Page 12 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

The gnome was a wild card when it came to other people, places, and plants. The reason he’d come into my life was because he’d led a garden revolt in a shifter trailer park outside town, resulting inseveral pissed-off wolves. I’d had to secure him in a spelled bag to get him home, and he’d made me pay for the indignity for months before finally settling in.

The manifestos he’d scrawled had been violent. At least, I assumed they were. He wrote in Gnomish, so I had only the pressure of the pen against the paper and his angry calligraphy to go by. Though the knife he’d stabbed into Señora Cervantes’s tire after she carelessly threw away the dandelions growing in her yard had been a pretty big hint.

“I’ll see if the fairies will throw in a honey stick for you, too. As a Cinco de Mayo gift.”

The tip of his hat pointed straight up, a sure sign he approved. Cecil expected to be celebrated on every holiday. Not sure Cinco de Mayo counted, but it was best to err on the side of caution with the little dude.

Two blocks south of the Siete Saguaros lay an old house the owners had converted into a coffee shop. Tall front windows gave passersby a glimpse of glossy hardwood floors, wrought iron bistro tables, and a wall mural with pink trumpet-shaped flowers.

I parked on the street in front of the Desert Rose Café and gave Cecil a series of warnings. He nodded solemnly and crawled onto my shoulder. He chitter-chanted a spell that made my ears tingle. My best guess was it was ano-see-emspell for humans. Invisibility spells that included paranormals took much longer.

Cousins Kiv and Gela Melliza were working the front counter. They looked like twins in their jeans, white T-shirts, and khaki aprons, each sporting hair the darkest shade of emerald.

Gela’s was shoulder-length, and today she had it partially hidden under a white bandana while she touched up a section of the desert rose mural behind the counter with a small paintbrush. She’d removed the elven memorabilia from that section of wall, and the tiny scrolls, mosaics, and minuscule silver, gold, and bronze boxes were on a pedestal table at her elbow.

The large desert rose hand-carved from a single piece of peltogyne,or purpleheart wood, remained in place, as a centerpiece to the mural.

“Hey, Gela. Hey, Kiv,” I said, upon entering.

“Hello, magic lady.” Kiv set a drink holder containing four iced coffees on the pickup counter. “Denise, your order’s ready.”

A short woman in leggings and a long T-shirt bounded forward, scooped up the order, and shot out the door.

Kiv made their way to the other end of the counter where I was standing. Their green hair was cropped short, revealing a pair of impressive cheekbones and brown-black eyes.

“Don’t tell me. A lavender scone and a large, iced—” They halted.

Gela appeared to pick up on their surprise, because she looked over her shoulder at me. “You brought him,” she said excitedly.

Definitely ano-see-umspell for humans only.

Kiv cleared their throat and did what could only be described as a cross between a curtsy and a bow. “Welcome to the Desert Rose Cafe, Mr. Cecil. We’re honored by your presence.”

Cecil chittered what sounded like a greeting and pointed to one of the fae artifacts on the table. He trotted down my arm and across the counter.

“Sure you can. They’re not much, but they’re a piece of home.”

“You’ll especially like this.” Gela handed him a small, gold box. “It’s inscribed with an elderberry wine recipe in ancient Gnomish. We haven’t been able to decipher it. Perhaps you can.”

The box was half the size of the gnome; still, he was able to lift it up and study the inscription. Kiv broke away from the group and started making my iced coffee. I hadn’t ordered anything, but they knew me well.

“Can you add a second scone for Cecil? And a honey straw? He likes sweet treats.”

They smiled. “Of course. Mr. Cecil, would you also like some tea? It’s on the house.”

He nodded, his hat flopping sideways.

“He especially likes basil tea, if you have it,”I said.

“I do. Not many people order it around here, but Gela and I are big fans.” As they prepared the items, I surveyed the rest of the café. The front patio was open, and three people sat in front of laptops at the bistro tables out there.

“Won’t be long until we have to shut down the patio,” Kiv said. “It’s already starting to heat up. June’s going to be brutal. No number of misters can counteract low desert heat.”

Kiv finished our order, and Gela carried Cecil over to us.

“Please come again,” she said, politely. “Kiv and I are honored to meet you. You are always welcome here.”

Gela’s pretty brown eyes met mine. “He’s good luck, you know.”

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