Page 29 of Welcome to Fae Cafe

Kate raised her hands in apology and turned for the sidewalk.

The entire walk back to the café, her hands tightened into fists as she tried to decide what to do next. No one would believe a band of old fae women had stolen her phone. No one believed she killed a fae, either.

No one but Lily.

“If you tell any other humans about me, that human officer outside will die beside you.”

Kate moaned, knowing full well that despite any threat, it was time to bring Lily into this madness.

Lily came to the café in the evening. Over a steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee, Kate told Lily everything from the murder of the golden-eyed boy to the knitting club that stole her phone. She didn’t tell Lily about the fae Prince, or that he was impersonating Officer Riley.

Lily listened in silence. After a while, she said, “I believe you.” But Kate’s shoulders dropped.

The look on Lily’s face told Kate that she didn’t.

The next morning, a pamphlet was waiting on the café counter when Kate came down. It listed options for reputable adult therapy. Kate sighed and stuffed it in the garbage on her way to the counter. She made a set of lattes with rigid movements and spilled a puddle of hot milk on the floor. After sliding the lattes into a tray, she grabbed a new cozy mystery novel from the bookshelf she was saving for a rainy day and tucked it under her arm.

Before heading to the university to find Professor Palmer, she set a hot caramel latte outside the rusted apartment door across the street where she knew the redhead would come out in exactly two minutes. She didn’t knock or leave a note.

9

Prince Cressica and How it All Started Wrong

Twenty-Four Faeborn Hours Ago

The fae Prince leaned against a brick wall, running his hands through his short hair and tilting his pointed ears to listen to his human target. She spoke into a glowing rectangular device that she held up to her ear. The distinct voice of Officer Lily Baker came back through it.

“We had to let him go, Kate,”Officer Lily’s voice said.

Kate Kole stopped walking. His human target appeared far too flustered. Cress watched her set a paper goblet on a bench as her rhythms pattered. He might have forced one of his own assassins to eat rocks for being so emotional and losing composure during a negotiation.

His gaze traced down the human’s yellow yarn sweater and the leather bag hanging on her arm. Her legs were quite slender in comparison to how a warrior’s ought to be. Her eyes seemed curious, too, as opposed to the hard, lethal darkness that haunted a killer’s, like his.

Truly, the mask she wove for herself was perfection. Anyone would be fooled, especially by how she sipped her paper-cupped beverage. She looked down instead of keeping her eyes up and alert, like she hadn’t a clue she was in danger. Even her burgundy hair was loose instead of tied back, fluttering in the cool breeze with the red leaves.

In every way, she did not appear ready for a fight.

Slipping from the building’s shade, Cress walked several paces behind, keeping her in view as she ascended the stairs into a large building of gray and black stones. If Kate Kole knew she was being followed, she showed no signs of it.

Humans filled the tight halls with their ugly, scrawny bodies and sweaty scent. Cress adjusted his hair to hide his lovely ears, keeping his sights on his target as he strode into the congested crowds. He came to a halt when he spotted her crouched before a chubby-cheeked childling. The child wiped snotty fluids from its weak human nose.

Truly, Cress had wondered since he arrived here why humans even had noses. They could hardly smell the truth or lies in the air, or the complex history interwoven into their own fragrances.

The childling began to cry in the hall. Cress rolled his eyes.

The rectangular device buzzed in his pocket, and he nearly sprang out of his faeborn flesh. He scrambled to draw out the glowing magical device—which Shayne sometimes called a magic mirror and sometimes called aphone. The sticky-fingered fairy had wasted no time pickpocketing to supply the assassins with magic mirrors so they might blend in.

A very close-up painting of Shayne’s face filled the rectangular mirror as it buzzed in Cress’s hand.

Cress cleared his throat and squinted at the screen. There were two circles to choose from: green and red. He chose red.

“Queensbane,” he cursed when the picture of Shayne disappeared. He turned the thing over. “Where did he go?” He put the device against his mouth anyway. “Shayne?” he called into it. He waited, but nothing happ—He released a shriek and nearly dropped the phone when it buzzed again.

The Prince glanced right and left, worried someone had heard his weak squeal. The humans all seemed preoccupied with their own human-y things.

When his faeborn heart settled, Cress chose the green button this time.

The screen changed, showing Shayne’s unmistakeable chin.

---