Page 12 of Wynter

Which is when several things happen all at once. First, the back of the postal worker’s coat bursts. I mean, literally explodes with feathers shooting out and flying toward the table. For a second, my brain conjures thoughts of divine intervention—I mean white feathers, angels, it makes sense. That is, until I hear Julian curse.

Whatever Amber’s mate was trying to do, I’m sure it wasn’t blowing up the postal worker’s coat. But his wonky magic has an unexpected side-effect, because air escaping the coat propels the stroller—which the man is lying on top of—away from the table. Not too fast, but just enough for us to be able to pull it to a stop.

It’s a close call, but the table suddenly drops and crashes to the floor mere inches away from the man and baby. The floorboards vibrate beneath my feet, and I fall to my knees, finally sucking in cold air. Because, it turns out, I was so focused on stopping the table that I forgot to breathe.

The postal worker falls to his knees, too, but he’s busy feathering his baby with kisses while errant feathers rain down around them.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he murmurs over and over while the crowd outside nearly drowns out his words as everyone starts to cheer.

I didn’t realize my fight with Ghost had drawn an audience, but it turns out that tossing mugs, chairs, and tables out the cafe window and onto the sidewalk brings Silver Springs residents running. That or they just hang out outside Jewels Cafe all the time, waiting to see what Julian will blow up next.

“Is anyone hurt?” Amber—who’s now a mix of troll limbs, Yeti body, and mermaid head with pink hair—asks.

The postal worker glances at her and gapes. When he finally seems to snap out of it, he shakes his head. “No, thank the Gods.” He shoots a quick glance at the heavens—or, in this case, the Jewels Cafe ceiling. Then he turns to Amber and his jaw drops. “What the…”

He struggles to form words, and I don’t blame him. Between Amber’s shifting issues, the fact that he and his baby nearly got pummeled by a table, and the general state of Jewels Cafe… anyone would be at a loss. I definitely am, and Ghost… is no longer standing where he was a few seconds ago.

I quickly scan the crowd and catch sight of him pushing past a red-skinned demon before disappearing from sight. Again. Leaving. Again.

And just like that, I’m suddenly back at graduation, my heart breaking as I watch him walk out of my life without looking back.

“Zoe, you’re shivering,” Amber says, and I realize she’s right.

“I’ll get my coat,” I tell her, flicking my wrist. Amber and Julian both grimace, and the postal worker ducks in fear when my coat zooms past. Which is when what I’ve done finally sinks in.

My magic nearly killed someone. It completely destroyed the cafe. And like always, Ghost isn’t here to face the music. Or lack of music, since the only thing I can hear is the murmuring crowd outside and the whistling wind.

Because the floor to ceiling window is shattered. The front door is gone. Gusts of cold wind blow into the cafe, sending feathers floating across the floor. A floor littered with broken Jewels Cafe mugs, chair legs, overturned tables, and dented barstools. The path of destruction leads outside all the way to the sidewalk. Where the poor Pumpkin Spice Latte sign, which has withstood a year of rain and snow, now lies broken clear in half.

This is worse than anything Julian’s wonky magic has ever done. Worse than anything I’ve ever been called in to clean. It’s a complete and utter mess.

“I’ll clean everything. I swear,” I tell Amber, who’s too busy being an elk with mouse ears and one human foot to reply. “And I’ll pay for the damage. You can take it out of my paycheck.”

A paycheck that probably won’t be enough. A paycheck I need to make rent. A paycheck I won’t get if I can’t save the Cleanly Den.

“Don’t worry about the damage,” Julian says.

“How can I not worry? The cafe—”

“Forget about the cafe. What matters is that no one was hurt,” Julian says resolutely.

“Exactly,” Amber adds in the few seconds she manages to maintain human form.

“But—”

“Your magic hasn’t gone wonky in all the time I’ve known you. You were long overdue,” Julian adds with a pointed glance at Shifter Roulette Amber, who’s mostly herself if you don’t count the pink skin, pink hair, and the tail.

“Wonky…” I repeat as I slip on my coat and wish I could disappear inside it.

“Everyone’s powers do that once in a while,” Julian says.

“No, they don’t.”

“Of course they do. And you didn’t mean to break anything. That’s what matters.”

Which doesn’t help, since I was willing to sacrifice anything in sight to beat Ghost.

“Hey, what happened to the detective?” he asks, as if reading my mind, before I can explain that wonky magic isn’t to blame.