Welcome to Fae Cafe (High Court of the Coffee Bean Book 1)
Welcome to Fae Cafe: Chapter 7

Kate stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A girl with dark, wine-red hair in a messy bun, tired hazel eyes, and a ridiculous, bruising scratch on her forehead stared back. The face was one she barely recognized in this state. She ripped her elastic out and her wild hair billowed free over her shoulders. Frankly, she looked like a cross between a clown that hadn’t slept in seventeen days and a Barbie that had been melted in the microwave.

Kate hadn’t been watching the girl across the street this week. The redhead wasn’t home much, but when she was, Kate spent too many hours spying like a lunatic and trying to muster up the courage to go over and say hi. Kate had moved into this apartment six months ago, and her tongue still felt fat when she thought about going over to tell the girl who she was.

Now, after the forehead-bashing alley incident, Kate probably just seemed like an idiot who flung herself into a bad situation for no reason. She slapped a hand over her eyes as she thought about how in the world she was going to introduce herself after that gong show.

Also, she killed someone yesterday morning. So, there was that life-altering event to take into consideration, too.

“Hi, I’m Kate. I meddle in other people’s business because I can’t stop myself from getting involved. Oh, also, I kill people sometimes. I probably won’t kill you, though. Hopefully.”

“Was that really only yesterday?” she mumbled to herself as she ran a cloth under cold water.

She winced as she dabbed it against her throbbing forehead.

When she was finished, she leaned with her palms against the counter, staring into the mirror where she saw monstrous turquoise eyes instead of tired hazel ones. Even after the long, exciting night, she couldn’t shake the blue-eyed guy from her head. He would have been pretty if he wasn’t so frightening.

“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered to the girl in the mirror, wondering how she could think such a thought after he’d stormed into her café and pushed her against the wall. She couldn’t stand pushy guys. Though, it was him telling her flat out that he wanted her to die that was the real dealbreaker.

Even after Kate had smoked her forehead on the wall in the alley, her first thought had been of him. It was like she wondered if he’d seen it. Though she couldn’t imagine why she wondered about him at all. If her life was a horror novel, this was the part where she’d run screaming into the forest, and he’d stalk her through the trees to her gritty, gruesome end.

She grabbed her brush off the counter and began yanking it through her hair. There was no point in bothering with makeup today when her forehead looked like a glowing red beacon.

Thirty minutes later, Kate pushed out the café door. She half-jogged down the street, balancing a piping hot latte as she took the long way around the block to avoid Ben’s convenience store. She flicked through red-tag flights on her phone as she moved. She’d never been on a plane before, but Greece was starting to sound like a good option for a trip. Or forever.

Her heart began to feel less heavy as she made a plan. She could sit by the sea and eat Greek salads while sipping on cool, fresh fruit drinks. Maybe they had cafés in Greece. Maybe she could open a café there instead with French pastries and English tea and goodies from all over Europe like a cozy Travel Romance novel.

Her phone buzzed, and she stifled a yawn as she answered it. “Mm?” It was more of a moan than a hello. If she thought she was capable of sleeping, she would have gone back to bed this morning. But she didn’t want to be in the café building alone.

“We had to let him go, Kate.”

Kate stopped walking. “What?”

“Not to sound judgey, but the guy was pretty adamant about his story. Are you sure you didn’t step into that punch?” Lily asked.

Kate chewed on her lip. “Maybe a little.”

“Kate, I know how worried you get about the girl across the street, but she’s an adult. She can handle her own problems. This guy doesn’t really fit the profile of someone who randomly punches people.”

“He was yelling at her while she was crying!”

“Well, that girl doesn’t have a single mark on her body to show us. I don’t have any evidence an assault happened because you didn’t come in with them, and the girl is agreeing that you basically forced him to strike your shoulder.”

Kate released an exasperated sigh and set her latte on a bench. She dragged a hand through her hair. “Maybe he’s learned his lesson already just from getting taken in.”

“Kate,” Lily said.

“Yeah?”

“Stop trying to play God. Let me chase the real bad guys.”

“Fine,” Kate said through a mixed mumble and grunt. She rigidly adjusted the fit of her yellow sweater.

