I couldn’t stay and watch, I reminded myself, as fascinating as it was. I was running late to work already, and it would look odd for me to stay on the road watching something that no one else could see, so I pushed off and continued to the back of the coffee shop.
I was berated by the manager as I entered and given the job of dishwashing – a task that most found unpleasant, however, as it kept me in the back room for the first hour of my shift, I didn’t mind at all. Eventually, I was called to the front to cover a break, and as I manned the cash register, I saw a group of young women enter, and amongst them, Nova.
As usual, she didn’t acknowledge me. I watched her as I poured coffee. She was on the edge of the group and chewed on her nails as she watched the door as if expecting someone to arrive.
I glanced down at the coffee I was preparing and frowned as I saw that as I poured the milk foam formed a death’s head rather than the cloverleaf that I was supposed to produce. I hit the bottom of the cup onto the counter, dispersing the picture – better no picture then handing a customer a coffee with a skull in the foam. I put a lid on and slid it across to the customer.
To my surprise he grabbed my wrist, pinning it to the benchtop, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh, and I gasped up at him in shock.
“I know you.” He growled down at me.
“I… don’t think so,” I stammered out tugging against his grip. He held my hand pinned and pushed down upon it so that my bones ground painfully into the uncompromising surface.
“Yeah. You’re one of them.” He leaned across the counter, holding me tight. I glanced around desperately, wondering if anyone else had seen what he was doing and would intervene. “I know you are one of those Vossen witches,” he breathed into my ear, his breath hot and moist against my skin. “And I know that your aunts are hiding my wife and daughter. Tell those bitches that she’d better turn up home, or they’ll be sorry.”
He held me there as he leaned back, meeting my eyes, enjoying my pain and fear like the bully he was. “Do you understand me?” He asked.
“Y… Yes,” I hated how my voice trembled.
“Good,” he released me and leaned back. “Thank you,” he saluted me with the coffee cup as he turned. I watched him go to the door, holding it open for a couple entering and accepting their thanks graciously as if he had not just terrorized me.
“I need to talk to him!” Nova’s cry and the slam of her palm onto the tabletop silenced the coffee shop, drawing all eyes to her, but she glared at the group of popular girls seeming not to even notice the rest of us.
The popular girls looked up at her in sneering disgust.
“Really Nova,” their leader spoke. “The gutter comes out of the girl. Good luck. Girls like you are like junk food. Occasionally everyone takes it home, but no one wants to eat it every day. Just… appreciate your moment in the spotlight as the moment it was. And move the fuck on, you’re just embarrassing everyone with your desperation.”
Nova spun and ran for the door, almost bowling over a little boy, had his mother not snatched him away, calling out after her in anger. A moment later, as I made the mother and her son their order, the Corniche passed the window at speed.
I sighed and, after serving the mother and son, looked down at my wrist. The skin was reddened, and I wondered if it would bruise. I recognized the man. Warren. The unbinding spell had predicted that his wife would return to him and die because of it. I hoped that the spell was wrong.
“Hey.”
I glanced up, startled. Mal stood on the other side of the counter, and immediately I was back in that pool with his hands and mouth on me. I felt my cheeks heat. “Hi,” I replied cautiously.
“Just hi?” He was ridiculously handsome in his tailored chinos and polo shirt with his bright hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He leaned against the bench. “Surely, we’re beyond hi… When are you off?”
“Ah…” I glanced at the clock whilst smoothing my palms down my apron, absently wondering if I was a mess. “Ten minutes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll meet you out front and give you a lift home.”
“I… ah, rode my bike here,” I told him.
“No problem,” he dismissed my concern with a wave of his hand. “I’ll take care of it. You’re the house on the hill, under the lighthouse, right?”
“Right,” I was hesitant. He had done his research, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing if he was, as Ender had implied, not entirely as human as he appeared. “My friend, last night…” I started.
“Is that what he is to you?” Mal arched an eyebrow with a wicked grin. My manager cleared his throat behind me as he left the kitchen, disapproving of a personal conversation during work time. “Anyway,” Mal tapped his hand on the counter before pushing away. “Ten minutes.”
I hurried to finish wiping down for the next shift and ducked into the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup nervously on my way to the back door. My bike was not there, and Mal leaned against a silver Porsche Cabriolet. He opened the passenger door with a flourish.
“My bike?” I wondered as I slid into the seat.
“Trust me,” he said as he closed the door behind me.
I watched him round the car to the driver’s side and he flashed me a grin as he started the engine.
“My friend said that you…” I hesitated. There were rules. Things that should not be spoken of. “That I should be wary of you.”