Page 13 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I wasn’t sure if you could strangle a toad, but I was getting closer to finding out. His plump little body sat right beside my head, so close. I could reach over and⁠—

Stop glaring at me like that and go apply for the job before the ghost returns.

Fenn got to live another day. Lucky him. I sat up and brushed tasteless crumbs off my shirt with an exasperated sigh. The idea of applying was both exciting and nerve-wracking. If I didn’t get going now, I would never find the courage to.

“What makes you think Wes will come back tonight?” I asked, slipping a baggy sweater over my head.

I wasn’t sure if I could bear another round of his audacity. My sleep last night was anything but restful, and getting all keyed up from another argument wasn’t going to help. I had a few sleeping draughts, but they knocked me out hard, and I didn’t feel comfortable yet to be that unconscious. Even with Fenn keeping guard.

I peeked a quick look at my familiar; he’d be due for a restorative rest soon. Absorbing so much of my magic these past few days was a strain, I knew, and he was going to have to expel it before it overflowed out of him.

That ghost hasn’t been more than ten feet from you since you set foot in this attic.

Wait, what?

“How do you—why—you didn’t say anything!”

Fenn rolled his eyes…or...attempted to. It was kind of weird looking, whatever it was.

You underestimate how much distrust he has for you. Also, this is his room, so I’m going to assume he has an attachment to it.

Ugh, not him too. I get that Wes died here and all, but that would make me want to move on, not haunt the place. Whatever. As long as he didn’t stalk me while I tried to get this job, one tantrum at the café was plenty.

“Just…keep him busy if he returns before I do, okay?”

His reluctant croak followed me out the door. I made it out of the inn without running into anyone and swiftly traced my way back to the main square. The town had a fairly straightforward layout, so I wasn’t worried about getting lost. The streetlamps glowed in the slowly dimming light, but the sun still peeked over the trees. More importantly, the café was open.

Amber light spilled from the front window and spread over the sidewalk like a welcome mat. I approached it casually, totally normal. Not at all panicked. The help sign remained in the window, and the sight of it had my heart racing. Goddess, I needed to chill. No one wanted a weirdo pouring them lattes.

“My name is Aven,” I practiced, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m quiet, reliable, and will not accidentally hex your customers.”

I couldn’t say that, of course, but hearing the words helped to get my head on straight. The moment I stepped through the door, the layered scents of cinnamon and brown butter wrapped around me. Drawn deeper by the delicious smell, I hardly noticed the bell jingling overhead or the few customers that glanced my way. They were immediately unimpressed with me, in the best possible way. There was no scrutiny, no suspicion. Only neutral friendliness.

I didn’t bolt for the stacks this time but cautiously made my way to the counter where a young woman arranged sweets in the bakery cabinet. We looked about the same age. She had gorgeous, silver hair that twinkled in the soft lighting, and her stark blue eyes beamed when they landed on me.

“Hiya, you come back! Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

I caught myself smiling, despite my nerves. The café was flooded with that same feeling of welcome and contentment I sensed earlier, and the longer I stood there, the easier it was to tap into it.

I decided to go for it. “I…um, saw the sign in the window?”

The woman’s smile widened into an almost devilish grin. “Fuck yes,” she squealed. “We are absolutely hiring! Come in, come in.”

I stopped hugging the wall and let my feet guide me to the open table where the woman gestured for me to sit.

“I’m Briony, by the way,” she greeted, before promising to be over in a second.

I took a moment to check out the café. Last time, I barely glanced around before hiding in the back with the books, but now, I was pleasantly surprised. The place thrummed with a faint magical resonance, not unlike the rest of the town. It felt more concentrated here, which probably explained my interaction earlier. I took it as a good sign.

Warmth radiated from the brick walls, worn smooth by decades of coats brushing past them. They were painted a deep cream, the color of milk before caramelization, with the old stone peeking through in places. Shelves hung over the spots where paint remained; stacked with mismatched mugs, cookbooks, and jars of candy whose labels had faded into illegibility.

Briony floated behind the main counter, fiddling with a mug on the ancient chunk of scarred oak, its surface darkened by heat and spills and time. She reached into the glass pastry case next, and my stomach growled in approval. Everything in there looked like it belonged in an autumn fair: caramel-drizzled scones, apple hand pies, cinnamon rolls so glossy they caught the light, and the last of the crumbly muffins, which she placed on a small plate.

Goddess, I hoped that was for me. I’d already had more sweets in this town than I had in the last six months, and I was quietly becoming obsessed. I nervously wrung my fingers in my lap as a deep mug was set before me, along with the muffin. Briony took the seat across from me, hands cradling her own cup.

“It’s hot chocolate,” she said with a conspiratory wink. “Goes great with the coffee cake muffin, if I do say so myself.”

My fingertips reached for the curved lip of the plate and slid it closer. Steam lazily rose from the mug, and I decided to give it a little more time to cool. But that muffin…yeah...I wasn’t waiting for that. Cinnamon streusel fell as I brought it to my mouth and took a giant bite. It was only after crumbs dusted my lips that I realized I hadn’t even said thank you for the free food.