“There’s another solution, you know.” Lily’s phone cut out for a moment, and Kate turned toward the distant cell tower like that might give her a better signal. “You can join the force like I’ve always said you should. Then you can catch all the bad guys you want.”

“No way,” Kate said. “I shouldn’t go anywhere near the station ever again.”

A long silence was all that came through the phone before Lily finally spoke again. “There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight. Do you want me to stay over?”

Kate swallowed. “No.”

“They’re calling for stormy weather all week.”

“I know.”

Another pass of silence. A pair of birds fluttered by and landed in a tree by the path. They started singing.

“Well, you know where to replace me if you need me. Have a good class,” Lily said.

The click of Lily hanging up came through the speaker. Kate slid the phone into her book bag and grabbed her latte from the bench to finish her walk-jog to the university. She stole a wary glance at the morning sky on the way. The clouds still looked white.

Crisp leaves drifted from the trees, sparkling the morning air with twirling browns and spinning yellows, crafting a blanket of windblown maple confetti over the campus walkway. Kate sipped her latte, rolling cinnamon and nutmeg over her tongue and soothing her spinning, aching mind with the comforts of milk and espresso as she marched up the stairs. The great stone building of historic architecture swallowed her in.

Professor Palmer’s voice trickled through the student crowd. Kate passed him and Professor Eres deep in conversation.

“…and I’m talking about the strange happenings at this university. You know the library incident, and the growling in the floor…”

“You’re blaming it on mythical creatures again? Come on, Palmer. No one believes that nonsense. You’ve been teaching mythology for too long.”

Kate slowed her walk. She’d heard the rumours about the school library like everybody else. They’d circulated like wildfire over the summer when a pack of students trashed the place and ripped up half the books. No one had been arrested yet.

Kate swallowed, thinking about how the turquoise-eyed “Officer Riley” had called her Human.

“Mr. Palmer,” she said, cutting into the professors’ conversation. “Can I meet with you after my literature class this morning?”

Professor Palmer raised an eyebrow. “I suppose, Miss…?”

“I’m Kate Kole. And I have some questions about… some of the things you teach.”

She felt her cheeks warm when Professor Eres gave her a doubtful look, as though he wondered why any student would want an audience with the school’s “crazy professor.” She ignored him and waited for Professor Palmer’s answer. “I’m a writer,” Kate clarified. “I’m writing a mythology-based high fantasy novel.”

Professor Palmer seemed to grow irritated the moment she said, “fantasy novel”, but he nodded. “I’ll be in my office all morning,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.” Kate mustered a smile and turned for her classroom. As she did, her gaze snagged on someone who didn’t belong with the young adults and book bags, and she sighed.

Five-year-old Gracelynn Morris spun in circles in the middle of the hall where students twice her height pushed by. The little girl’s eyes were brimmed with tears. One of her shoelaces was untied and her nose was running. She wiped it with the back of her sleeve.

“Are you lost?” Kate asked as she approached the girl and squatted to a knee. She hadn’t seen Gracelynn since her summer job at the daycare facility. Mrs. Morris had been teaching summer classes at the university.

Gracelynn burst into tears at the sight of her. “Miss Kate! I can’t replace my mommy!”

Kate checked her watch. “I’ll take you to the teacher’s lounge to replace her. Let’s go.”

Gracelynn sniffed as Kate took her hand and began leading her down the hall. “Are you coming back to daycare again next summer?” the little girl asked through a wail as they walked.

“No, I’m going to be a barista,” Kate said, reaching over to smear a fat tear off Gracelynn’s cheek.

“A ba-rees-tah?”

Kate laughed. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Miss Kate,” Gracelynn said again. “I’ll only feel better if you sing the daffodils song for me.”

“Wait, what? You want me to sing? Here?” Kate chuckled again and shook her head as she headed for the busiest hallway intersection in the building. “I can’t do that right in the middle of the hall. Let’s replace your mom before I’m late or I’m going to be totally implausible.”

Gracelynn walked for a few seconds before she asked, “Miss Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“What does implausible mean?”

Kate opened her mouth to answer, but she paused. She twisted her lips to the side as she thought about it. “Honestly,” she cleared her throat and lowered her voice, “I’m not actually sure.”

