Page 2 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

Hecate growls low in her throat, the sound surprisingly menacing for such a tiny dog.

Seamus glances at her, then back to me. “I deserve that. I deserve worse, actually.” He runs a hand through his hair, dislodging a few strands from the knot. “I need your help, Bella.”

I laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “You need my help? That’s rich.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Someone’s stolen my gold.”

Despite myself, I’m intrigued. A leprechaun’s gold isn’t just currency. It’s the source of their magic, and their connection to the fae realm. Without it, Seamus will be vulnerable. “And this concerns me how, exactly?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“The thief left a note.” He pulls a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and slides it across the counter. “It’s addressed to both of us.”

I unfold the note cautiously, half-expecting it to be hexed. The ink shifts and swirls across the page, forming and reforming into different patterns—a magical signature I don’t recognize.

“‘To the witch and the leprechaun,’” I read aloud. “‘Your gold is safe, for now. Consider this a game, if you will. Follow the clues, work together, and you might recover what was lost. Refuse, and the gold returns to the earth from whence it came.’”

I look up at Seamus, suspicion narrowing my eyes. “Is this some elaborate scheme to get me to talk to you again?”

“I swear on my magic, it’s not.” He places his hand over his heart, and I see the faint golden glow that accompanies a fae oath. “I woke up this morning to find my vault empty except for this note.”

Hecate hops onto the counter for a better look, her nose twitching as she sniffs the parchment. “Smells like magic and mischief, and something else... Something old.”

The bell chimes again as more customers enter. I quickly fold the note and hand it back to Seamus.

“I can’t deal with this right now. I have a business to run.”

“I understand.” He steps back, disappointment evident in his expression. “But please, think about it. I’ll come back at closing time.”

Before I can respond, he turns and walks out, nodding politely to the entering customers—a family of woodland sprites who frequent the café for my special honeysuckle lattes.

“That was dramatic,” says Hecate, her collar charm cycling through colors as she processes what just happened.

“Not now, Hec.” I straighten my apron and force a smile for my customers. “Welcome to Moonwake Café. What can I brew for you today?”

The day passes in a blur of orders, small talk, and magical brewing. I serve enchanted espressos to exhausted night shift workers from the hospital, mood-matching macchiatos to teenagers from Enchanted Elderflower High School, and my famous divination dark roast to Madam Threads, who owns the clothing shop down the street.

All the while, Seamus’s visit and the mysterious note linger in my thoughts. By closing time, I’ve convinced myself I want nothing to do with his problems. He walked out of my life without explanation two years ago, so he doesn’t get to walk back in and ask for favors.

As I wipe down the last table, Hecate materializes on a nearby chair, having spent most of the afternoon invisible.

“He’s coming back, you know,” she says, grooming her paw with exaggerated nonchalance.

“I know.” I spray the table with cleaner that smells of lavender and moonlight. “And I’m going to tell him to take his problems elsewhere.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? Someone powerful enough to steal a leprechaun’s gold could be dangerous.”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.” I move to the next table, scrubbing harder than necessary.

“But what if—”

The bell chimes, cutting off Hecate’s question. Seamus stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the setting sun. He’s changed clothes and is now wearing dark trousers and a leather jacket with intricate knotwork designs along the edges.

“We’re closed,” I call out, though the sign still says ‘Open’ and I haven’t locked the door yet.

“I know.” He steps inside anyway, closing the door behind him. “I just want to talk. Five minutes, and if you still want me gone, I’ll go.”

I sigh, tossing the cleaning cloth onto the counter. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Hecate jumps down from the chair and trots over to Seamus, circling him suspiciously. “You smell different,” she says. “Less magic. The gold theft is affecting you already.”

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