Page 1 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest

T here’s a kelpie heart on the market.

Now there’s a phone message that will get a girl going. It was from Finneas, my fence. I immediately sent a message back, “Who has it?!”

“Well, it’s not exactly on the market yet. Word is that the witch on Briar Street took one out recently.”

I rolled my eyes and sent my fingers flying across the keyboard. “So, she’s just holding it? Does she have any idea how valuable that is?”

A minute later, my phone pinged again, “Either she does and she’s holding it in case the owner wants it back or she doesn’t and could be convinced by a certain nymph to circulate it. Either way, there’s someone who wants it back enough to pay handsomely for it.”

So that was his angle. I was a talker, sure enough, but any witch worth her salt would know that the kelpie’s ability to shapeshift translated to all of their tissues. Combined with some medicines on the market, some of the worst diseases could be eradicated or at least kept at bay.

I pushed back my navy blue hair and chewed my lip, thinking about my response. Finally I sent him back, “Maybe. I’d need proof this is real. I’m not going to get fooled by some livestock heart sacrifice, not again. Then I’ll consider it.”

“Done.” I triumphantly clicked my phone off and pushed the covers off.

One of the benefits of my day job was being able to sleep in.

Serving coffee and pastries wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs but it was a living.

Besides, I’d never planned to stay at the coffee shop long term.

If this sale was real and it went through, I could afford a house, maybe on an island somewhere. Everything and anything.

I meandered around my small one-bedroom to the kitchen and put the phone on the charger. I hit the on button for my coffee maker and looked outside. It was a cool enough day for September. My neighbors, the Millers, a group of sprites, were hurrying to get their kids in their van for school.

After an admittedly long shower, I looked at the clock and started to panic. Shit, I’m going to be late. I pulled on the unofficial uniform of The Magical Beans, a black top and jeans (apron to be added later), then pulled on some black boots.

I poured my coffee into a waiting thermos and grabbed my keys, hastening down the stairs into a sprint. On a good day, it’s a fifteen-minute walk; no need for a car, the fresh air will do nicely. On a bad day, it’s an eight-minute mad dash while trying not to burn myself with my own thermos.

There was the customary line. I weaved through to the front and lifted the counter to squeeze in.

“Hey Marie,” I said breathlessly. I flung on my apron and tied my long hair into a quick braid.

“Cora, oh thank the gods you’re on time.” She was pouring hot coffee for a customer. She took their money, clicking buttons on the register. “She’s in one of her moods this morning.”

I groaned and sipped my own coffee, clocking in directly at 9am.

“What’s she doing now?” I started grabbing bags of beans to be ground, waiting for my elf friend to respond.

“Snipping at the delivery guys, triple checking the inventory that you just did two days ago, cleanliness checks…”

My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head. It was my personal theory that our centaur boss, Amy, was such a perfectionist that she came out of the womb already dry. Her only vice seemed to be her smoking habit, a smell no worker here could tolerate.

With a heavy clip clop, she was suddenly breathing on my neck.

“Those bagels could use restocking, Cora.”

“Right away, Amy.” There was never use in arguing.

I finished pouring the beans in and cranked to the right setting.

It was the usual morning rush from eight to ten-ish.

Tired creatures of all varieties would come to premedicate before their daily grind.

As we were the closest shop to the downtown and marine areas, we had a steady trade and usually no shortage of tips, especially when Marie was working.

Good natured and sweet, supernaturally gorgeous like all elves, with the characteristic blue eyes and flowing light hair, she certainly broke a lot of hearts.

Once she got into medical school, I could see that tip jar getting less full.

It’s not that I didn’t like people. Most people just didn’t like sarcasm before coffee.

It was my native language. The bell on the door signaled another customer.

Marie cleared her throat, a signal to me. My least favorite person in the universe had arrived.

Short wavy light green hair, pale skin characteristic of the kelpies, Magical Forces police uniform, almost black eyes. Check, check and check.

Damien patiently waited his turn as Marie dosed out coffee and Danishes to the next two people in line.

“Morning, Marie, Cora,” he said, reaching for his wallet. Marie smiled. “Usual large iced?”

“You remembered.”