Kate rushed into her classroom ten minutes later and sat at her usual desk, relieved she still made it before the lecture started. She slid on her glasses and pulled out her phone, her attention catching on the background photo of a woman with dark, wavy hair beneath a knit toque, a man with light, hazel eyes like hers, and two tweens tossing snow at them. The picture was taken the same day as the ones on Grandma Lewis’s end table. It had been a sunny day, even though the air was cold. The snow had been slightly damp—perfect for packing into snowballs.

Kate stared at the photo until Professor Stanner launched into a lecture about popular books and their character-driven plotlines. He went on for the better part of an hour, repeating himself at least a dozen times as though him saying things over and over would magically transform any students within earshot into geniuses.

Kate rubbed her temples, thinking of everything except for the topic of literature class. She had no idea what Professor Stanner was talking about anyway; she skipped her last two classes to help Lily get the café ready. They were still a month away from opening, at least. Stacks of delivery boxes rested in the café’s entryway. After Kate had failed miserably to lift them, they’d sat there for over a week.

Her fingers flicked the corner pages of Bella Stone, feeling the brittle, liquid-stained paper. She repeated the motion as she eavesdropped on the whispering girls behind her.

“Did you see that guy who just came in? I’m positive he’s never been in this class before.” The girl had a distinct nasally sounding voice. It would have been good for the narration of a villain in an audiobook.

“How do you know that? Maybe he’s always sat at the back,” another girl said.

“No, I would have remembered if he was ever in this room with us. Do you think he just joined our class? Do you think he has a girlfriend?”

“I’m asking him to Sophie’s party on Saturday. I call dibs.”

Grunts and snickers erupted from the girls, but they suddenly went quiet.

The chair beside Kate moved. Someone sat down.

“What did I miss?” a voice whispered. It took Kate a moment to realize the guy was talking to her.

“A really boring chat about character-driven plots,” she answered without looking up.

“Ah. My favourite.”

Kate pulled off her glasses and shoved the book away from herself. She was sure the guy was smiling, but she ignored him. His deep, husky voice said enough. She wondered if he used it for something nice like singing, or if he used it to get girls to pay attention to him.

Based on how sociable he was being, there was a 376% chance it was the latter.

The guy reached over and tapped the stained novel. “You must drink coffee—”

“I’m not really in the mood for chit-chat,” Kate admitted. She kept her gaze on Professor Stanner to prove it. A second passed when he didn’t respond, and she wondered if she’d been too harsh. She bit the end of her tongue as she contemplated a nice, yet “this isn’t an invitation to talk” type of thing to say. But a low, dark chuckle escaped the guy, stopping her from saying anything at all.

“As you wish. Human,” he said first.

Kate jumped at the shrill screaming of the class bell. Students stood from their chairs with screeches and clatters, but Kate stayed put, her ears ringing as Professor Stanner quickly scrambled through the last few seconds of his speech.

The guy didn’t leave.

Kate grabbed her novel and shoved it into her bag. She braced to stand, but the guy reached toward her, and she slowed her movements, refusing to look at him.

He took a gentle hold of her chin. His other hand was fastened tightly around the strap of her book bag still attached to her shoulder.

She contemplated leaving her bag behind, but before she could, he turned her face toward his. Kate met a pair of cold turquoise irises, and heat sailed through her abdomen.

“Officer Riley…” she rasped.

A mean smile formed over his mouth. “Not even close.”

He grabbed her chair between her legs, turned it, and yanked her toward him. The chair screeched through the classroom. He leaned in, coming so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks. Kate stopped breathing.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, not daring to move her lips too much this close.

“Just this, Human.”

Earthy and floral fragrances swept in as he placed his sneering mouth against hers. The kiss was soft, almost delicate. Warmth sailed down Kate’s chest and into her abdomen like hot tea.

“Get a room,” someone behind them mumbled.

Not-Officer-Riley kept his lips pressed firmly against hers for another second of unbearable temperature. His long lashes brushed her cheek. His flowery scent enveloped her senses.

Kate’s eyes were wide when he pulled away, taking the smells of petals and sweet pollen with him.

He looked calm. Pleased with himself. Proud, even.

