Page 7 of Charmed, I'm Sure
“Fair, but either way, I’m getting off here and heading to grab that stuff before I sit in the room you’ve forced me into.”
“Love you too, Bells,” she says before she hangs up.
I glare at my screen before snatching it from the counter and heading into my closet. What can I put on today that will be cozy, yet spooky?
Grabbing my long, sleeveless black dress, I lean over and grab my deep evergreen cardigan and black ankle boots. There. That will do it.
Nyx is curled up in his fluffy bed by the fireplace, a typical spot you can find him if he isn’t underneath my feet. He barely peeks his eye open as I walk into the living room, grabbing my over-the-shoulder bag.
“Why are you awake so early on a Saturday? I thought it was wrong to disturb people before noon on weekends,” Nyx grumbles as he stretches.
“Yeah, well, Elora volunteered me to help the planning committee for Samhain this year. Something about it being a Grimsbane tradition or…something like that.”
“Fine,” he mumbles as he finishes his stretch. “Looks like we have to go out and socialize.”
We have only been outside for a few minutes and I already want to turn around. It’s too bright and the damn crows are already gossiping.
“Why is the evil twin out so early on a Saturday?”
Caw! “Should we be worried that the world is ending?”
“Someone is going to get hexed today—beware!”
I glare at them as they sit on the streetlight across the street from me. I’ve not even had my coffee yet and they are already talking their shit.
It’s a short walk from my house in coven territory to the downtown shops. The luxury, I suppose, of living in a small community. Each magical group has their own section of housing that backs the main shop area. While they each have some shops in their own areas, these central shops are open to everyone, no matter what species you are.
Hex & Harken Cafe is my stomping ground if I’m not at my shop, Curios & Curses, or home with my grimoires.
The thing about the cafe is that they not only have the best scones in town, at least in my opinion. But, they have live music that can give you a pretty relaxing environment. Don’t tell anyone, but it’s one of my favorite things in life—listening to people pour their souls into the musical notes filling the air. Oftentimes I can watch as their aura will melt from a deep red to a mustard yellow. Telling me they were able to let go of whatever was weighing on their soul.
Myrtle, the elder faerie who owns the cafe, greets me as soon as I open the glass door into her shop. The soft jazz tunes are playing in the background as the scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and baked goods wraps around me. Her glass display cases feature an array of baked goods, from scones to muffins to entire pies, if that is what you are looking for.
“Your usual again today?” Her warm, aged voice always seems to caress my soul. Even if it’s blackened and cold, as most people think it is.
“Yeah.” I look around the case for my orange and cranberry scone. “I don’t see my scone. Did you sell out already?”
She ducks her head a little as she winces.
“I’m sorry Bellamy, I’m afraid I sold the last one earlier.”
My nostrils flare. I’ll just add this to the list of reasons I don’t do mornings especially on Saturdays. “That’s fine Myrtle. I’ll justtake my coffee then,” I grumble as I hand over my card to her.
It doesn’t take her long to make my Hot Apple Cinnamon Machiatto. She makes the absolute best drinks I’ve ever had. Not that I really have anything to compare it to since I’ve never lived anywhere else.
Grabbing my coffee, I head out the door to the committee meeting being held at our town hall. It’s not much of a town hall, just a building central to all the different groups living here. Call it the safe zone if you will, but the building was built as a place that different species could meet without entering into the others’ territories. From what I hear, when the town was first founded, we didn’t live as civilly as we do now.
It doesn’t take me long to walk down the street to the town hall. The streets are bustling with activity. Every business is gearing up for the day with window displays being refreshed, sidewalks swept, and doors propped open for customers.
The stone steps leading to the entrance of the building are teeming with gourds, flowers, and a few stray leaves that haven’t been swept away yet. Climbing the three massive steps, I push open the wide wooden door into the foyer lined with generational photos. Going back as far as the founding of our town all the way up to the most recent years.
The faint chatter from the main meeting room drifts through the air as my boot heels click against the wood floors. Seems I’m the last person to show up and I’m actually on time. Damn people who like mornings.
Turning right when I reach the main room, I walk through the open door leading into one of the larger meeting rooms only to findhim.
He’s mid bite of a scone when my eyes find him. Is that…? My eyes flick down to the ceramic plate sitting on the table in front of him. Roaming over the beautifully delicious baked good sitting half eaten in front of him, I realize one thing.
Miles is the reason I don’t have my cranberry orangescone this morning. He’s robbed me of the deliciousness and one joy that I have with being up this early, especially on a Saturday.