Page 8 of The Lone Wolf Café
“Ah.” Thankfully, the witch didn’t probe further. “Well, with that in mind, I have a proposition for you. My longtime baker recently moved away, causing major issues keeping this place afloat.” She gestured with her hands around the shop. “I’m sort of desperate. So, if you stay here and make pastries for the café, at least until I can get a new baker, I’ll make it worth your time.”
My jaw dropped. Just when I thought this situation couldn’t be any stranger, the witch who initially tried to chase me away was offering me ajob.
“I, uh…” I struggled to string together a sentence. “But… why?”
I mentally slapped myself.So many questions to ask, and that’s what you start with?
The witch shrugged, as if the request was as straightforward as asking for directions. “You need money. I need a baker. And clearly, you’re quite skilled with pastries.”
“I…” My mouth snapped shut.I certainly won’t refute that statement.“But I’m a human.”
“I don’t have a problem with humans,” the witch replied coolly, her purple-tipped fingers wrapped around her teacup. “Even if some of my neighbors do. I pay well, and there’s an old abandoned cottage next to mine you can stay in. Plus, I’ll help you pretend you’re a witch.”
Pay? A house? Pretending I’m a witch?
All three concepts had my head spinning, but what really made my stomach turn was the idea of masquerading as a witch to survive in this town. Even if I could keep this newfound random shifting under control, once the next full moon hit, it would be over. Werewolves were wild and unpredictable during their frenzies, and I didn’t know what sort of damage I’d end up doing without the safety and isolation of my home island.
But… I could probably play the part for a few weeks. Hang around until the next full moon, make some money, then head south with the proper resources to survive in the human world.
“Uh… alright. I guess I’ll do it.”
The witch paused, swirling the tip of her finger around the rim of her empty teacup.
“Excellent. But first, let’s see what you can do.” The witch pointed to the door behind the counter. “I want you to make me another batch of those blueberry scones. Then we’ll discuss terms of employment.”
Oh great. A test?
But it was one I knew I could pass. And I really needed this job.
“Okay,” I nodded. “I can do that.”
“Perfect. Everything you need will be in the kitchen, and there are blueberry bushes outside in the back garden.”
“Blueberries?” I frowned. “How? They’re not in season.”
The witch chuckled, which sounded more like a scoff with her attitude. “I’m not just an herbalist witch. I’m also a chloromancer. In my garden,everythingis in season.”
I watched, still slightly dumbfounded by the situation, as the witch picked up our teacups and gestured for me to follow her to the counter.
“Don’t like tea?” she asked, noting my still-full teacup.
“Uh… I…”
Should I tell the truth?This witch was clearly passionate about tea.
“I see,” the witch replied, my stuttering giving her enough of an answer. Once we made it to the kitchenette, she set her empty teacup in the sink and took a long sip frommyteacup. “Shame. I cast a truth-telling enchantment on it.”
All the color immediately drained from my face – the grumpy witch’s façade broke as a hint of a smile appeared on her lips.
“I’m just joking,” she chided. “Sadly, our village hasn’t had an enchanter for a long time, and I don’t have those sorts of abilities. By the way, human… I never got your name.”
“Oh… it’s Annette. Annette Clarke,” I explained. “But most people call me Nettie.”
“Nettie,” she nodded, pondering the name. “It suits you. I’m Rowena Hawthorne, resident herbalist witch of Wisteria Grove.”
I nodded.This town is called Wisteria Grove. Interesting.
Rowena leaned against the door and tapped lightly on the wood. Through the tiny window, I caught a glimpse of a very odd-looking kitchen.
