Page 42 of Amber: Deja Brew

“Sprained ankle my first year at the academy. And I broke my arm in third year, when I flew out a second floor window.”

“That was pretty ballsy of you,” Chase says.

“It was an accident. I was doing a presentation, and it didn’t go well, so I shifted... and I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, because next thing I knew, I was falling.” I grin, listening to Chase work in the background as I talk. “Julian was so freaked out, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight for like two weeks.”

“I wouldn’t have either,” Chase agrees. “I’m actually surprised he lets you out of his sight now.”

“It was a long time ago,” I say, before Chase can turn all protective on me. “There was a mouse shifter back at the academy that I used to practice shifting into. He was tiny enough to squeeze under doors, so I could slip into the kitchen and unlock it for Julian. It’s how we’d get all the best snacks.”

I smile as the cappuccino machine sputters to a stop. The sweet aroma of caffeine flits through the cafe, calming me, and I find myself finally shifting back.

“I wish I’d gone to an academy.” Chase sighs. “It sounds like you had some great adventures there.”

“We did.” I smile as I get to my feet. “But there was a lot of bad stuff, too. Like Minerva and her clique of bullies. I used to get homesick a lot as well. And I got in trouble accidentally shifting when I wasn’t supposed to—or purposefully shifting when I wasn’t supposed to.” I grin.

“Like the kitchen mouse?” Chase asks.

“We may have gotten caught once or twice.” I wink at Chase as he rounds the counter with two Jewels Cafe mugs in hand. He hands me my cappuccino and heads toward what I’ve started to think of as his favorite table—his and Sapphire’s.

He sets down his Americano, and the table jumps. No, I’m not kidding. It literally jumps. Chase’s Americano flies up, there’s a loud crash, and the mug shatters at his feet.

“What the hell?” Chase shouts, pulling his soaked shirt away from his chest. “Did the table just...”

“Move like a stripper?” I ask.

“What?” Chase gapes at me.

“Just something Sapphire said.” I frown. “The same thing happened to her yesterday, but I thought that was just Sapphire being Sapphire.”

“Huh.” Chase stares at the table thoughtfully. “Can I borrow this?”

Before I can say no, he takes my cappuccino and lowers it toward the table. The moment it makes contact with the surface, the table bucks, attempting to throw the contents at Chase.

This time, Chase has a strong grip on the mug, so only some of the precious brew splashes onto the table. The table doesn’t seem to like that—or the fact that it’s still got a mug resting on its back—because it starts trying to throw it off. It looks like a bucking horse, which would be a funny sight if more precious cappuccino wasn’t spilling with every passing second.

“I’ll take this!” I grab the mug and down whatever’s left. It isn’t much, which means I’ll have to walk all the way around the counter and make more, but at least I won’t be flopping around on the floor.

“So whoever cursed the sink did a number on the table?” Chase asks, and I realize he’s probably right.

“That would be my best guess.” I frown. I really don’t want to say what I’m about to say, but I know I have to. “Hey, Chase, do you think the same person’s also responsible for the bad reviews?”

“It’s possible.” He nods, and I sigh. So much for my dream of sending Minerva to the Silver Springs Penitentiary.

Chase and I work on cleaning up, make fresh drinks, and sip them at the bar. Wes and Julian somehow manage to sleep through the whole thing, so we fill them in when they eventually come downstairs. We do a demo with a paper cup and some water, debate whether or not Karma could have accidentally cursed the tables, too, and then wait for Zoe to arrive.

“With the amount of times I’m over here, you guys should just have me on retainer,” Zoe says when she breezes in just before we’re scheduled to open.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Wes tells her. “Unless something else is cursed that we haven’t found yet.”

“Well, what’s the problem this time?”

“Cursed tables,” I say, demonstrating with a cup of water.

Zoe giggles as the table bucks, then casts a spell to uncurse it. She tests the other tables, and uncurses them too.

“I don’t know how I missed this before.” She shakes her head. “The tables were only spelled to react to drinks—not people sitting on them—so I didn’t really think to look.”

“It’s not your fault, Zoe,” I tell her. “Is there any way to check the rest of the cafe? Or will we not know until the spell activates?”

“Now that I know to look for magic, I can do a sweep.” She raises a hand and starts running it over each chair in turn. “If there’s magic, I’ll spot it.”

We watch quietly as Zoe scans the chairs, bar stools, and every item behind the counter. She even checks the back room, and when she’s done, we pay her with another Mood Tea—on top of what Wes is actually paying her, of course.

After she leaves—grinning happily with a glowing pink drink—we open the cafe and get into a routine. We serve drinks, make small talk with customers, and sneak into the back room to check Screech.

Aside from two bad reviews from last night—both complaining about getting drenched—the rest of the new reviews are all either four or five stars. A few customers complain about the line, and Chase happily jumps in to help when it gets busy. And when it’s quiet, Julian slips into the back to try to reach Minerva or her parents, though he doesn’t have any luck.

By mid-afternoon—after another delicious sandwich platter, compliments of Wes—I’m starting to feel like maybe things will work out after all. The new reviews bolster our average, customers keep streaming in, and Zoe did a sweep to make sure we weren’t cursed.

I’m feeling all happy and in my element as I finish assembling an Angel Coffee, so of course, that’s when everything goes to hell.