by Carmen Caine
“Hey, can you teach me how to do that?” I whispered my request.
“Well, look who’s here,” he replied softly, looking over my shoulder. “Thought he had a concert in L.A. tonight.”
I followed his gaze, surprised to see Jareth entering the coffee shop, wearing his trademark sunglasses, a black leather shirt with long laces randomly hanging from it, and a thick leather necklace that looked more like a collar. He’d fashioned his dark hair into a particularly wild style that practically obscured his face, a hairstyle designed to draw all eyes his way.
I rolled my eyes. He was obviously craving attention.
The coffee shop was only half full, but apparently there was enough of an audience for him to perform. With a loud, exaggerated sigh, he paused for dramatic effect before sprawling into a brown velvet chair by the window, his every move calculated to draw as many eyes his way possible.
A smattering of applause broke out. Apparently, we had a few Jareth fans hanging out.
I snorted in disgust as Jareth smugly shrugged with fake modesty.
Ignoring him, I glanced around, wondering where Rafael was. Surely, he’d come around soon, and that thought made my heartbeat pick up a little.
I firmly reminded myself that I merely wanted to know what our next move would be, but I knew I was lying.
I missed him. I just wanted to see him again.
And then I’d get down to the business of helping to trap the Tulpa and all the other things we needed to do.
“He’s so handsome!” one of Samantha’s baristas whispered to the other.
“He’s not really her boyfriend, right?” the other one asked.
I stifled a snort.
I didn’t know them very well. They usually worked mornings. I wanted to inform them that Jareth was a self-servicing jerk, but this time, I didn’t feel as strongly about it as I usually did.
I frowned, wondering what that meant.
Jareth chose that moment to saunter over and shamelessly flirt with the two baristas before approaching me. Leaning against the large glass case of pastries, he lifted his lip in a slight snarl of disapproval. “And the blueberry muffins? Where are they?”
The baristas clustered behind me and began to babble excuses, fluttering their hands.
“We’re out,” I informed him coldly, tapping the top of the counter with the tongs.
“Make some more then!” he retorted.
“Try something else.” I rolled my eyes at him. Selecting a pumpkin scone, I shoved it under his nose.
He grabbed it, broke it in half and popped an entire section into his mouth.
The baristas cooed and giggled.
I eyed him, a little vexed. Yes, he did have a bad-boy charm, but he just wasn’t my type.
I liked cool, sophisticated guys. Like Rafael.
I blushed a little at the thought.
“Nah,” Jareth said around a mouthful of scone. Tossing the remainder down onto the counter, he pronounced his judgment, “Not even close.”
“Then starve,” I said, putting the tongs away.
“Trying to get rid of me?” Jareth laughed and ordering a hot chocolate from Ellison, he shook hands with him and turned back to me. “You should hang around me more, Sydney. You could learn a lot.”
“Like what?” I asked acidly. “How to be the biggest jerk?”
“Ouch!” He laughed, feigning hurt feelings, and returned to his chair, crossed his legs, and slouched in his best rocker manner.
“He’s so cool!” One of the baristas giggled. “I think he’s wonderful!”
“And so does he,” I said in a cutting tone.
“You act so familiar with him,” she replied with more than a touch of jealousy.
The other barista just stared at Jareth with big doe eyes.
With a wicked grin, Jareth wiggled a brow at them and waved, knowing full well that it would practically send them into a swoon.
Ellison handed me his cup. “Here’s his hot chocolate,” he said.
“Go give it to him,” I grumbled. “That’s your job!”
“Nope!” Ellison grinned, patting his pocket. “Not with the bribe that I just got.”
I frowned at him. “I thought friends couldn’t be bought!”
“Whoever told you that?” Ellison laughed and as the front door opened, nodded towards the new customer. “I’m busy now, Sydney. Better give it to him while it’s still hot!”
I glanced at Samantha, but she was nose deep in her pastry orders. Scowling, I grabbed the hot chocolate and a packet of Equal and practically stomped my way over to Jareth.
He smiled and leaning back, propped his black leather boot on the coffee table.
At that, Samantha looked up from her pile of orders.
Her peripheral vision was amazing.
Peering at him from over the top of the reading glasses perched on her nose, she raised her brow a fraction of an inch.
Jareth didn’t miss her look.
