“You know the payment is due first, Gloria, and this is a big bag, so we’ll need double.” She winks.
Gloria rolls her eyes and pushes her glasses up her nose. She bends behind the counter and pulls out two plates and places two carrot muffins on them. Aradia releases her grip on the bag and smiles at Gloria.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Can we get two hazelnut lattes as well, Gloria? I’ll pay for those obviously.”
“Of course.” She claps her hands together. “Take a seat and I’ll bring them over.”
We take a seat on the two large leather chairs in the bay window. The heat from the log burner makes us strip off our scarves and jumpers. The small cafe fills with the heat quickly. Gloria brings over our muffins and lattes, and we sit listening to the soft jazz coming out from the ancient speakers above us. Gloria returns to making more carrot muffins out the back leaving me and Aradia alone in the cafe. Billie Holiday singssoftly as I take a bite from Gloria’s famous carrot muffins.
“I hate to say the word, but these are the moistest cakes I have ever had.” I can feel my body tingle in pleasure.
The cream cheese topping drips down my chin. Aradia laughs at me and passes me a napkin.
“I told you.” She winks.
“I can see why you’ll never leave here,” I say through a mouthful of cake.
“That is a large reason, plus this place is history for us. Our family have lived here for as far back as census goes and more. The land is sacred. The nature around us here is part of our story. Our cottage has been there for many years. Rebuilt each time our family was torn apart.”
“What do you mean?” My brow furrows.
“We have always had to watch our backs, Harri.” She lowers her voice. “Being a witch is a heavy responsibility, and you must protect yourself. You’ll find we never tell anybody who we truly are. If the wrong person finds out… well, what I’m trying to say is there are still witch hunters out there. Just like us, born into a generation of who they are, witch hunters believe that we possess the power to help them in dark and evil ways. Many witches have been killed by which hunters for blood magic. They believe our blood can allow them to have our powers. Witches have disappeared never to be seen again, held hostage by these hunters. Trafficked for crazy amounts of money to those who wish to have power and riches.”
My stomach drops. “That’s awful,” I utter at the thought of generations torn apart and how this family secret really must stay that way forever.
Aradia nods. “It is. Hunters are far and few, but as long as we still exist, so will they. So, we must be careful.”
“What about Peter? You mentioned he thinks you’re a witch,” I question, worried about what she’s just told me.
“Thinks, never confirmed. Pete has grown up with spooky stories of the women who lived in our cottage who ruin crops and spoil their harvest. But it’s nothing more than that, stories. Plus, Peter, well, I personally know his family. They’re just humble farmers and nothing more sinister.”
“Have you ever met a witch hunter?” I ask intently.
Aradia looks uncomfortable. “Yes.”
“What was it like?”
“Like you’d expect.” She moves in her chair either from the heat of the burner or the question I have just asked.
The bell of the cafe rings and a little girl runs in dressed in a fluffy dressing gown and pyjamas.
“Nana!” she shouts.
Gloria sticks her head out from the back. “Two seconds, sweetheart!”
The little girl giggles and runs to hide behind the counter. Seconds later the bell rings again. In runs a man. Six-foot-something with messy dark hair and rugby playing shoulders. His body is big and muscular with softness around it. He has dazzling green eyes that look like emeralds set into his chiselled slightly stubbled face. His elvish cheeks are red and he’s puffing air in and out as he enters. He’s the most beautiful man I have ever seen. My stomach starts doing flips. My body starts to burn from the inside out. I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Lola! This isn’t funny.” He breathes heavily, holding his ribs with his hands.
“You found me.” The little girl pops out from the counter. He grabs her, flinging her into the air and tickling her until her giggles turn into hiccups. He places her down and Gloria comes out.
“She’s meant to be resting, Sam, not running about outside!” Gloria tuts and puts her arms out for the little girl, who gladly runs into them.
“Have you tried keeping Lola in bed when she wants to play?” He pants, still holding his ribcage.
She shakes her head with a smile and pours Lola a cup of milk and gives her a cookie. “You can sit in here until lunch then you must get some rest, Lola. You’re meant to be off with the flu!” Gloria warns but Lola smiles with a cute little milk moustache. I can imagine it’s ridiculously hard to stay mad at such a little darling.
“If she’s staying with you, can I go and help out Chris?” Sam asks.
