I’m crouched over a dustpan when I hear the bell on the door tinkle.
“We’re closed,” I call out. “Come back tomorrow.”
A breeze blows dust at me, and I get to my feet, only to find the door open and no one there. I hurry over and shut it, this time turning the latch to lock it.
When I turn back,heis behind the counter.
The creature has to be six and a half feet tall or more, a great mottled cloak hanging from his shoulders which nearly reaches the floor. He is fondling the last iced bun, the one I was saving to have with my tea.
“Hey! You shouldn’t be behind there,” I say.
He turns with the sweet treat in his hand, and I take a step back. He is incredibly handsome, with sharp features and a full mouth. His deep red eyes are still on the confectionary, but they rise to look at me. At the same time, a set of feathery antennae lift from where they’re concealed in his white hair and twist like radar dishes.
What I thought was a cloak is absolutely not. It’s a pair of great what can only be described as furry wings. He isn’t wearing any clothing on his upper half, revealing a muscular chest which could put any bodybuilder to shame. Two bandoliers criss-cross his mauve skin, bristling with knives. A pair of leather trousers sits low on his waist, soft brown fur poking up from around the band.
The Bluecap.
The assassin.
“You eat this?” He holds out the sticky bun to me.
“Er…yes. Providing it hasn’t been handled,” I say.
He puts it down carefully on the counter, then gives it a pat, some of the icing coming off onto his fingers. He stares at the mess he’s made of his hand and then puts out a dark tongue to taste.
Instantly he makes a face, recoiling from his own hand with a blood curdling growl. I turn, unlock the door, and race out into the street, my heart racing.
Surrounded by the citizens of Moranick going about their business, I should feel safe, but I don’t.
“Everything okay, Kaitlyn?” the greengrocer, a large warlock called Brian with a big striped apron wrapped around his ample form, asks me.
I look back at the shop. It’s empty of any great Bluecap…mothman.
“Oh,” I push my hair back from my face. “Yes, it’s nothing. Gloriana needs to redo her insect repellant spells. I just saw a massive spider.”
He chuckles. “Not a fan of bugs?”
“Not when they surprise me,” I say, loudly. “I don’t like that at all.”
Brian gives me a quizzical look as Gloriana rounds the corner and sees me. If she’s confused why I’m in the street, she doesn’tshow it, merely giving me a wave as she enters through the front door.
“Here.” Brian hands me a bag of apples. “I just got a consignment of these in. See if Gloriana wants to make some apple tarts.”
I’m sure I hear a growl as I take the fruit.
LINTON
I. Can’t. Get. The. Stuff. Off.
I hate it. I hate it so much I have a dagger in my hand and I’m contemplating cutting off my fingers. The back room behind the shop has water but I also hate water, so instead I find a long red piece of cloth, slice a portion off, and manage to scrub the offending goo away.
And my mark has gone, the shop empty and the door open. I hear the foghorn voice of the owner outside and take my usual position, on the ceiling, my wings providing me with the relevant camouflage as I attempt to get my heart and breathing under control.
I can’t leave the human, but I doubt she’s gone far, and she will likely soon return to the place she works and resides. Why she would contemplate eating thethingI found, I have no idea.
It was sticky.
The thought makes me shudder, but I quickly still when the bell on the shop door tinkles and I hear both the witch and the lighter footsteps of my female enter. The door is shut, locked, and they make their way into the rear room where thefood creation is done. Sometimes I like the scent of the food, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes it gets hot, and I like the heat.
