Haven
Hazy pulled back a creeping vine from the café window to peer out onto the street. The pixie waitress was never more reminded of Faere Trade’s magic than when she saw the world beyond it through the magically hidden, one-way windows. She frowned at the jarring juxtaposition between the drab, litter-strewn, downtown street outside and the verdant greenery that grew over and all around the inside of the café, reminiscent of the enchanted forests her kind used to live in — that her family still lived in — before the magical community revealed itself to the wider, human world.
At first, when she’d initially left her family’s ancestral home, Hazy had been so excited to see and experience the human world. Magic was great and all, but fairytales didn’t happen in the magical world; they happened in the human one. She’d been so sure that, in the more mundane parts of world where magic felt rare and special, somehow — some way — she would too.
She soon found out that rare and special weren’t always good things to be. That, surrounded by humans who’d been raised on fairytales and myths, she was too often seen as a spectacle, rather than a living being. Too many humans took one look at her and saw a shortcut, easy route to all their hopes and dreams, never even considering that Hazy might have a few of her own. It’d been only a few weeks in the human world before Hazy had just needed a break.
So she’d come here. To Faere Trade, the region’s largest haven place. A sanctuary for magical creatures from the often overwhelming, frequently unwelcoming, and even sometimes dangerous mundane world. Here they didn’t need to hide who they were and Hazy, for one, had been grateful for some place in the big, bad city where she could let her wings loose. It might be her job, but Faere Trade was also her safe space.
And she was determined to protect it.
“What are you glaring at?” Hazy turned to see San, her boss and owner of Faere Trade, gazing over her shoulder. The witch frowned. “Tables five and eight need to be bussed and table six’s order has been up for, like, five minutes.”
Hazy winced and let the thick, hanging vines fall like a twisted curtain over the sunlit glass. “Sorry, San, I’ll get right on it.”
San shook her head. “I already sent Francis out to table six and the lunch rush is dying down. So tell me what’s got you so distracted?”
Frowning, Hazy waved at the world outside Faere Trade. “There’s someone out there.”
San raised an eyebrow. “Someone?”
“A human,” Hazy said pointedly, her wings instinctively twitching. “Lurking outside the café.” Her nose crinkled as she looked at them through the pane.
All humans seemed tall to pixies, who came in all kinds of sizes — from small enough to slip in through a keyhole to the size of a child just on the cusp of not believing. At just under four-and-a-half feet, Hazy was used to being loomed over by overgrown humans.
Yet there was something… almost fragile about this particular human. While more than a foot-and-a-half taller than Hazy, they still seemed to always raise themselves up on their tiptoes. Even scanning from across the street or bending at the waist to inscrutably study the pavement just outside the building, the strange human would teeter on unsteadily arched feet as if the added inches would somehow give them more sight. Even with the height difference, Hazy swore, the human’s slight, off-kilter frame always looked precariously on the verge of tripping over.
Hazy huffed, wishing — for all their sakes — the human would just go home. “They’ve been out there for, like, an hour, just pacing the street over and over again.” They’d even stopped right in front of Faere Trade’s door and stared for a solid six minutes as if tempted to come in.
Which was ridiculous.
Hazy had set the most updated way-wards herself and, with the new glamour spell she’d used, it not only made the café invisible to the human eye, but it ought to have undetectably deterred any from coming too close. Most magic, by nature, called to humans, often luring or enticing them near. But way-wards — laboriously laid in conjunction with layers of protection charms and spells — warded spaces from those not meant to be there.
And this stubbornly loitering human did not belong here!
Hazy’s lip curled irritatedly. “I’ll clear five and eight and stop by six, before double-checking the wards outside.” They had to be glitching. That was the only explanation. Maybe — if they were still out there — she’d even try talking to the human. Just to see what they were up to.
“Don’t,” warned San.
Hazy straightened, not even realizing she’d turned away from San to stare out the window again. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t mess with the human,” San said with her hands on her hips. “The wards are fine. We’d be overrun with human tourists and gawkers, if they weren’t and you know it. And the more attention you give them, the more attention that’ll bring to the café and the magic hiding it.” She shook her head. “Leave it alone.”
Hazy sighed. San was right. She should walk away. Should get back to work. And she would. After mentally making a note to check the wards after everyone left for the day. Just to be sure.
* * *
They were back!