“Dragon,” he hissed, immediately moving his foot as I set his cup down where it had been. “That woman has a mean temper. She’s the only human that I’ve come to fear.”
I grinned at that.
“Join me,” Jareth said, patting the chair next to him.
“You know I can’t.” I huffed in reply. “I’m working.”
I glanced quickly over my shoulder at Samantha, and satisfied that she wasn’t glaring at me yet, I leaned over and whispered, “What are we doing next? Where’s Rafael?”
His lips thinned as he smiled at someone behind me. “Well done, Brock, well done!”
I whirled to see Brock standing behind me, holding a bagel with a container of cream cheese.
“Have a seat!” Jareth invited, shoving a chair his direction with a booted foot.
As Brock sat down, I found myself suddenly ticked off.
“You’re such a troll, Brock!” The words burst out of my lips, much louder than I’d intended.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Samantha look up.
Brock appeared startled. A moment later, an expression of outrage suffused his fair face. “I beg your pardon? My blood is almost pure, tainted only by a single human, and that was over ten centuries ago! It’s inconceivable that I’d carry Troll genes in my blood!”
The conversations around us died immediately as many pairs of curious eyes looked our way.
But I found myself surprised at his words. Tainted by humans? The Fae had mingled with humans and produced hybrid children?
“Troll?” Jareth scoffed. “No one’s seen a troll for at least a century!”
“That’s not true!” a woman sitting at the next table leaned over to say. “There’s a troll under the Fremont Bridge!”
Both Jareth and Brock were clearly shocked.
I was just confused. She seemed so sincere. “A real troll?” I asked.
Laughter spread around us, several customers said ‘yes’, but the woman replied, “Of course not, dear! It’s a work of art.”
I felt foolish, but I took comfort in the fact that both Jareth and Brock appeared a bit humiliated themselves. They exchanged glances, and Brock quickly set about the business of eating his bagel. Snapping open the cream cheese, he ate it directly from the container with a plastic spoon.
It was a bit amusing. No matter how hard the Fae tried to fit in, they were always doing something wrong. I would have found it funnier if I hadn’t been so annoyed. “You’re just as bad as Jareth,” I hissed at Brock. “You messed with my schoolwork, and job, and not to mention Al!”
“And that is what you humans think are troll activities these days?” Brock was clearly dumbfounded.
“Apparently, she means a different kind of troll, Brock.” Jareth waved his hot chocolate but then growled under his breath, “Now I can believe that one has troll blood in her, don’t you think?”
I glanced back to see Samantha approaching.
“What’s the problem over here?” she asked Jareth with a sour look. “
Sydney has other duties. You’ll get no special treatment here.”
The coffee shop door opened, heralding the arrival of new customers.
I was about to return to the counter and just let Samantha deal with Jareth’s obnoxiousness, when he glanced at the door and did a double take.
Thinking Rafael had arrived, I looked myself.
A tall leggy, blonde wearing a silver cocktail dress and red spiked heels had entered. She remained at the door, scanning the interior and overtly casing the place.
Frowning a little, Samantha went forward and asked, “Can I help you?”
The leggy blonde didn’t reply but touched her wrist.
I immediately recognized the golden bracelet of the Fae.
I sucked in a deep breath. Was she after us? Did she know we’d gone to the Hall of Mirrors?
I inched a little closer to Jareth.
The door opened again.
Every head in the coffee shop turned this time as over a dozen elegant men and women filed into the shop, every one of them a tall shapely form possessing a movie-star beauty, and every one of them looking like they’d stepped straight off the catwalk of some bizarre Paris fashion show.
Half of them even walked in that strange ”swivel hip” sort of way.
The entire coffee shop fell silent, watching in open curiosity as the dozen men and women formed two lines facing one another, as if to create an aisle between them.
The door opened yet again.
Two tall, model-thin women stepped inside.
One was a delicate, silver-blonde beauty wearing a white evening gown with a gold belt and matching clutch.
The other was a dusky, gorgeous woman in a slinky black dress with black pearls woven in her raven hair.
I knew instantly who they were, and my heart stood still.
I was standing in the presence of the Queen of the Light and the Queen of the Dark.
Chapter Fourteen – “Silence, Minion!”
The Queens surveyed the coffee shop with superior disdain, at first appearing oblivious to the open mouths gaping their way, but then the Dark Queen cast a look at a particularly tall male Fae hovering at her side.
