as well get lunch for me, Aunt Mandy, and Esme since they’d be tired from working on the hunter.
“Anything for you.” He went to work. “They say there’s a snowstorm coming. You ready?”
“Always ready. It’s New England.” I shrugged. “Soup weather. Business good?”
I had vamps to shovel the sidewalk, and they didn’t mind the cold. I had an awesome collection of knee high and thigh high boots with soles that gripped well. I was tall enough; heels weren’t necessary. I liked heels, but in winter, I could leave them.
“Business is good. I wish I had some ancestral witch connection to market like you do. It’s genius. The witch’s brew.” He complimented me on the name of my shop all the time. But about business. He had the oddest ways of flirting I’d even seen. The guy was nice, good-looking, hardworking, but human. No wizard potential. No power.
Probably what I should be looking for, only it did nothing for me.
He hit buttons on the cash register display. “And the friends and family discount,” he said so I could hear.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, just like every other time.
“We small businesses have to stick together. You’ve got coffee chains surrounding you. I’ve got all sorts of sandwich shop chains. Subway has soups, now. We will survive. My grandparents opened this shop.” He looked around fondly.
“I know we’ll survive. Come by for some coffee later, on the house. You can’t live on soup,” I teased him.
“Thanks. I just give you a discount; you give it away.” He took my credit card and ran it through.
I signed the slip, put my card away, grabbed my big order and headed for the door. I could’ve gotten it myself, but there was Fred opening the door for me.
“Thanks.” I left and really wished I could tell Fred that I was a serious witch. Humans just weren’t my thing. I wanted to be a powerful witch, and a guy without powers seemed dull. Of course, the flip side was that power sometimes tempted people to the dark magics.
A powerful wizard with a sense of right and wrong; was that so hard to find? Maybe it was.
I surrounded myself with ethical checks and touchstones to keep me from enjoying my powers too much that I crossed that imaginary line to the dark.
A customer held the door for me, and I slipped inside. “Thanks.”
Aunt Mandy was taking a tea break and grabbed some of the bags. We headed in the back behind the counter through the door to the kitchen. There was a break room there, as well as the usual dishwashers and sinks.
“How’s he doing?” I asked.
“More hurt than he’ll admit. I think he needs more than one healing session. There must be internal injuries.” She collected some food and other essentials. She took Esme’s food, as well.
“Esme can come up and eat,” I said.
“She wants to keep an eye on him. He’s tried to break free twice. She had to put a spell on him twice. He wants to leave,” she said.
“Let him,” I replied.
“He’s hurt. I think he’s afraid of witches, quite honestly. Most hunters have had a bad para experience that drives them to keep the peace and seek justice,” she said.
“And some just like an excuse to kill,” I added.
“He says you treated him like a prisoner,” she said.
“He’s full of crap. Scared and lashing out. Get going or your grilled cheese will be cold.” I unwrapped my meat heavy sandwich.
Another thing my hippie aunt couldn’t convert me to: vegetarianism. I found paper bowls for the soup and poured myself some. I grabbed a fruity mixer drink from the fridge that turned out to be a sample of a new flavor. Strawberry Kiwi Grape with some green tea extract.
Aunt Mandy returned with a stern look.
“What did I do, now? I’m just sitting here.” She might as well be my mom. Part of me still felt bad for my teenage years when that was my go to excuse for being a bit wild and rebellious.
“Esme says Mrs. O’Conner wasn’t happy today.”
“She only likes you or the twins. The woman is hard to please. Normally, they get it right, but Esme is the one who splashed the coffee on her. Iced coffee, thankfully.” I didn’t want to think about the hot coffee lawsuit threats.
“She needs to rest. She needs some cat time. I’ve worked her too hard this morning.” Aunt Mandy grabbed a juice and sat down.
“She’s a really strong witch.” I rolled my eyes.
“And that hunter was in really bad shape. Still is. He could’ve bled out. Vin should’ve taken him to the hospital.” She took a bite of her grilled cheese, and it helped her relax.
“I told him that. I didn’t examine the guy too closely—he was all flirty and weird. But those leg wounds…” I shrugged.
“Herbs and magic can’t solve everything. Maybe he tangled with more than one werewolf. Is that why you think he’s not being totally truthful?” my aunt asked.