Hazy looked up from the wet rag she was mopping up a spilled vanilla affogato laced with a shot of confidence elixir and two shots of caramel syrup to see that dally-lagging loiterer squinting their eyes at the ought-to-have-been-hidden, magically one-way, only-see-out, cannot-see-in windows. Yet that… that… that human certainly looked like they could spy inside!
Hazy leaned closer to the glass, fluttering her wings to lift herself off her feet just enough to stare into the curiously searching gaze. They couldn’t really see through the spell, could they? She focused on those deep, dark brown eyes. Deep set and with tired bags that appeared almost bruised, those eyes had a dreamy quality, like they were forever stuck in that fuzzy, liminal moment right before or immediately after sleep. Hazy all but jumped when they blinked and — for a moment — she would have sworn they could see her.
But that was impossible. She’d checked all the spells and wards and charms last night before locking up the café and again this morning before opening up. There was absolutely no way a human could break through her spellwork.
Except. Here. They. Were.
“Huh,” San said as she passed on her way back to the kitchen. “Your human’s back.”
Plopping down on her feet again, Hazy rolled her eyes at that, not appreciating the overtly possessive pronoun or overly amused tone San was using. Squeezing the soggy wash rag in her fist, Hazy huffed. “I don’t understand why or how they’re here.”
San waved her hands dismissively. “They probably have some magic somewhere in their lineage. Some great-great-great aunt who dabbled with kitchen magic or some long-lost ancestor who got lost in the Underhill. Enough magic in their blood to have an inkling of what’s here, but not enough to get inside.” She narrowed her gaze at Hazy. “Unless we do something to draw them in.”
Hazy backed away from the glass. Who, her? Hazy didn’t want that human — didn’t want any human — anywhere near here. There was no way she was going to do anything to encourage the human, much less invite them in.
“If we leave them alone,” San insisted as she made her way toward the kitchen, “they’ll eventually get bored and leave.”
Except the human did leave yesterday. Before they came right back today. And the next day. And the next day. And the one after that. For exactly forty-two minutes; she’d timed it. For forty-two minutes, they would linger and creep along the block, examining every inch.
And, every time, San would scoldingly remind Hazy to leave it be. But how could she when, with every breath and peep, this mettling mortal was messing with her safe space?! Hazy tapped her foot and worried her lip, even as she stared at the human separated from her by a thin sheet of glass, the beginnings of a plan fluttering like wings in her skull.
* * *
The next day, Hazy was ready. Blinking blearily from staying up too late researching, she came into work early to tinker with the wards. She diligently sprinkled copal ash and black pepper along the edges of the café’s property lines to keep out unwanted visitors. Holding tight to intention, she whispered ancient words to the pre-dawn winds, asking them to watch over the protected haven. For a full half-hour, she pressed her hands to the Faere Trade door and infused it with as much warding energy as she could without passing out.
There.
If that didn’t keep people out, Hazy didn’t know what would. Almost excited for midday, she forced a smile on her face all through the morning. She tried not to tap her toe impatiently while seating or serving customers as her gaze felt drawn to the clock. Still, she found herself subtly rushing brunchers out the door, offering to-go boxes to those who lingered too long after paying their tab.
She knew she shouldn’t; it was bad customer service and would cost her in tips. But she needed extra time to really pitch in before the lunch rush, in the hopes that no one missed her too much when it finally came.
She was determined to be there when the human arrived. So, with an apologetic glance at her coworkers, Hazy quietly snuck out the back, just as a large group of suit-clad, neo-Vlad vampires from the brokerage firm down the street came in for the best cup of espresso-infused O-Neg in the city. They were fussy customers, so particular about the exact temperature the brew should be at for peak taste and viscosity, the precise ratio of caffeine to blood sugar, not to mention the proper location for the best and most ethically sourced donors. They could talk a person’s ear off about their views on the perfect cup of their favorite pick-me-up. Hazy often wondered if they’d all missed their calling as baristas, secretly wishing they could trade jobs instead of stocks or whatever it was they did in their fancy offices. They were a lot to handle on a personal level, but Hazy was sure — work-wise — no one should miss her.
She had a mission. Feeling fairly sure about the outcome — given the grueling hours of research she’d done last night and the tasking work she’d put in this morning — she still wanted to be sure. She wanted to watch that interloping human walk right on by the building, none the wiser.
