"I—thank you," I managed, accepting the gift with hands that trembled only slightly. "It's beautiful."
Queen Amaryllis nodded regally, then glided toward a table where several other fae were already arranging themselves. I barely had time to place the orb on the counter before the door banged open with enough force to make the magical bells hiccup. The goblin sisters, tumbled in as a tangle of green limbs and bickering voices.
"I'm giving it to her!"
"No, I am! You did it last year!"
"There wasn't a party last year, numbskull!"
One finally broke free of the tussle, thrusting a crudely wrapped package at me with a triumphant grin that revealed too many pointed teeth. "For you, Pink Lady! It's a charm for unbreakable mugs. Because you're always dropping things."
"I do not—" I started to protest, then remembered the countless mugs I'd broken over the years. "That's... actually really thoughtful. Thank you."
The other sister shoved forward. "It was my idea! And I get the corner booth!"
"No, I get it!" The smaller one yanked her back by her patchy vest.
Within seconds, they were a rolling ball of green limbs again, tumbling toward the contested booth while uttering creative curses involving unspeakable bodily functions. I noticed they carefully avoided the one where Krampus sat watching the proceedings with amused tolerance.
The door chimed more sedately as the next guest entered. I recognized the satyr immediately, the one who'd caused a scene harassing Dahlia and Bramble. Today, he approached with his head bowed, hooves clicking nervously on the wooden floor. "Miss Simone." He extended a woven basket filled with bundles of herbs and spices that glowed with subtle enchantment. "A peace offering. And my formal apology. The café has been... most generous in giving me a second chance."
The scent rising from the basket was intoxicating, cinnamon that smelled like a childhood I hadn't actually experienced, vanilla that somehow carried notes of summer sunshine, and others I couldn't even name.
"Apology accepted," I said, accepting the basket. "Just keep your hands and comments to yourself, hmm?"
His nervous expression broke into relieved joy. "Absolutely! No means no, I swear by the old gods and the new shopping mall!"
As he trotted off toward the drink table, I spotted a familiar figure hunched by the door. The lich who occupied the corner table every Wednesday, reading ancient tomes and complaining that our tea was "tolerable, I suppose." He clutched a leather-bound book to his chest, its binding cracked with age and seemingly held together by magic and stubbornness, much like the lich himself.
He shuffled forward, avoiding eye contact. "For future upgrades," he muttered, thrusting the book at me. "Your brewing techniques are... not entirely abysmal. This might help."
I accepted the tome carefully, feeling the magic pulsing from its pages. The title, written in a language I couldn't read, shimmered and rearranged itself: "Enchanted Brewing: 1001 Magical Recipes for Discerning Undead."
"This is incredibly generous," I said, genuinely touched.
He harrumphed and shuffled away, but not before I caught the faintest upturn of his skeletal lips.
The pattern continued as more guests arrived. The werewolf pack from the accounting firm brought a hand-carved wooden sign for the door. A trio of witches presented a set of enchanted stirring spoons that sang quietly while in use. The vampire couple who always shared a table by the window on date nights offered a bottle of iridescent liquid that "captures the essence of your best day and lets you savor it drop by drop."
Each gift came with words of gratitude. For offering a space where magical beings could simply exist without hiding. Being kind when kindness wasn't expected.
I stood in the center of it all, arms full of presents and throat tight with emotion I couldn't quite swallow down. These people, these magical, wonderful, sometimes difficult creatures, truly appreciated all the effort I'd put in day by day.
A warm hand touched my lower back, and I didn't need to look to know it was Krampus.
"You look overwhelmed," he observed, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I blinked rapidly, determined not to ruin Silas's eye makeup job with tears. "I didn't know," I whispered. "I didn't know they felt this way."
His hand squeezed gently at my waist. "They've always felt this way. You just couldn't let yourself believe it."
He was right. I'd been so busy trying to earn my place that I hadn't realized I'd already found it. These people weren't just customers or even friends. They were family. My family.
And finally, I was ready to fully be theirs in return.
Chapter twenty
Simone