I added crackers to my soup. “I don’t know. He’s not local. He needs to go back where his people are,” I said.
“He tracked the werewolf through the Carolinas, but if he goes back, they’ll arrest him. Let Vin manage him.” Aunt Mandy finished off her sandwich and started on some soup.
“He tends to take on more than he should and help other hunters. He needs to find some home for wayward hunters and park this guy there.” I took a big bite of my sandwich.
My aunt eyed the sandwich. “You don’t mind helping werewolves. Why resist helping hunters?”
“They’re human. They have everyone out there to help them. I get he’s running from a charge that isn’t fair, but he can go to the hospital here. Where he can be treated in the best way. Then, he could move on. He’s far enough away from the scene of the crime. He’s a drain on us and trouble,” I said.
“Your uncle was trouble back in the day.” She smiled like a schoolgirl in love.
“What made you and Mom want to marry hunters?” I asked.
She went a bit pale and took a drink of her juice. “I was intrigued by the gypsy culture. I thought it was just expanding my horizons with friends, but it turned into more. Vin has a good code of ethics. Not all hunters do, I admit it.”
“And my dad?” I asked.
“Well, he wasn’t a gypsy. Your mom met him through Vin. Hunters are always running into each other on a case. Your dad handled some very dangerous vampire nests. He always tried to get the lone ones to accept help. Your mom was trying to find a way to give that help. I mean, she had the potion for werewolves not to turn. But vampires needed to feed. It took time. You’ve advanced their goals. But we all take a risk,” she said.
It was nothing I hadn’t heard before. She never gave too many details. I’d asked many times over the years for more info, but it upset her. She lost her sister; I lost my parents. For me, it was a blurry memory of a big black werewolf. She’d lost her friend since childhood. I hated to push and upset her.
“Risk like that hunter. Next time Mrs. O’Conner comes in, I’ll make sure you serve her. It’s the only way to keep her happy,” I said.
“Esme said she won’t be back,” Aunt Mandy replied.
“She always comes back. I offered her free coffee for a month. She’ll be back in a day or two, complaining about the other places.” I laughed.
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but Esme seemed very pleased and sure of her prediction. I should go relieve her. Let her get a real nap without keeping one eye on that kid,” she said.
“I’ll clean up, check on things out front, and then start the healing potion.” I took a drink of my fruit mixer.
“Good. But I agree with what you said earlier today. Keep the twins away from him. You should avoid him, too,” Aunt Mandy said.
“Why me?” I asked. “Iris
acted the same way. Like I should avoid him. What’s the problem? What don’t I know?”
My aunt swallowed hard. “I don’t know what she meant. You tend to take on the toughest jobs, and perhaps, she thinks you need a break. Have some fun. Esme can babysit him. She’s seen men flirt for over a century. Nothing will get by her.”
“I thought Esme took on some more witches for her private magic tutoring. She’s got to be busy with them. Plus, he’s in my shop. I have to be able to handle him if he acts up in the night.” I shrugged.
“I know, and of course you can in a pinch. He’s just the type who wants all the attention he can get, and he’ll play games. Don’t feed that. The vampires can overpower him if he acts up. Just lock him up. Esme may have more clients, but she’ll always make time for you.” Aunt Mandy patted my arm.
“Lock him up? What have you done with my hippie, always kind aunt who thought locking the cats out of the café level was cruel?” Something wasn’t adding up.
She smiled weakly. “I want to trust everyone, but your instincts said you didn’t trust him. I believe in your instincts. We need to help him but not let him cause trouble in our lives. Everything is connected, and he could cause waves of good or storms of bad. As soon as he shows signs of the bad, he must be contained. The cages are safe for werewolves—there’s nothing dangerous about locking the cage to be sure he does what Vin thinks is best. Young hunters are impulsive and rash. He could run off too soon and get hurt again or an infection take over because he’s weak. It’s for his own good. Sometimes, we have to do bad things for the greater good.”
I knew when to stop arguing. “That’s quite a speech. Fine, if he acts up, the cage. The vamps will put him there. Just the odd well check and food delivery.”
“Vamps can do that, too. I don’t think we need to get too close to this hunter,” she said.
“You don’t want any of your girls marrying hunters?” I teased.
She waved me off with a chuckle and grabbed another juice before she left.