She slapped him.

The person behind them who grunted before stifled a laugh, and a few of the remaining students whispered. Some of them stood and shuffled out of the classroom, and new students made their way in for the next lecture. The room filled with chatter again as the next class found their seats.

The guy stared in silence. He looked more stunned than he had in the café.

“Don’t touch me,” Kate said.

At the front, Professor Stanner put his hands on his hips. “What’s all the fuss about?” he asked their section.

Neither the guy nor Kate answered.

Kate’s chair squeaked when she stood. The guy didn’t stop her this time as she grabbed her bookbag and bounded down the aisle, out of the classroom, across the hall, and into the stairwell. Her mind raced. Her heart raced faster.

She looked over her shoulder as she descended the stairs. She almost made it to the bottom before two strong hands appeared over the rail. Kate shrieked as she was lifted off her feet and pulled into the shadow of the stairs. Her back came against a cold wall.

The guy’s ash-brown hair was dishevelled, his turquoise eyes glittered in the dimness, and he emitted a terrible and bone-shuddering presence.

“Kiss me again, Human,” he demanded. “Immediately.”

“Let me go,” she whispered, but her words were too quiet to be a real threat.

The guy looked back and forth between her eyes, a pinch of frustration pulling at his face. But his mouth recovered its mean smile a second later. “Queensbane, you must have known I’d come for you,” he said instead. “No one kills a fairy and lives.”

Kate tried to tug his hands off. It only made him smile wider.

Laughter filled the stairwell above, and the guy’s smile fell. His hands tightened slightly on Kate’s sides as a group of students scampered down. The second the students appeared around the landing, his hands slid off Kate.

He waited, his dark-lashed gaze roaming over the mountain tattoo on the side of her neck, then travelling up to the swelling gash on her forehead. There his attention stayed as the students clamoured by.

“I’m surprised you let him hit you,” he murmured with bland curiosity.

It took Kate a moment to realize what he was talking about. Her hand flew to her tender forehead. “How did you know…” He sneered again, and she paled. “Stay away from me,” she whispered.

The humour in his face melted away, replaced by a chilling glare. “Absolutely not.”

When the last student reached the floor, Kate sprang out from between the guy and the wall and fell into step behind the group. She kept in pace with them until she reached the doors, wringing her trembling fingers together.

A low, menacing chuckle filled the stairwell behind her. She was almost too far away to hear what he said next:

“Yes, run from me little human. I’ll only play games with you. But my assassins will replace you soon enough, and they don’t have the patience for games like I do.”

His words rang in her ears the whole way through the main hall. All she wanted to do was throw her shoes at him and shout, “Creep!” but she didn’t stop moving. She didn’t even look back over her shoulder.

She took a right turn when the path split and sped through the adjacent hall to the opposite side of the building, scanning the nameplates on the office doors as she moved. When she didn’t see the door she wanted, she headed for the stairs and went back up to the second level.

Kate practically sprinted into Professor Palmer’s office when she found his name, and she slammed the door shut behind her. When she turned around, she found the professor wide-eyed, sitting at his desk with a hand over his heart.

“Sorry,” Kate said, panting. She opened her mouth to come up with a story about why she came in like that, but instead she blurted. “I’m in trouble! I’m being followed by someone… or something…”

Professor Palmer blinked behind his glasses. A half eaten peanut butter sandwich lay on his desk with no plate beneath. Crumbs were everywhere.

Kate waited, shifting her footing. She expected the professor to call security, but instead, he checked his watch, stood, collected his briefcase and coat, and said, “Finally. Follow me.” With one dramatic swipe, he flung his whole peanut butter sandwich into the garbage beside his desk.

He marched past her to the door and swung it open, peering both ways down the hall over his glasses. Kate swore he was suppressing a tiny, eager smile.

Without warning, Professor Palmer took off down the hall like a speed walker. Kate scrambled after him, trying to balance her bookbag strap on her shoulder. Even crammed between other moving students, Kate’s skin felt warm, and she felt exposed, too out in the open. Professor Palmer didn’t say a word as he hurried through the fire doors, down the stairs, and came out into the cold fall air while stuffing his arms into his coat.