“You do come here every day,” she teased. I rolled my eyes and shivered as I got his beverage ready. I had told her ages ago that that one could not be trusted. Securing the lid, I put it on her right, with the straw. He seemed pleasant enough but I had known him since school times.

There was a reason most customers tended to prefer Marie to me. I wore all my emotions on my sleeve and had little way to disguise them. Marie could be pleasant in almost any circumstance. The bell rang and the line was growing.

I started slicing the bagel for our next regular. “Marie, if you’re done flirting, I think Mr Katos would like his cappuccino.”

Her face darkened in a deep blush and Damien stepped out of line, putting his change in the tip jar. It was more than the cost of the drink.

“See you guys tomorrow.”

After Mr Katos walked away with his food, Marie whirled on me. “Not nice, Cora! He doesn’t seem like some evil mastermind, just a sweet and handsome guy.”

“There are a thousand faerie tales about not being fooled by a nice face.”

She sighed. “At least don’t be rude to him, OK?”

I shot her a withering look. “Alright.”

“One of these days I might actually get the courage to ask him out.” She turned her attention to the register, suddenly interested in the buttons.

I rubbed my forehead. This headache was coming on fast today.

“You know I can’t stop you either way. Just be careful.” I made my way to refill the ice containers. Marie skipped after me, blonde hair flouncing. “You’re sure?”

“Look, if I haven’t been able to dissuade you by now, I’ll never be able to. I don’t even know why he bothers to greet me. Probably ’cause we went to school together.”

She beamed and threw her arms around me.

“Thank you, thank you!” The door pinged again and she ran out to the front with a smile that could stun any living creature.

I picked up the ice and felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket.

Putting down the ice, my own face lit up when I saw the message Finneas sent.

“Oh, it’s real alright. Be around soon with details and the offer.”

Letting out my own little squeal, I charged back out with the ice, looking forward to when I’d see my goblin fence.

We had a simple arrangement: I smuggle the goods to him, he puts his feelers out for a buyer, we split the profit.

So far, I had a nice tidy sum sitting in a bank account for later use.

I never touched that account. If I needed more, I’d pick up more shifts but I’d never touch it while I could help it.

As much as Dad was a fan of hard work and dedication to craft, I know he wouldn’t want his only child to be a smuggler.

I just happened to be very good at it. All the time in his shadow, traveling with him dealing art and antiquities, gave me a lust for the hunt.

I just happened to find out early on that legal wasn’t always the most profitable.

It was just a matter of time. A few more scores and I could go somewhere, start over, and be whomever I wanted to be.

I didn’t hate this job. Once Amy disappeared home past two, it was a lot easier. Some college kids would come in and study in the booths with frequent refills. The second shifters would come in, the people needing a pick me up after work.

The bell rang and I looked up. Finneas’s grey skin looked extra shiny today and his four-foot stature strolled in, confident and secure. Marie knew that he was a friend of my father’s, just not that he was my colleague in less than savory things.

“Hey kid.” Marie stood aside and waved. “Hi Marie,” he said, more dreamily.

I put down his large hot coffee with a knowing look. “She’s way too young for you, old man.”

He raised his eyebrow as I took his money. “A guy can dream,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s something you can keep to yourself.”

He pretended to scroll through his phone but tipped it down so that I could see over the counter. There it was, dark red, the size of both of my small hands combined.

“How good is your source?” I pretended to be busy with the register, speaking in low tones.

“Known the witch for years. I trust her.”

“Any idea why?”

“Why what?”

“Why a person would yank out their heart like that.” I pushed the register drawer closed.

He threw me a mocking look. “Have we ever cared why? Or just that it happens?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Just curious.”

“Keep those pointy ears open for anything.” I nodded. “I don’t think I need to tell you the take on this one.”

“More than enough, my friend,” I muttered as Marie came closer.

“See you later, kid. Those vases won’t restore themselves.”

Finneas spent his waking hours as a restoration specialist in the city museum. His access was near unparalleled. He had offered to get me a job there but I had declined. Despite knowing the place inside out, I just couldn’t be there without thinking of Dad.

At six when my shift ended, I hung up my apron and punched out.