Authors: Erin Hayes
Edie
"Grande decaf nonfat latte with an extra shot and whipped cream," my coworker Ben announces, setting the marked coffee cup in front of me.
I stare blankly at it. "Whipped cream? On a nonfat?"
After working at Sacred Grounds Coffee for five months, I shouldn't be surprised, but with less than four hours of sleep, everything is harder for me to comprehend at the moment.
"Yeah," Ben says, unamused by my denseness. "Just do it, Edie." He gives me another weary glance before turning back to the register. Maybe my makeup isn’t covering my healing face as well as I had hoped.
I can't afford to be slow on a Saturday morning at a coffee shop. It's only ten o'clock, and already I've served up more drinks than I can count and there are plenty more lining up. A stress headache is brewing around my temples.
Two more coffee cups are set in front of me by Tammy, the other barista on the cash register. She runs through their equally picky orders and I nod along, even though they go out the other ear. My mind is murky at the moment, and I can't hold onto a single thought.
It's going to be a long day.
When I left school in order to help Graeme pay the bills, I thought that working at a coffee shop would be perfect. With daylight hours, it wouldn't impede my nightly hunts.
Yet, as I look down at the cups, I can't remember what's supposed to be easy about it.
Grande decaf nonfat latte, extra shot.
I fill up the portafilter with decaf coffee from the grinder. I twist it onto the grouphead, hit the shot buttons, and put the cup underneath it.
I prep the other two cups, feeling numb. Why didn't I call in sick today? After my breakdown in the bathroom last night, I dragged myself to bed and had horrible nightmares about Meghan's ghost body turning to a skeleton and accusing me of killing her. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well at all with what precious time I got in bed.
I froth the skim milk for the first order, my hand touching the bottom for temperature. Especially after long nights like last night, I hate that high-pitched noise of the steam stirring the milk. I wince, wondering if the other baristas think I'm hungover.
Time slips from me, and I reflexively snatch my hand from the bottom, hissing in pain at how hot the metal pitcher has gotten. I look down and the milk has curdled, and I suppress a groan that I can't serve it this way. I dump the milk, grab a new pitcher, and start again.
Now the customers are getting antsy waiting for their cuppa joes.
"Miss, where's my grande decaf nonfat latte?" the mousey man on the other side of the counter demands.
"It's…coming…" I say, trying to grab the coffee cup when the espresso machine finishes. Only, my aim is off, and I accidentally tip the coffee cup with two scalding hot shots of espresso.
It spills all over me.
Time stands still for a moment as the liquid burns my right hand and my leg where it's dripping down off the counter. In that first instant, I don't even feel the pain, but my body knows it's coming. My senses and my adrenaline spike, then everything comes crashing down on me and explodes.
I lose it.
When you're a vampire hunter with magic powers and you lose it, that's a bad thing, especially in front of a group of innocent people. Even if they are a bunch of grumpy customers.
My grip on my powers lessens, threatening go nuclear on the whole place. I've never experienced such a surge of angry power before, it's as if I want to let the dark side of the Force loose on everyone inside. My insides heat up to the point where I don't even notice my burned areas any more.
I have to stop it, otherwise something very bad is going to happen.
Stop it, Edie.
"FUCK!"
Through my haze of pain, I find the sink and turn the water on cold blast.
I throw my hand into the stream of water. It grounds me in an instant, and the fury and anger that I felt are now gone, leaving me alone in an exhausted shell. I slump over the sink, letting the water cascade over my blistering hand, bringing me back to sanity.
That was close. Too close.
Relief floods through me, and I breathe out deeply. Nothing bad happened. Everyone is safe.
I look up, and my cheeks color at the attention that I've drawn to myself. Everyone watches me with bewilderment plastered on their faces. The entire coffee shop is silent with all eyes turned on me. Even my manager Rob comes out of the back office to see what the ruckus is all about. I smile weakly, the pain in my hand forgotten. A thousand excuses and lies barge through my head, each one more ludicrous than the next. I can't tell everyone that I nearly exploded like a bomb. Anything else sounds like I overreacted. So I do what any normal, sane person would do.
I spin away from everything, the running water from the faucet forgotten, and head out to the alley behind the coffee shop, oddly reminding me of the alley I was in last night, even though I'm back in Austin.
The metal door slams behind me, leaving me alone.
A sob is stuck in my throat, and rather than let it out, I take out a smoke from the back pocket in my jeans. My hands shake so much as I try to light the cigarette between my trembling lips, I nearly lose everything altogether. The end takes light and I groan, combing a hand through my hair.
I could have really hurt people in there. My powers are growing faster than I can keep up with, and if something like being tired and spilling coffee on myself is enough to set me off like that, then I scare even myself.
"Shit." I take a spot on the edge of the steps and look out the buildings behind us.
Where am I going in my life? I'm stumbling around in the dark with little to go on to avenge Meghan's murder. I'm exhausted beyond belief, and I might have lost my job. I feel lost, tumbling around in an abyss of broken dreams and fate.
"Mom, Meghan.” I close my eyes. “What do I do?"
The door opens behind me, and Rob is standing there with his arms crossed.
"What the hell was that back there?" he asks.
"I spilled coffee on myself. It hurt." I keep my eyes wide.
"Edie," he says, his voice rough, "you're not allowed to smoke here."
Oh, right. The laws in Austin say that I can't smoke on restaurant premises or outside. I stub the cigarette on the ground in answer, knowing what's coming next.
He scrutinizes me for a few moments before speaking again. "Are you hungover?"
I shake my head with a bitter chuckle. "No. Just exhausted."
"You don't have anything to say for yourself? The way you acted back there?"