She gripped the corner of the nondescript brick wall that housed the rather remarkable café, peeking around the side to peer at the street facing Faere Trade. Holding her breath, she spotted them approaching. They had that same dazed, dreamy look in their eyes as their gaze swept all along the rather bland and uninteresting block. Hazy narrowed her gaze at the storage company and temp agency that flanked the café. She wrinkled her nose at the hardware and convenience stores across the way. None of them were as fascinating as this human’s wide-eyed wonder and curiosity made them appear to be. So what in this and all the worlds beyond were they looking at?
Again, they stopped right in front of Faere Trade’s door, staring almost… longingly at it. With an irritated huff, Hazy pressed her palms harder into the walls, feeling the slight hum of her spells. The magic was there and, if the pulse running through her senses was any indication, it was strong.
So why wasn’t it working?
Still pouting, she turned as a group of human brokers, with their own chainstore brand to-go cups of straight-up cold brew coffee, stumbled back as they spotted their vampire colleagues exiting the café.
“There you are!” one of them called out. “We wondered where you’d gone. We thought we’d tag along with you, since you said you were getting coffee, but we didn’t see you there.”
One of the vampires smiled, flashing a fang cheekily. “We have a place we like.”
“Ooo,” another human cooed, “I love a new recommendation.”
The vampire chuckled as they shook their cup, the slosh within audibly thicker than a traditional cup of joe. “I don’t know if this place is quite to your tastes.”
“For sure, for sure,” the coworker acknowledged. “But would still be cool to see. I’ve never been to a magical place. It’s in the area?” Hazy watched as the guy’s gaze scoped around the street, skating over the very building they were standing in front of. The building his vampire coworkers had just walked out of.
So the wards were working. As intended, they were turning the eyes and attention of mortals away.
Mostly.
She frowned as she saw her human standing unnecessarily on tiptoe as they unapologetically eavesdropped on the brokers’ conversation, even as the vampires deftly steered their colleagues back toward their office.
Hazy huffed. She knew there was nothing wrong with her spellwork. She’d been diligent and flawless. No, there was something wrong with this human. And, even though she knew Faere Trade’s lunch crowd must surely be in full rush now, she was determined to figure out exactly what that something was.
With a brief look in the windows’ reflection, she checked her glamour. While the café’s inner magic allowed others to see past her glamour — to work and live safely within its walls as her true self alongside others just like her — she diligently applied the requisite ritualistic spell to look more human every morning before and after work, to avoid the chaos her winged form could cause on her commute. She blinked at the five-foot-four-inch version of herself reflected back at her, even as her wings twitched unseen in the glass behind her back. Perfect.
Don’t.
She practically felt San’s warning ring through her memory. Hazy probably shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t be out here and certainly shouldn’t be making her way toward the café entrance and the silly human still hovering there. Paying any attention to the human risked drawing their attention to the café and the magic carefully hidden — by her — within.
But their attention was already drawn. And Hazy wanted to know how and why. She needed to know. So she could stop it. She needed more knowledge and Oberon knew none of her tried-and-true books or trusted websites had helped her so far.
So raising up a bit on her wings to match her glamour’s height, she tapped the human on their shoulder, admiring their slim yet sturdy set. “I’m sorry, but you look lost. Do you need directions?”
The human gave a slight jerk, surprised, as they blinked blankly at Hazy. “To where?”
Hazy shook her head and shrugged. “Depends on where you want to go. I’ve seen you wander the area for a while now. Like I said, you seem lost.” She held out her hand. “I’m Hazy.”
Their brow furrowed as they stared at her outstretched hand. “Excuse me?”
“Hazy,” she repeated. “Short for Hazel. My parents thought it’d be cute to name their kids after nuts. We — and the other kids in school with us — found it less cute, so we shortened them to Hazy, Mondy, and Chessie.”
“Hazelnut. Almond. And… Chestnut?”
Hazy shrugged. “Like I said, less cute.” She wiggled her hand, silently inviting the human to take it. A lot could be learned from a touch, magically speaking, even a brief one. “And you?”
“Do I think it’s cute?” the human asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s certainly… interesting, I suppose.”
Hazy fought a confused smile, finding the human certainly interesting as well. “What’s your name?” she clarified.