They moved past the university buildings, into the city, and came to a street of magnificent, glassy skyscrapers. The air smelled of exhaust and damp earth this far into the city, laced with just a little bit of this professor’s rumoured madness.

“How long have you been outrunning this mythological creature?” Professor Palmer finally spoke as he squinted up at the buildings.

“Um, about two days. I…” Kate bit her tongue. “I killed one of them. It was a total accident.”

Palmer stopped walking and turned toward her. He didn’t look surprised or horrified. He looked impressed.

“How?”

She blushed. “I kicked him into a table.”

“Hmm.” Palmer nodded, thinking that through. “Why? Did it attack you? Did you provoke it?” He looked her over, eyeing her forehead in particular. “You seem the sort to provoke an innocent creature,” he said, more to himself.

Kate’s face changed and she stood taller. “He was not innocent.”

Palmer grunted and stuffed his free hand into his coat pocket. “Your parents must have a hard time with you,” he thought aloud.

“I don’t have parents.” Kate wasn’t sure why she told him. She hadn’t told anyone since high school. She’d kept that part of her past far away from her new name, her new hair, her new tattoo, and her new life.

But Professor Palmer’s face lit up. “You don’t? Excellent!” he said with a big smile.

In an instant, he turned and half-ran to a building with large glass doors. Kate watched with an odd face as he approached a keypad, ignoring the doorman, and jammed his thumb into a yellow button while the doorman eyed him. Kate had the strangest impulse to take notes so that the next time she needed to act crazy, she would hit the nail on the head.

“I’m here for Freida Nightingale,” Professor Palmer leaned in and said into a tiny microphone.

The words barely left his mouth before a side door swung open, and an old woman with long silver hair, lush red lips, and deep black lashes appeared. She wore a navy business suit and expensive looking heels.

“I told you never to come here,” she said coldly to Palmer.

“We need to attend the meeting,” the professor told her.

“No males allowed. You know that.” The woman folded her arms. “And no humans, either.” She stole a glance at Kate standing there.

“Yes, well, she’s being chased. And…” Palmer leaned in with a satisfied smile. “She’s an orphan,” he articulated, “who needs a fairy godmother.”

The woman’s gaze darted back to Kate. Her red lips bunched at the side. After a moment, she said, “If you come here again, I’ll make you forget who you are, and everything you know.”

She slammed the door shut.

Professor Palmer turned back to Kate, scratching his chin.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but that didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. There is a chance I’ve made things worse,” he admitted. “Now I suppose you wait.”

“Wait for what?” Kate looked back the way they came, expecting to see a pretty-eyed, handsy guy in a police uniform heading their way.

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that. They’ll cut out my tongue if I do,” Professor Palmer mumbled, more to himself. Without warning, he brushed past her toward the bus stop.

Panic swelled in Kate’s throat. “Wait… that’s it? You’re just going to leave me here?” she called after him, sure all the students who whispered about this man being a lunatic were spot on. “Wait!”

“You should keep moving!” Palmer called back. “Waiting in one place will let them catch up with you!”

A bus swept to a stop and Kate watched the professor step on. He walked past the bus aisle windows and found a seat at the back. The bus snorted out a puff of exhaust and took off again a second later. Palmer didn’t even look back at Kate from his window seat.

Kate slowly lifted a hand to her chest, feeling the wild thudding of her heart as the bus reached the end of the road, turned left, and disappeared around the buildings.

Everything that happened in the last half hour felt like a dream. Even the last moments of Professor Palmer bringing her here.

Where was here?

Kate looked around, realizing she hadn’t paid attention to the turns they took, and she had no idea how to get back to her apartment.

It was early afternoon by the time Kate found the right police patrol car parked on the curb in front of the Street Meat food truck. Lily and Connor were cleaning up their lunchtime garbage. Both of them had exhaustion rings around their eyes and looked like they’d give their whole life savings to be able to crawl into bed and sleep for days.

Kate fiddled with a loose string on her coat sleeve as she waited for the crosswalk light to turn. She sprinted across the road the second it changed, and she reached the officers out of breath.

“Lil.”

Both Lily and Connor turned at the sound of her voice.

“We need to talk.” Kate cleared her throat and smoothed down her wild hair that looked more purple than normal in the direct sunlight.

