Page 3 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
Furthermore, most witches tended to live outside the cities, but when they did live in the cities, they tended to reside in run-down areas. They worked in bakeries, alehouses, greenhouses, herbalists’, or tailors’, depending on the witches’ specialities. But they were never held in high regard.
Yet he couldn’t hear any condescension in the man’s tone, only genuine curiosity.
“We’re hearth and kitchen witches.”
“You’re a witch?” The man leaned towards Jack, gaze flicking over his face.
Jack nodded. He fought the urge to lean in towards the man. He had an almost hypnotic manner about him.
Bloody hell, maybe he’s an incubus or siren!
Then he almost laughed at himself for the foolish idea. This man couldn’t be an incubus; he lacked the tail, horn, andwings. And he looked nothing like a siren. Skin and teeth were completely wrong.
Jack smiled. “We’re the only bakery in this part of the city that is owned and run by witches.”
The man looked around the room, eyes wide and brimming with wonder.
“That’s my familiar up there, Carrie.” Jack gestured to an old iguana sleeping on a shelf. The shelf had been put up by his mother years ago. Carrie liked to watch over the family.
“Oh. Is that a lizard?” He glanced at Jack. “I didn’t know lizards could be familiars!”
Jack nodded. “An iguana. Carrie was my mother’s familiar before she became mine. She’s old and spends most of her time napping.”
Familiars’ lives were naturally extended to match their witches’. Usually, familiars tended to die when their witches did. Jack thought that maybe Carrie hadn’t passed with their mother because their mother would have wanted Carrie to continue looking over them.
“Yes.” The man hummed. “Napping is pleasant.” He surveyed the room. “Especially in a place so warm and cosy. And you have Christmas decorations too!” He laughed, a light, bubbly sound.
Jack stared at the man. It didn’t seem like this grand servant looked down on their little bakery. But maybe he enjoyed slumming and visiting the poorer districts and their establishments.
“And is everyone in your family a witch?” the man asked.
“Yep.” Jack glanced at the back area of the bakery. Several of his siblings worked, rolling dough, mixing ingredients, and cutting dough into different cookie shapes. “We’ve even got a pixie who is a witch. My adopted brother.”
“And you all work together? How wonderful!” the man said.
Lacy came around behind the serving counter and joined Jack. She laughed, having overheard the last of what the man said. “Most of the time, it’s wonderful. But sometimes it can be a challenge.” She made a face.
The man laughed.
“I’m Lacy. Are you going to be a regular now you’ve visited our wonderful bakery?”
“Oh. Yes.” He gave a sharp nod. “I would like to come back.” He smiled shyly at Jack and Lacy. Then he reached into his pocket. “And how much do I owe you for the cookie?”
“Ten bells,” Jack said.
The man pulled out a small coin-purse. He counted out several coins and placed them on the counter. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Jack said.
“And what’s your name?” Lacy asked. “If you’re going to become a regular, we should know your name.”
“My name is Avery.” The man smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Avery. I’m Lacy, and this is my brother Jack.” She clapped Jack on the shoulder.
“Nice to meet you both.”
“You too,” Lacy said.
