Page 35

CELESTE

It was only about a quarter of a mile to town and Bartleby kept up a brisk space. I was glad the shoes I was wearing were flats—it would have been impossible to keep up with the impatient cat in heels.

Before I knew it, we were walking into a quaint little town that looked like it had been transplanted straight from New England. Come to think of it, where was Hidden Hollow geographically, I wondered? It certainly was north of Florida. I loved the gorgeous Fall weather and the trees filled with golden, orange, and crimson leaves. There was a little bite in the air that made me feel alive and the scent of dried leaves filled the crisp air.

There were a line of shops on one side of the street and some homes on the other side. I saw an ancient looking inn with a wide front porch. It had the outline of a lion’s head in red paint on a sign outside it.

“Oh—is that The Red Lion Inn?” I asked, Bartleby—though I felt strange talking to a cat in public. “Isn’t that where we’re supposed to go?”

“Not yet—first we need to get breakfast,” he replied. “Oh, hi, Frank.”

These last words were aimed at a man on the sidewalk on one side of the street. But actually no—it wasn’t a man. At least, he had a man’s body but the head of a bull. Wasn’t that a minotaur?

“Hey, Bart—good to see you again,” the bull-man snorted, nodding at the cat.

“Good to see you too. Is Goldie’s still going strong?” Bartleby asked him.

“Just had some of their special hay-pancakes for breakfast.” The minotaur patted his flat stomach and grinned. Then he nodded at me. “Hey, pretty lady—welcome to Hidden Hollow.”

“Er, thank you,” I said uncertainly. I’d never spoken to a minotaur before.

“Back off, Frank—the new witch in town is already spoken for,” Bartleby said.

“Sorry—can’t blame a guy for trying,” Frank the Minotaur shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling. “See you round,” he added as we continued down the street.

I saw several other stores I wanted to explore, including a “grocery emporium” which looked really intriguing. But Bartleby was on a mission—he spoke to several other people and magical creatures including what looked like an orc, a demon, and a freaking centaur. He introduced me each time as “the new witch in town,” and all of them were extremely friendly.

“I’m not actually a witch, you know,” I told him after the second time. “I have no idea how to do any kind of magic spells.”

“Doing spells isn’t what makes you a witch—any fool can try to do a spell. Just look at Natalie if you want proof of that,” he remarked. “It’s the magic inside you that makes you a witch—and you have plenty of magic. You just have to know how to use it.”

I didn’t know what to say to that but up ahead, I saw what looked like an old-fashioned diner with plate glass windows. Through the windows I saw booths with red vinyl seats and plenty of people sitting and eating and talking.

It looked like a homey, casual place. I felt a little overdressed in the pretty green dress but since there were so many strange looking people and creatures, I decided I didn’t care.

“Hurry up—open the door,” Bartleby said bossily. “You’re the one with opposable thumbs—use them!”

“All right, keep your fur on,” I said. I pulled open the door and we walked in.

At once, a pretty, plump woman with blonde hair in a waitress uniform came over.

“Hey there,” she said, smiling brightly at me. “You look new.”

“She is. Hey—down here!” Bartleby yowled.

“Oh, Bart!” The woman looked down in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t see you down there. Hey, I haven’t seen you in years—where’s Cordelia?”

“She passed to the other side, but she’s still running my life,” Bartleby said sourly. “Can we get a seat, Rosie? I’m starving.”

“You got it, Bart.” Rosie nodded. “Right this way.”

She led us to a booth, and I sat on one side and Bartleby sat on the other.

“You want the usual?” she asked the cat as he settled with his hind paws on the seat and his front paws on the table.

“Can of tuna in sardine oil,” he purred. “And my friend will have the pancakes.”

“Uh, not the hay pancakes, though,” I said, remembering what the Minotaur had said. “Just regular plain pancakes with no hay will be fine.”