Page 67 of Clubs

When I held the crystal in my palm, focused on the energy inside of it, I saw a memory. Genevieve’s memory, judging by the reflection in a car driving past.

From what I could tell, it was a small town. Little businesses stacked beside one another, leaving very few alleys in between. The business she stood before, however, did have one. The memory wasn’t clear enough to make out the name on the sign, but the red brick, the pleasant white awnings, the pretty blue sky overhead gave me a clear enough depiction of where I was headed.

What I focused on, however, was that little alley beside it. Specifically, the dumpster.

“Hang on,” I said to Declan.

“I hate my life,” he muttered.

* * *

“Where the hell are we?” Declan asked, tilting his head back to look around. When he straightened, his foot collapsed into something, and he sniffed. Darting eyes turned on me, he snapped, “A fucking dumpster, Brooke?”

“Better than the middle of a busy street.” Struggling up on a bag of something that smelled both disgusting and delicious, rotting food mixed with coffee, I gripped the metal frame for stability. “You should jump out, and then tell me if the coast is clear so I can teleport out.”

He glared. “You’re serious.”

“Sure, we can both jump out. But I’m a lady. You obviously are not. So I see no harm in you jumping out of the dumpster. I might look a little bit ridiculous.”

Tightening his jaw, he rolled his eyes. “Hate you. I hate you, so fucking much.”

And yet, he was climbing out of the dumpster. When his feet hit the cement outside, he grunted, “Coast is clear.”

So, I teleported to his side.

“Where is this dumpster located?”

Dusting the debris off my pants, I fixed my blouse. “Minnesota.”

“Minnesota. Sure. Makes perfect sense,” he said under his breath. “And what’s in Minnesota?”

“Jeremy, I think Guinevere said. But she also said ‘they,’ so I’m assuming it’s more than just Jeremy.”

Again, his jaw clenched tightly. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the little bit of information we had, or the fact that I mentioned another man. God forbid we ever need somebody other than the strong, almighty Declan.

“Just… Stay cool in there, alright?” Declan said. “If we don’t know what we’re walking into, we should be careful.”

As if I needed Declan to tell me twice. But, to save ourselves from an argument, I just agreed and carried on around the bend and inside.

I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. A quaint, cozy café in a cute little town. One with green walls, dark wood flooring, and an almost familial vibe. There was a man a decade or so my senior at a stage in the corner with two toddlers. The stage was nothing fancy, barely enough to fit one person and a guitar, but there was equipment there, suggesting someone did, in fact, play music here.

On the far right was the checkout counter. There was a pastry case, a fancy espresso machine, and a thousand pretty desserts inside. Behind that checkout counter stood a pretty barista. With her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, I couldn’t tell how long it was. But what stood out about her were the vines and flowers covering much of her visible skin. Although she didn’t have any tattoos on her face, her neck and arms were covered in them, hardly any pale white flesh showing. And even from here, just approaching while she looked the opposite direction, her bright green eyes stood out like emeralds in a sea of rubies.

Green eyes like that were unachievable in nature. Human nature, anyway. As I got closer, when I saw her in more detail, I was sure of it. Not only that she was Fae, but I knew what Guinevere meant now when she said to tell her about my memories.

When she said all of you, that I could be their problem now, when she said I wasn’t ready for this, she didn’t mean that I wasn’t ready to meet this woman. She meant that I wasn’t ready for the information she would have.

Because now, as I looked at her, I knew exactly who she was.

In the memories, she had a name. One I hadn’t remembered until I looked into those green eyes.

“Excuse me,” I said.

She turned our way, hopping off the stool behind the bar. I hadn’t realized how short she was. The stool had made it look like she was standing, but she couldn’t have been more than 5’5”. “I’m sorry. Didn’t hear you come in. What can I get you?”

“Um,” I murmured, squinting her over, making sure that I wasn’t about to spout something I’d regret. After all, I didn’t feel a supernatural energy signature coming off her, but she knew Guinevere, who could certainly conceal that.

“Caramel macchiato and a black coffee.” Declan dropped some money on the counter. “Are you the owner?”

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