“Oh,” they said, shaking their head. “Of course.” Wiping their palm on their pantleg, they finally shook Hazy’s hand. “I’m Jaime.”
It wasn’t their given name. The fae were sensitive to things like that, the inherent power in names and titles. As their palms touched, the sweet, simple sound of it resonated within Hazy warmly. The name felt actively chosen, not passively received. It felt truer than most names did. Interesting, indeed. Still holding tight to their hand and that feeling of truth, Hazel used the power of it to ask, “Are you lost, Jaime?”
Not letting go either, they shook their head. “I’m not lost.” They looked up a bit, as if searching the midday sky for the right words. “I’m whatever the exact opposite of lost is.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She tilted her head at the confused look on their face. She got the impression Jaime didn’t quite either. “I can help,” she offered, “if you tell me what you’re looking for.”
“This.” They gestured around themselves a bit wildly. “I’ve spent my entire life feeling like I’m never where I’m supposed to be. Feeling like I’m… always late or lost or left behind. But here?” They shook their head. “I can’t explain it but I have never felt more like this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” A deep blush colored their fair skin as they abruptly dropped Hazy’s hand and stepped back. With a shake of their head, they winced. “I don’t know why I just said that.”
Suddenly sorry for taking a truth Hazy hadn’t expected to hear — and certainly one Jaime hadn’t intended to give — Hazy shuffled back as well. “I get that,” she admitted, feeling honor-bound to trade one truth for another. “I’m pretty new to the city too and I don’t quite feel like I fit in yet either.” A part of her feared she never would, that this sticky feeling of failure for foolishly leaving her childhood home would never fade, but that truth felt too secret to share. She coughed. “But I know there’s a coffee place not far from here,” she said, pointing away from the café and toward the way the human brokers had come. She shrugged. “It may not solve anything, but I find a little sugar and caffeine, to lift the spirits, never hurts.”
Jaime smiled politely and nodded. “Thanks; I’ll keep that in mind.” But, even as Hazy left to head back into Faere Trade, she felt Jaime’s presence linger within the buzzy boundaries of her wards.
* * *
It was a week later and, no matter what Hazy tried, not much had changed. She’d tried every trick and tip she could find to strengthen or tweak the wards. The cat’s-eye stones she’d added to the way-ward sites had only intrigued Jaime, leading to a forty-minute talk about crystals that had eaten up Hazy’s entire lunch break. After spending three hours drawing a perfect charcoal crows seal on the back wall of the café, she’d come out to see Jaime posting pictures of it on their social media, gushingly insisting on tagging and friending Hazy as the artist.
It wasn’t until San saw Hazy planting plextranthus caninus along the walkway leading to the entry that she finally put a stop to Hazy’s meddling. “The piss-off plant? Really?” San said, scowling at the newly landscaped strip of soil. “Is your little human some scurrying pest nibbling at your garden?” San shook her head as Hazy stood to sweep the dirt off her knees. “No, don’t get up. You’re pulling that all back up again. We can’t have that growing here; it’s a health hazard.”
Hazy pouted. “It’s nontoxic.”
Popping a hip, San scoffed. “To humans.” Under her breath, she added, “Which rather defeats the point, now doesn’t it?” She sighed. “We have were- and shapeshifting customers, as well as animal spirits and familiars, who frequent this café, who will be affected by this plant’s mere presence. Not to mention children and mundane pets and native fauna, who could be seriously harmed if they accidentally ingest it. At best, this is going to lead to migraines, nausea, and complaints. At worst?” San shook her head. “We’re going to have hospital visits and a lawsuit on our hands.” Pointing at Hazy’s hard work, she ordered. “I want it all gone before we open.”
Begrudgingly seeing San‘s point, Hazy huffed as she sank down to her knees on the sidewalk again. It had taken half an hour past opening to put the walkway back the way it had been. And, of course, San had been right; Hazy had gotten some pretty nasty glares from a few of their werewolf customers.
Feeling defeated in her plans before the morning crowd had even left was new. Hazy scowled as she furiously scrubbed dirt from beneath her fingernails.
“Here.” San shoved a steaming mug at her.
Hazy sniffed the aromatic brew smelling lavender, sage, and rosemary. “A forgetting tonic?” She cocked her head. “What’s this for?”
San rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s for you.” She made a frustrated sound. “You need to let this go. Let Jaime go.” She folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. “Before someone gets hurt.”
