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October 5 - October 5, 2024
The only good thing about being completely alone was that you could burp, sneeze, cough, sing, or talk to yourself when you wanted, where you wanted, with no consequences.
“You need to touch the red circle if you want to be free of the mirror,” Shayne explained. “Otherwise, we’re trapped in this conversation forever.” Cress turned the mirror over to study it. “What a terrible, binding spell,” he said. “Only if you don’t poke the red circle.”
“It was a good kiss, too. It should have painted the heavens with gold and made the air smell of gingerberries,” Cress added with a mutter.
Thirty minutes later, three assassins sat around the café sipping warm pumpkin spice lattes and flipping the pages of their novels quietly.
“What about a Spearmint Ca-Fae Latte? With a magical touch,” Dranian said in a monotone voice from where he sorted milk and cream pods. “We can put a trick inside that’ll make human tongues tingle. And the drink can have those little crunchy bits of candy you sprinkle on top of whipped cream. Coffee should always have those in my opinion.”
“The magic stairs want to trap us here,” he muttered when they finally leapt off. “How outrageous.”
“Which of my assassins is your least favourite? I want to see if we picked the same one.”
“My mugs!” Shayne burst from the kitchen and sprinted to the door, flinging it open.
“Are you the fool who’s forcing our human to pay so many taxes?”
“Who’s Santa? And why must I help him?”
Kate turned to find a watercolour painting of a sunny countertop. Atop the counter was a detailed painting of a basket full of chocolate chip cookies.
“What is it, Mor?! Why does it squeeze like a bug?” “It’s a raisin.”
“This is human trickery of the highest sort!”
“I’ll deliver you to the human medical building,” Cress told Lily. “But make no mistake, Lily Baker, if you ever trick a fairy into eating a raisin cookie again, the sky deities will show no mercy. I hope you realize that what happened here today was punishment for that wretched cookie I ate this morning.”
“You’ll submit to my rulership unless you want your pretty, luminous hair to end up in fairy locks,”
