“500 years? Surely not. Next you're going to tell me you actually meant that, aren't you? I know I'm new here, but I'm notthatgullible.”
I pick up an apothecary jar with a strange label on it, trying to make out the contents of it. Lenore has frozen. She pivots, facing me. “What did you say your name was?”
“Devon.”
She takes the jar from me and puts it on the shelf, cants her head to the side and walks down the aisle, picking up a different jar to put in my hands. “This one would be better for you, I think.” she closes her eyes, with her hand over the jar. Her eyes pop open. “Yes. This will do nicely.”
For enhanced dream lucidity,the label reads. I put that shit back immediately. I definitely do not needmorelucid dreams.
Lenore hums as she moves around the shop, leaving me a bit confused about what I'm doing here. I wrap my arms around myself and look up, admiring the chandelier dangling from the ceiling.
When she speaks again, I'm caught off guard because she's right behind me. “When did you find out about your heritage?”
“My what? Oh, I think my momma's line comes from Ireland or something. Why?”
“No, I mean yourheritage. Your, you know, your compatibility with beverage shifters?”
I start backing toward the door, my hands out. “I'm sorry, you must have me confused with somebody else. Beverage shifting? I mean, no. Hold up— isthatwhat's going on in this town? Shifters? I've seen the movies. I know that that's like a myth, or whatever. That there are stories about people that can shift into animals. I'm feeling a little uncomfortable though. Do you mind if I just...” I make a run for the door, but it's locked.
“Devon, you do know you're not fully human, right? That's probably why you were called to this town. Trash Haven is literally a haven for people that need a place to belong. The town wanted you here.Chipwanted you here. And now, here you are.” She beams at me.
I'm starting to get irritated now, feeling trapped. I lash out, my voice rising more than I want it to, but claustrophobia is rising within me. “I don't know who Chip is! I'm telling you; you have me confused with somebody else. Please unlock the door, I need to get out. I'll leave town, I promise. If you don't want me here, that's fine. I'll leave. Right now. I just need to get out so I can collect my belongings. It’ll be like I was never here,” I beg.
A deep hum sounds around me, soothing me. I don't know what it is, but my nervous system seems to relax to it. Before I know it, I'm holding a warm cup of hot chocolate. I open my eyes wide in shock, looking down at the familiar red-orange mug. “No—”
“It's okay, Devon. Let your mate calm you. You two have much to talk about. Nobody will bother you here, if you wish to use the lounge over there.” She gestures to a corner that has a well-worn love seat in a dark red velvet, trimmed with black stained wood with impeccable details.
I walk there on autopilot, nearly taking a sip of the chocolate before I catch myself. I set it down on the table in front of me and then bundle my knees up and bury my head in them.
“I don't understand what's going on.”
The smell of rich chocolate blooms in the air in front of me, and I gasp when I see a thin trail of it flowing over the side of the mug, down the side of the table, and up the leg of the chair I'm on to then slither up my pant leg. I feel it moving against my skin, avoiding my intimate areas, not stopping until it reaches my neck. It runs down my arm then and lands on my hand. It's almost playful, dancing around my fingers. It weaves in and out of them, almost tickling me. “Okay, okay. I’ll take a sip. You're Chip, I take it?”
I sigh heavily, pulling the molten chocolate into my mouth. I can't resist. My hands are itching to hold the mug, almost like a compulsion. “What am I doing here? What the hell is happening to me?” I sigh and draw the mug closer to my chest. “This is ridiculous. Lenore?” I call out.
She peeks her head from around the corner in an entirely different outfit. She's now in a tie-dyed sunshine orange and yellow coverall, with her hair up in a bun sporting a matching handkerchief around it. “Yes?”
“Am I crazy? Am I somehow in a mental institution disguised as a town? Be honest. I can handle the truth.”
She glides forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “Can you?”
I bite my lip, now unsure. She sits next to me and I set the mug down again.
Lenore takes my hand in hers, palm up, and starts tracing the lines on it. “This must be a shock to you. Most people that come to Trash Haven know they belong here. But you didn't, did you?”
“I still don't understand what you mean.”
“You know I'm a witch, right? Like, brews in a cauldron, cackles at the moon, has a coven, the whole shebang. You know thistown isn't a normal town, right? That everybody here, with some exception, has some sort of magical ability?”
I try to filter the words in my brain, but it's like there's a cement block preventing it from absorbing. “But magic isn't real.”
She smiles but seems unsurprised by my statement. Lenore looks around as if contemplating how to prove this, her eyes landing on the mug. A devious grin tilts her lips and she focuses on it more, and it begins to shake.
I make a move to steady it, because at this point I'm kind of fond of the mug and would be sad if it broke, but I can’t do anything to stabilize it. The mug begins to shake before it jumps off the table, spinning quickly without spilling a drop somehow, spewing up into the air until there's an outline of a man in front of me, made entirely of... hot chocolate.
He doesn't have super defined features, seeing how he's made of hot chocolate, but I think his face looks... concerned? “Devon? Are you feeling well, my love?”
I gasp, because it's the exact same voice I heard in my sleep. “But you—and then—what is this?”