Hazy knew she should listen to San. San was her boss and her friend. She was the smartest, wisest, most accomplished and powerful witch she knew. So, while Hazy wasn’t quite desperate enough to resort to magic about it, she resolved to stay in all through lunch. Didn’t even peek out the window.
Yet she swore she could feel Jaime outside the café. Felt each pacing footstep they took along the block like a tick in her head or a beat in her chest. She did that for three days, before the pressure of it threatened to crack.
By then, she couldn’t get Jaime out of her head. The eager sound of their voice, every time they greeted Hazy. The way their dark eyes lit up like stars when they smiled. Every shift and sway of their awkwardly lithe body that seemed to speak a language more expressive than words.
The thoughts and memories wouldn’t stop, just kept reeling through her mind no matter how hard she worked or what she did to distract — to distance — herself. Even after the lunch hour ended. Even when she knew Jaime was gone for the day. Hell, even at home, long after her shift was done and Hazy, strained and exhausted, had already left work behind. Still the human somehow never strayed far from her thoughts.
Lying in bed, staring at her ceiling instead of sleeping, Hazy snorted to herself. Maybe she should have drunk San’s tonic.
She bolted up as a sudden thought struck her.
Or have them drink it.
Why hadn’t Hazy thought of that? It was perfect. If she made the tonic for Jaime, if she could get them to forget Faere Trade, they’d stop coming back.
Hazy swallowed hard and rubbed at a sudden, inexplicable tightness in her chest. She shivered and tucked her covers around herself tightly, even as apprehension seeped like ice beneath her skin. She shook her head, willing the weird sense of worry away. She could do this. She should. She would. She had to. It was for the best.
For both of them.
* * *
Hazy clutched the to-go mug in her hand, the pleasantly distracting scent wafting up from the cup. She ought to head to the front of the building, but she couldn’t quite make her feet step out of the shadows along the side wall. Hidden behind the brick line, she watched Jaime go about their midday ritual.
This would be the last time she’d ever see it. The thought made her body freeze and tense. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To keep her haven secure. To make sure Faere Trade remained a home to those who, like her, depended on the safety of its walls. Then why did every step forward feel weighed down? Why did her heart sink as Jaime noticed her and waved excitedly.
They grinned as Hazy approached. “I haven’t seen you around lately; I was worried.”
Hazy forced herself to smile back. “Been busy,” she said, her voice sounding strained even to her own ear. She lifted a strangely shaky hand, offering the drink. “I brought you this to make it up to you.”
Jaime took the cup and beamed. “Thank you. You didn’t need to.”
But she did. This was what they both needed. She stared as Jaime’s fingers touched their name that Hazy had written on the side of the cup. And the intricate, apotropaic snake design she’d sketched in marker that bled into the waxy cardboard.
She watched Jaime inhale deeply. “Is it tea? It smells… floral?”
Hazy nodded. “That’s the lavender. It’s a special house blend.” She’d used San’s basic forgetting tonic recipe as a base, layering it with the snake seal, not only steal the memories of this place from them but to blind them entirely to the magic here. And adding their name, using the truth and power of it, focused and strengthened the spell. This would work. It had to.
“Cool.” Jaime pursed their lips into a bow and blew on the steaming brew before taking a sip. With the way they gripped the cup in their hands, the tip of their finger was poised at the open mouth of the snake, its pointed fangs parted to strike. “Yum!” As they took another, deeper drink, their finger smeared the marker, staining their skin green with the ink. “I’m not much of a tea drinker, but this is good.”
Hazy’s smile turned bittersweet as she thought of the liberal amount of wildflower honey she’d added to the tonic because she could tell, from all the pictures they posted online, Jaime had a weakness for sweets. “I’m glad you like it.” She watched their grip on the mug tighten as they tipped it so more of the tonic flowed into their waiting mouth. The moment made their fingers rub against the emerald ink, all but erasing their name and Hazy’s mark. Fisting her hand against the sudden aching clench in her gut, Hazy watched them drain the cup to the very last drop.
Her movements stilted, she took the finished paper cup from them. “I should go back now.” She swallowed hard and took a step back into the safety of her shadows and wards. “Farewell, Jaime.”
