Brian’s eyes widen. “Are you sure everything’s okay up there?”
“Completely fine.”
“It sounds like someone’s moving furniture.”
“I’m rearranging.”
“At seven in the morning?”
“I’m an early riser.”
This is technically true. It’s just not the reason there are noises coming from my flat.
Brian blinks for several seconds. “But you’re here, standing in front of me. How are you rearranging furniture upstairs?”
“I am a witch,” I scowl. “This.” I gesture at my black on black outfit. “Is not merely an aesthetic.”
“Oh right! Of course.” Brian nods happily as if my answer explains everything.
I shake my head and thank my lucky stars that Brian is not the brightest. At least something is working out in my favour.
The espresso machine hisses. I focus on it with the intensity of someone absolutely not thinking about what an angry shadow being might be doing to their living room.
The morning rush starts. Customers filter in with their usual orders and their usual complaints about the weather. I make lattes. Brian charms everyone with his cult-survivor sunshine energy. Everything is perfectly normal.
Then there’s a crash from upstairs.
A proper crash. The kind of crash that sounds like something expensive just became something broken.
Every customer in the shop looks up at the ceiling.
“What,” says a woman in a business suit, “was that?”
“Plumbing,” I say immediately.
Brian looks at me. “I don’t think plumbing makes that sound.”
“Old pipes. Very temperamental.”
Another crash. This one sounds like it might be my homemade bookshelf. Or possibly my entire bedroom wall.
“Those are some aggressive pipes,” says the business woman.
“You have no idea,” I mutter.
I make her flat white with shaking hands. She takes it and sits down at a table, but she keeps glancing at the ceiling with an expression that suggests she’s reconsidering her choice of coffee shop.
Brian leans over and whispers, “Felix, seriously, is someone up there? Not just magically rearranging furniture?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because it really sounds like someone is up there. Someone who is very angry about something.”
He has no idea how accurate that is.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Everything is fine.”
From upstairs, there’s a sound like tearing fabric. Then a bang. Then what might be a roar or might be my imagination but is probably a roar.