Lily looked her over. “No kidding.” She grabbed Connor’s garbage, too, and carried it over to the trash can. “Give us a minute, Connor,” she said when she came back.

“No.” Connor flashed a gloating smile. “You two don’t have secrets from me.”

Lily glared at her partner.

“Forget it. Our shift ends in thirty minutes. Longest shift of my life,” she said to Kate. “Can you wait until then to talk? We can meet back at the café.”

Kate scratched her head. “Uh… yeah.”

Lily mumbled something about going to use the bathroom and turned for the nearest storefront. Connor stood a little taller after she left, his chest puffing out. He reached to flick a loose hair away from Kate’s face.

Kate pushed his hand off.

“Keep your paws to yourself, Connor,” she said. “I’m seriously not in the mood.”

Connor snorted. “You’re in no position to make demands. I know your secret, Kate,” he reminded her. “You’ve always kind of liked me anyway.”

Suddenly Kate wondered why she was still standing there with the one person she hated most in the world.

“Tell Lily I’ll see her later.” She turned toward the street again, but Connor chuckled.

“Don’t boss me around. Wait here and tell her yourself.”

Kate pretended not to hear and crossed back to her side of the street. Connor must have given up because he didn’t shout anything else as she left.

She walked for twenty minutes through the busy downtown crowd, fiddling with the loose string on her coat cuff until she ripped it off. When she rounded the block toward the café, her back warmed. It was like a light finger was tracing up her spine and over her shoulder—

Kate spun around.

People shifted to walk around her. Car engines and chatter washed the air, and Kate pressed her fingers against her chest to feel the fresh thuds. She inhaled and exhaled, pulling her cell phone from her pocket as she walked.

“Yes, run from me little human. I’ll only play games with you.”

She spun around again.

Where was he?

“Watch where you’re going,” a shaggy haired boy mumbled and swerved before they could collide.

Kate swallowed and waved in apology. Her thumb hovered over the call button on her phone.

“…my assassins will replace you soon enough…”

What kind of messed up prank was this? Kate was sure she’d never seen that turquoise-eyed fake cop before he showed up in her café. But in the university stairwell, he’d looked at her like he knew her.

Kate glanced down at her phone and realized the name on the screen was her grandmother’s. She’d been about to dial Grandma Lewis, of all people.

Kate dragged her feet forward, guessing it would take Lily another twenty minutes to show up at the café even after Kate got there. She took her thumb off the call button and slid her phone back into her pocket, scolding herself for nearly calling the one person in the world she was certain she should not call.

Mitten-covered hands pushed her shoulders. Kate spun just as she was shoved off the sidewalk.

She tried to hit him as she was forced into the alley—her hands balled into fists and came up in front of her—but she didn’t see wicked blue eyes, a mean smile, or a stolen police uniform.

A mid-twenties girl with big, curly hair blinked at Kate through large, bug-eyed glasses. A knit scarf wrapped her neck, and a high-collared knit sweater peeked out from a knit coat over top of that. Kate might have laughed at the sight another time, but with her pulse pounding in her ears, she could only stare.

“What are you running from?” the girl asked in a bored voice.

Kate blinked. “I think I was running from you,” she admitted.

The girl nodded like that made sense. “We’re going to be late for the meeting.” She pointed her mitt in a random direction and began heading through the alley. Her boots sloshed through dry leaves every other step, and she walked with a slight limp.

Kate didn’t follow.

The girl paused and turned back. “Oh, I forgot. I’m supposed to give you this.” The girl’s mitted hand disappeared into her coat pocket and brought out a postcard. She came back and handed it to Kate, then she left again, kicking the leaves.

Kate turned the card over. Pink yarn wove around the edges like an embellishment. Written on the page were a few simple words:

TO: THE HUMAN

YOU’RE INVITED

TO WHAT: THE KNITTING CLUB

WHERE: THE YARN & STITCH

WHEN: NOW

Kate looked back up at the girl covered in knitted attire, and her mouth parted in disbelief. If this really was a messed-up prank, someone had gone to great lengths to make it detailed and believable.

A finger jabbed Kate’s back, and she shrieked and whirled. The alley behind her was empty.