And, before she could let herself second-guess or regret what was already done, Hazy rushed inside and leaned against the heavy kitchen door. She shut her eyes and took several deep breaths as she tried to calm the anxiety creeping through her chest. It was over. Now her life could go back to the way it was. The way it was supposed to be.
San rushed through the door leading to the café. “What did you do?”
Hazy’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
San stormed toward her, her eyes angry and accusing. “I mean, what the hell did you do?” She threw her arm out toward the front of Faere Trade. “Your human is breaking down in front of my café.”
Hazy straightened. “What?” Without waiting for an answer, she rushed out through the crowded lunch service, most of whom had abandoned their tables to stare out the street-facing windows.
Hazy pushed her way to peer out the pane. At Jaime. Who was still pacing up and down the street but, instead of their usual fanciful exploration, each step seemed frantic and fraught. As their head turned this way and that — as if searching for something lost or taken — small, helpless sounds slipped from their trembling lips. Tears spilled from their eyes, the bright midday sun hiding nothing from the chittering crowd gathered around her.
“What’s wrong with them?” she heard someone say.
Her spine stiffened as she turned to see who’d said that. She could taste the bitter Nothing on her tongue, when her eye caught the smear of ink left on Jaime’s hand, almost instantly dousing that quick flare of defensive anger with a flood of guilt. She was what was wrong. She’d done this. She winced at the ink staining Jaime’s hand as they clutched their heaving chest as if they couldn’t quite breathe.
Hazy turned when she felt San’s hand on her shoulder. Surprised, she noticed that the crowd had dispersed, their collective attention turned back toward their food. Her nose twitched as the scent of San’s power mixed with the now magically reheated food. Hazy let out an involuntary laugh at the idea of one of the most omnipotent witches the world had ever known using her vast skills to warm-up lunch. San was nothing if not a consummate hostess. “Faere Trade is a haven place,” she told Hazy. “Do you know what that means?”
Hazy nodded. “It’s a safe place for the magical community.” Every magical being knew that. “It’s a place where we can be ourselves without worry or harm.”
“Is this who we are?”
Hazy blinked up at San as she looked out the window at Jaime with a frown. She knew she should answer San. Defend herself. Explain that she’d just wanted to protect this place, these people. She hadn’t meant… this. The desolate pain plain on Jaime’s face hurt to look at.
“It’s hard to live in a world not made for you. That reminds you daily, in small and grand ways, in sometimes irritating and sometimes horrifying ways, that you do not fit. That you don’t belong.” San’s words felt weighty — fell heavy — on Hazy. “Haven places, for all their wards to keep that world out, call out to and welcome those who need them.”
“I’m not lost. I’m whatever the exact opposite of lost is.” Jaime’s words echoed in Hazy’s mind. The wonder and peace of them had been so effortlessly joyful that, at the time, Hazy had dismissed it as the silly thoughts of a perplexing human.“I’ve spent my entire life feeling like I’m never where I’m supposed to be. Feeling like I’m… always late or lost or left behind. But here? I can’t explain it but I have never felt more like this is exactly where I’m meant to be.”
But now… the memory of those words was so devastatingly at odds with desolate misery now filling — drowning — Jaime’s dark eyes until it leaked down their cheeks. Hazy shook her head. “They’re human.” They were of the world. They belonged in it.
Yet Hazy remembered scrolling through their social media page, filled with more pictures of food than friends. Even the landscape portraits of the lit-up city at night or close-ups of graffiti felt lonely, like looking out at a world that never let you in.
“So were vampires before they were bitten or many monsters before they were cursed,” San said with a shrug. “So was I, all those centuries ago, before I cast my first spell.” San looked at Hazy’s wings that were fluttering tensely at her back. “You were born to magic, had it passed down to you through your blood. You knew it as your birthright every day of your life. But that isn’t the only way magic is granted.” She looked out the window again, as a pair of cops approached Jaime on the street. “Whether born into it or not, few of us chose this life. Magic — with its chaotic and ineffable whim — chooses us. For better or worse, and through no great act of will on their part, magic touched your human. Brought them here. Brought them you.” They watched as the cops forced a clearly panicking Jaime to sit on the curb with restraining hands on their slim, shaky shoulders. “I wonder, when they walk away from here, will they see themselves as gifted or cursed?”