"I'm really sorry.” It’s all I can say. I genuinely feel that way, although I know that Rob thinks I'm being sarcastic. Who wouldn't think that way after an outburst like that? And I know I’ve been a difficult employee in the past—grumpy, getting orders wrong.
I know what’s coming next.
"Listen, Edie," Rob says in an even voice, although I can feel the fury underneath it, "go home. Don’t bother coming back."
I close my eyes. "Okay." I rise and take off the apron around my waist. "Thanks for having me, Rob," I say, handing it to him. "And, I truly am sorry."
His face is stoic as he takes the apron from me. I push past him back through the door and make a beeline for the breakroom. I don't want to speak with anyone, and I don't want to see their disapproving faces. I grab my jacket and my purse, duck my head down, and head out to my car. Someone calls my name, but I ignore it. They probably won't even remember who I am in another five months.
I get to my Lancer and sit inside. I'm not crying, which is good. It also scares me because it might mean I can no longer feel enough emotion to cry. I light up another cigarette and check my phone messages.
The latest text message makes me groan. It's from Jude.
dont worry about the coffee shop. u deserve better than that. & we need to talk. tonite.
What the hell is he doing keeping an eye on me like this? I didn’t think that he even knew where I work.
Worked.
Ugh, the thought makes me angry again. I thumb in a reply to him.
I deserve a lot different than this. I’ll text you about meeting later.
I send it. Then I check the other message. There's a text from Carl asking if I'm up for working out today. While I'm not up for that, I do want to talk to my cousin.
Rather than text him back, I call him, steeling myself for his cheery demeanor. I can really use that right now.
Carl answers on the first ring. "Yo, Edie! How you doin' cuz?"
"Peachy keen. I just lost my job."
"Oh. I'm sorry. That sucks."
I feel bad that I dropped that on him abruptly, but I need to talk to someone about this. I press a hand over my eyes and take a deep breath. "I spilled coffee on myself and nearly lost my grip on my powers."
"What?" Carl asks, his voice taking on a different cadence. "You nearly lost your grip? Edie, you've been thrown into walls by vampires before. How could spilling coffee on yourself do
that
?"
"I don't know. My powers… they're growing so fast, I can't get a handle on them."
There's a pause on Carl's end. "D'you think it is what my Mom said?" His voice is soft, unsure. "About your powers getting out of whack with the vampire virus in your system?"
Aunt Tessa found some writings from other Harkers who were bitten saying that their powers grew rapidly in a short amount of time and they each died horrible deaths within a year of being bitten. If my powers are progressing at the same rate as theirs did, it might mean that I don't have much time left.
"Maybe. I hoped it was because I'm The Harker now."
Carl scoffs. "Edie, you and I both know that Meghan never had trouble like this when she became the Harker."
"I know. I was just hoping." I lean back against the head rest. Finally, the words spill out of my mouth, the secret I've kept since last night. "I saw Meghan last night too."
"How?"
"Her ghost."
Carl goes silent again, although I can feel the shocked silence on it. "I don't remember you ever saying that you could see ghosts…"
"She's the first ghost that I've seen."
"I mean, seeing ghosts is like…super advanced magic."
"I know."
"How'd she look?" Although there was twelve years between their ages, Carl always adored his big cousin Meghan. Her death hit him nearly as hard as it did me.
I smile despite myself. "Like she was an extra on the Haunted Mansion ride. All see through and everything. I think she was trying to tell me something."
"You should come over," he says. "Talk to Mom about this."
"There's nothing she can do," I say. Other than hand me a charm or something, but the last time Aunt Tessa gave me a charm, I had an allergic reaction. Aunt Tessa dabbles in certain kinds of white magic and will often send her son out smelling like a potpourri vase. "Besides, I don't want anyone worrying about me.”
"Just come over," Carl insists. "Please? I haven't seen you in yonks."
"What's a 'yonk'?"
"It means forever. You're not getting out of coming here. Come on over. Mom might even fix you dinner."
"What are you doing now?" I ask, deciding that I'll come over only if he is there as well. "You're at your house?"
"Still speedrunning." He sounds like he's grinning.
I sigh, although it’s good-natured. I’m sure he hasn’t stopped playing video games since his message to me last night. "Fine. I'll come over."
Carl gives an excited whoop. I hang up, still smiling, and put away my phone.
Jude
Should I tell her about what Dean told me last night? Now?
I wipe my gloved hand over my face and look down at her text.
I deserve a lot different than this. I’ll text you about meeting later
Yes. She deserves a much different kind of life. She deserves better. Much better than these traitorous feelings I have for her.
“Easy, Jude,” I tell myself. Easier said than done.
She’s driving off from the Sacred Grounds Coffee Shop and following her is the only thing that’s keeping me from going in there and beating up the motherfucker that fired her. I couldn’t see what happened inside to make her run out into the alley, but I did see the guy who came out and talked with her. She looked shaken, resigned. I hate seeing that.
I’m nestled in a beat up white Honda Accord that I stole in the early hours of this morning simply because of its tinted windows. Even still, I’m wearing my trench coat with the hood over my face and gloves. It’s fucking bright today. I don’t remember what happened before I woke up with amnesia, but I suspect that even as a human, I didn’t like the sun much.
My right knee bounces up and down with anticipation. I really want to share what I have to say, but it’s something that I can’t say in a text message.
It takes every ounce of my restraint to set my phone down, but I know that I’ve made the right decision. I’ll leave her be. Nothing’s going to happen between now and nightfall. I’ll have to drop the bombshell on her. And everything is going to change.
In which case, I should get some sleep. Tonight is going to be interesting, I can already feel it.
“Stay safe,” I say. I turn the car on and drive off.