Page 16 of Strike It Witch

The Desert Rose Café was in a converted old house two blocks south of the trailer park. I landed a parking spot in front. Looked like the early morning rush was over and the brunch people hadn’t yet arrived.

A mural behind the counter depicted desert roses with thick succulent stems, shiny green leaves, and pink trumpet-shaped blooms. Tucked into various spots on the mural were bits of elven memorabilia. Tiny scrolls, intricate mosaics, minuscule silver, gold, and bronze boxes, and my favorite of all, a desert rose hand-carved from a single piece of peltogyne, or purpleheart wood.

“Ooo, that flower in your hair is lovely. You look like a tango dancer,” a honeyed female voice trilled.

Two people were working behind the counter, Gela and Kiv Melliza. Gela had paid me the compliment.

“Thanks.”

“What can we get for you?” Kiv asked.

“Large cappuccino and a warm lavender scone, please.”

Though I knew them to be cousins, they looked enough alike to be sisters. Gela was short and pretty, with round, pale brown eyes and jewel-green hair that hung to her shoulders. Kiv was also short and androgynously attractive with downward tilting eyes in a shade of brown so dark it might be mistaken for black. Their cropped hair was the same shade of green as their cousin’s.

Both wore jeans, white T-shirts, and khaki aprons with the Desert Rose Café logo embroidered top center, and pinned-on name tags told patrons their names. At least, their human names.

The Mellizas were fae, and any paranormal who walked into the place would sense it right away. It wasn’t so much in the golden brown of their skin or the green of their hair, or even in the certain pointedness of their ears and chins. It was the atmosphere they projected, one of whimsy and mischief with a sharp edge.

While Kiv went to work on my order, Gela leaned across the counter. She looked right and left then back at me. “You’re an earth witch, right?”

“Why do you ask?”

She looked around again before speaking. “It’s just,” she gave the practically empty café another sweeping look, “we heard you’ve got a garden gnome working for you.”

Working for me was one way to put it. “And?”

“Kiv and I were raised in the Seelie courts. This stays between us, of course.”

“Of course.”

“We just wanted to warn you about him.”

“Warnme?”

Kiv arrived with my cappuccino and scone. “She’s making it sound weird. We only wanted to tell you not to ever trade him to another fae,” they said. “His kind are highly prized back home, and not in a good way. The Unseelie work gnomes to death in their poison gardens, and the Seelie aren’t any better.”

Faery fae were their own type of paranormal and only loosely related to the terrifying fae of historical folklore, but Mom had taught me they were not a people to be underestimated.

“As long as the gnome is with you, he’ll be fine,” Gela said. “Just make arrangements for his care in case something happens. You don’t want him being auctioned off in the courts.”

Because the faeries seemed genuinely concerned for Cecil, I took their warning to heart. “His name is Cecil, and he’s under my protection. Make sure that gets around.”

“Sure, Betty.” Gela smiled. “Let him know he’s safe with us.”

I wasn’t surprised she knew my name; I came in here regularly. Still, it was the first time she’d used it in conversation.

One more connection to the town I’m trying so hard to let go of.

“You haven’t met him yet,” I said. “Might want to reserve judgment.”

Gela burst out laughing. “Handful, is he?”

“Cecil is a whole armful. Of dynamite. With a short fuse.”

“Hey, do you or Dynamite Cecil happen to grow culinary lavender?” Kiv asked. “I’m looking for a local supplier. It’s hard to find organic growers.”

“As a matter of fact…”

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