Hazy’s wings lifted her off the ground in a horrified flap as she saw Jaime inconsolably jerk away from the cops’ attempt to subdue them, their elbow unintentionally rearing back to crack against one of the cop’s heads. The cop’s face flushed with fury as they reached behind their back for something on their belt. Without thinking, Hazy rushed out the door. “Stop!” she shouted, waving her arms in a desperate effort to get the cops’ attention on her and off Jaime. “Please stop. I know them.”
One of the cops pointed at Jaime, a pair of handcuffs in their hands. “You know this person?” Giving Jaime a sharp shake toward Hazy, trying to get a response from them, he asked, “Hey, you know them?”
Hazy frowned as she saw Jaime’s dazed eyes narrow on her, unsurely. Not waiting for Jaime to respond, not entirely sure any response from them would do either of them any favors thanks to her spell, she reached into her apron’s pocket and pulled out her phone. Pulling up the picture of them posing in front of her crow seal on Jaime’s page, she flashed it at the cops. “See, we’re friends.” She pushed her phone at the cops. “See, that’s us. I know them. I can help.”
The other cop narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on Jaime, making them wince. “We got a call about a person acting suspicious and causing a disruption on the street. Then we arrived on the scene to check it out and your friend assaulted a cop.”
Hazy held up her hands. “They didn’t mean it,” she insisted. “They’re upset and it was an accident. I’ll take them inside, calm them down.”
The cop blinked up at the building, their eyes narrowing on Faere Trade’s sign. His jaw tensed. “That’s one of those haven places, isn’t it?” He pulled his hands away from Jaime as a scowl pulled at his lips. “They one of… them?”
Hazy took the opportunity and took Jaime’s limp hand in hers, pulling them closer to her. She cringed as Jaime’s foot stumbled nearer, tripping through her glamour’s toes. She felt them jerk in surprise, their brow furrowing as they stared at their feet. She gripped their hand tighter, willing them not to pay so much attention that her glamour failed. But she felt it flicker, watching the cops’ eyes widen as it did. “They’re one of us,” Hazy said, her voice strong and unwavering, as she pushed Jaime behind her.
“And we take care of our own.” Hazy turned and saw San walking toward them. Looking closer, she saw Francis and some of her other coworkers in the doorway, their phones clearly pointed at them, recording. As Sand moved to stand tall beside them, she stared down the cops, her gaze firm but her smile kind. “Thank you for all your help. We’ll take it from here.”
If anyone thought it strange that the two policemen stepped back, backed down, they didn’t know San. Whether mundane or magic, people recognized power and San was powerful. Hazy herself wrapped an arm around Jaime’s shoulders as a shiver ran through them as the air practically crackled with tension. The cops shook their heads and glowered. “We’ll have to report this to the magical division. They’ll have questions.”
San simply nodded, but said nothing as the cops walked away. She didn’t have to. The officers might be authority figures, but this was her territory. This was their home. They would defend it and each other. Which now included Jaime. Hazy hovered over Jaime’s shoulder. They’re one of us. She felt the rush of power in that truth. And, while it strengthened her, she also recognized how familiar it felt. Almost from the start, San had referred to Jaime as your human, creating and cementing that connection. Speaking that bond into being. While the words felt powerful in this moment, they’d been true for a while now, even if Hazy hadn’t seen it yet.
But she did now.
“Let’s get them inside,” Francis said, handing Hazy a ceramic cup.
Taking it from him, she smelled the sweet-smelling tea. She smiled and held it out to Jaime. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”
“You said we’re friends?” Jaime asked, their voice quiet, unsure.
Hazy nodded. “Yeah,” she told them. “We’re friends.”
Jaime studied her for a moment, making her feel a little nervous. “You have wings.” They smiled as Hazy’s wings reflexively twitched. “They’re pretty.”
Hazy let out a laugh, liking how their voice sounded softer now, less strained. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Want to see more?”
Jaime’s dark eyes twinkled with curiosity. “More what?”
“Magic.”
Jaime sat up straighter. “How?”
Hazy nodded at the mug in their hands. And the enchanted drink that would let them see past glamours.
Clutching the mug, Jaime breathed in the comforting, welcoming steam from the tea and nodded. “It smells nice. Nutty.”
Hazy smiled. “It’s pistachio tea; you’ll like it.”
They held the mug closer but kept their gaze on Faere Trade’s sign, that familiar dreamy look on their face again. They turned to grin at Hazy. Before taking a long, deep sip.
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