“Keep up or I’ll poke you again!” the girl called back as she disappeared around the building.

These had to be the people Professor Palmer had been trying to get her to before. Kate sprang after the girl, gripping the card in her fist.

The girl’s wild, curly hair bobbed above the crowd—the only map Kate had to follow. Kate wove through couples and moms pushing strollers, trying not to lose sight. The girl didn’t stop to wait even once; she kept moving, kept her attention forward, her back to Kate.

After ten minutes of battling the city hustle, they reached a narrow storefront tucked between two quaint shops. A chipped sign hung over a tinted window that said: Yarn & Stitch. The curly-haired girl pushed through the door. It slammed shut behind her.

Kate stood outside, looking both ways down the street. The girl didn’t come back out again.

Chimes filled the space as Kate opened the door and poked her head in. Fragrances of cinnamon, herbal tea, and warm vanilla flooded her senses, too. She closed the door behind her, eyeing a steaming, old-fashioned teapot on a table in the corner with trays of cracker-coated sandwiches and macaroons. In the middle of the store, three Victorian style couches made a “U” shape. They were filled with women—a few youthful, some middle aged, some old—hunched over, knitting.

“It seems you’re still alive.” An elderly woman with a bun atop her head rose from her seat, and strands of pink yarn spilled off her legs. Kate realized it was the same woman from the skyscraper, only she looked different now. Now she wore no makeup and was covered head to toe in yarn outfit pieces.

She waved Kate forward. “You can call me Freida. That’s my unhidden name.”

Kate spotted the curly-haired girl among them who’d found her in the street. A half-scribbled name tag was on her sweater now that said: HAZEL. The girl was focussed on knitting a scarf and paid Kate no more attention.

“Um… I don’t know how to knit,” Kate said, wondering why in the world she bothered to tell them that. A few chuckles rose from the older ladies.

“You’re not here to knit.” Freida rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Just pretend for a while.”

Kate hesitated.

“My assassins will replace you soon enough.”

She slid her book bag off her shoulder and wandered in with slow steps. When she sank into the last seat on the edge of a couch, Freida grabbed a ball of mint yarn and stuffed it into her hands with two long gray needles. A woman across the couches slid a small dish with a light blue macaroon toward Kate.

“I’m supposed to pretend to do this?” Kate made a face, and a woman with a large red braid pointed with her needle toward a video camera in the shop’s corner.

“They can see us, but they can’t hear us in here,” Freida said as she sat back down and picked up her yarn. “You’ve been black marked, Kate Kole,” she added. “The fae Prince has come to kill you. And he’ll succeed.”

The yarn tumbled from Kate’s fingers, but she caught it before it hit the floor. “What did you just say?” She gripped the ball.

“We don’t allow humans into our knitting club. But we took a vote, and I suppose we want to ask you a few questions before you’re dead. Most of all, we wish to know why you killed that fae the other morning? Did someone pay you in gold to do it? You can’t trust the gold, you know. It’s rarely real.”

Kate stammered, “Did you say… fae?”

“No one kills a fairy and lives.”

Freida sighed. “Is she deaf, Gretchen? I did say fae, right?” she asked the woman with the red braid beside her.

The woman—Gretchen—nodded but didn’t look up from her knitting.

“Fae,” Freida said it loudly and articulate this time, like Kate was stupid. “Otherwise known as fair folk, elves, pixies, dokkaebi, yojeong, or any number of other names depending on which culture in this world your folklore derives from, but most commonly, fairies. Haven’t you seen the fae Prince, yet? Haven’t you noticed his ears?” Freida shoved her hair aside to reveal a pointed ear with a heavy, opal clip-on earring hanging from the lobe.

“I met him,” Kate said, trying not to react to Freida’s pointed ear. She couldn’t look away from it. It was like Freida was a character from every children’s fairy tale she’d ever read. “He’s pretending to be a police officer and he totally kissed me out of the blue,” she said, and her cheeks warmed.

A few moans lifted from the group, and Freida grimaced. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” But she paused. “Wait, he kissed you and you’re not longing to race to him, or having dreams of him, or wanting to move heaven and earth to see him?” she asked, and Kate made a repulsed face.

“No way!”

A few shrill giggles lifted from the group.

“It must have reversed,” Hazel muttered from her seat. “Joke’s on him,” she then said with a grin that showed a row of wide, twisted teeth.

Kate set her yarn and needles down on the table in the middle. “Is this a joke?” she asked. “Or are you really talking about a fae, like something from a fantasy book?”

“Ah. I see you’re well read.” Freida smiled.

“Yeah, well… I read a lot when I was younger.”

A few needles slowed their knitting. One of the women grew teary-eyed and took in a shaky inhale, and the atmosphere in the room became glum in a heartbeat. A girl sucked in a nose-full of snot, wiped her sleeve over her face, then tossed down her knitting on the table with a clatter and stomped off to a room in the back where Kate couldn’t see.

“What did I say?” Kate asked, and Freida set down her knitting with a sigh.

“It’s your tone, Kate Kole. We all know that tone. We’ve all suffered and lost ones we love. Like you have.”

“How do you know… I mean…” Kate dropped her gaze to the carpet as the air in the room turned heavy. “I never said I lost someone.”

“You can learn a person’s whole life story from a tone,” the teary-eyed old woman across from her said.

Freida pursed her lips. She snatched her knitting back up and began working twice as fast. “I suppose Palmer was right, though I haven’t been a fairy godmother in nearly ten faeborn years,” she mumbled. “But first, I think you could use a good sweater.”

Kate stood. “I don’t need any of that,” she said. “Listen, some guy is saying he wants me to die, and you’re telling me he’s a fae prince?! I’m dead serious that I will walk out of here and call the police if this is a joke. I only came here because I thought you could help—”

“Why do you think I’m making you a sweater?” Freida interrupted. “And if I’m going to come out of retirement for this nonsense, you’re best off to not ask questions and just listen. We have only five more minutes until knitting club is over, and then we can’t speak of anything of the faeborn-related until next week. Do you understand, Human?”

Kate shut her mouth.

“Perfect. And don’t ever threaten to call the police on us again,” Freida scolded. “We have kindly invited you into our knitting club, Kate Kole, even though you will be dead in a matter of days, maybe even hours. But perhaps, if you’re smart, and with some help from your very skilled fairy godmother, you can figure out the answers you need to live. Unfortunately, almost all fairies are tricky, manipulative, cruel, and would jump at the opportunity to torment a human. You cannot trust a fairy. Not even us, really. Not even me.”

Kate searched the faces around the circle for traces of suppressed laughter, but every woman was looking down at their knitting. Hazel was stuffing her face with cracker sandwiches.

“How can you tell me to trust you and then warn me not to trust you in the same sentence—”

“I didn’t tell you to trust me. And don’t ask me to intervene and save you from the Prince, Human. I can’t.” Freida glanced up from her work to shoot Kate a look. “I can only nudge you toward the answers since fairies can rarely give straight answers. The fairy-kind cannot speak the name of the place we are from, nor can we speak to direct any human on how to replace it. It’s the same for the ancient Book of Rules and Masteries. It’s just not possible—our mouths won’t move to do it. However, you seem well read and intelligent. If you want our help, you’ll have to follow the signs.”

The small door on a cuckoo clock sprang open in the corner, and a bird popped out with a chime. All the ladies tossed down their knitting at once. Gretchen reached over for one last macaroon and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. Crumbs tumbled down her chin into her braid.

“It seems we’re out of time. Have a lovely day, Kate Kole, and don’t be afraid of using a real name.”

Kate stood, her ball of yarn rolling off her knees and hitting the floor after all. “Wait—”

“No more questions.” Gretchen pointed to the cuckoo clock with her needle again and a lob of macaroon fell onto the coffee table from her mouth. “Knitting club is over.”

“Until next week.” Freida slid her bag onto her shoulder. “I do hope you survive until then, Kate. But it’s unlikely. I suppose we won’t get to hear your story after all.”

The women stuffed their balls of yarn into their bags and left one by one. Kate quickly grabbed her book bag and followed them out.

“Wait,” she said again as she reached the street, but every woman had gone in a different direction. They moved so fast; she couldn’t have followed them even if she’d sprinted.