He immediately stepped forward and addressed everyone in the coffee shop in a haughty tone, “As you were!”
To my surprise, the customers stiffly returned to their conversations and lattes.
Peering down at Jareth, Samantha asked dryly, “Friends of yours?”
Jareth’s lip curled a bit sarcastically, but his reply was sincere, “You should run far, very far from here, dragon.”
“I see,” Samantha said, raising a brow. “Relatives, then.”
His lip twitched. “You could say that.”
As the Queens moved through the coffee shop with poise and grace I nervously scanned their entourage. All of those impressively tall Fae guards accompanying them had to be Protectors. Had they come to exact revenge?
My eyes caught on a familiar face. I’d seen that white-blonde hair and those icy blue eyes before.
It was Raven.
She’d trimmed her long locks into a short, sassy haircut, and she was wearing a black leather bodysuit straight out of a sci-fi movie. Tapping her inch-long red nails on a nearby tabletop, she lifted her chin and skewered me with a chilling look.
She was elegant, sophisticated, and totally in Rafael’s class, and I suddenly felt like the proverbial country bumpkin—and a jealous bumpkin at that.
I was the foolish school girl daydreaming about a prince that really belonged to her.
Flustered, I retreated to the counter, my scattered thoughts racing wildly in all directions.
What was Raven doing here?
And for that matter, why were the Queens here?
Were they going to kill us?
And where was Rafael?
From the corner of my eye, I saw Raven peruse the coffee mugs for sale. But she seemed to have eyes on the back of her head. She immediately turned and sent me an insipid smile.
I didn’t need an active sense of Light to see the hostility radiating beneath it.
Ellison hovered behind the counter, taking the order of a lean man wearing a blue business suit. But it was clear that they were both distracted. The man kept repeating the same thing while Ellison scribbled the order on the same paper cup, making a big black mess with the marker.
I couldn’t blame them.
With over a dozen, strikingly attractive Fae strolling through the coffee shop in outrageously expensive clothes, it was impossible not to stare at them.
Slipping behind the counter, I began organizing cups and fumbling with plastic lids. I couldn’t help but watch the Fae myself, but it was more in the interests of self-preservation as I wondered how to warn Rafael.
Looking to Jareth for guidance accomplished nothing. He was still sprawled in his brown, velvet chair with a sarcastic smirk on his face that could have meant anything.
Finally, the Queens paused at a table near the counter, standing there until the guards formed a protective circle and pulled out the chairs for them to sit down. And after a great fuss of smoothing dresses and adjusting hair, they sat.
But then, as one, they turned and focused their entire attention directly on me.
I froze.
Raising her hand, the Dark Queen snapped her fingers and ordered loudly, “Attend us at once, serving girl!”
Samantha’s jaw dropped open.
I didn’t move. I actually couldn’t. I was petrified. How could I? I didn’t stand a chance against them.
Cocking a brow, Jareth rose to his feet and still grinning widely, stalked to the Queens’ table, obnoxiously shoving a few of the guards out of his way. Placing his palms on the back of an empty chair, he leaned forward and murmured something in clearly amused tones.
The Queens drew back in surprise.
Then Jareth shrugged and still smirking, sauntered to the counter to slouch comfortably against the glass pastry case.
I scarcely had time to send him a curious look before the Queens stood simultaneously, and with a synchronized wave of their hands, approached the coffee bar, moving in unison the entire way.
It was downright creepy.
I barely resisted the urge to run.
For a moment, I thought Ellison would bolt, but he bravely stood his ground, and glancing down, he noticed for the first time that he’d been repeatedly scribbling on the same cup.
Smiling weakly at the man in the blue business suit, he said, “We’ll get that last drink right up for you, Mr. Cohen, but your hazelnut latte looks ready!”
His voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silent coffee shop, and he winced apologetically as he handed the man his coffee.
Mr. Cohen jerked a little, clearly startled, and accepting the drink, stepped back just as the Queens stepped forward.
It was one of those near misses.
He managed to twist his coffee up and away, barely preventing it from splashing all over their designer clothes just as the Light Queen nearly collided with him.
“That was close!” he said with a nervous laugh.
He moved to the left, and she moved to the right. He paused a moment before moving to the right as she moved to the left.
With a jovial laugh, he asked, “Shall we dance, beautiful?”
The Fae guards audibly drew their breath as the Light Queen bestowed a look of utter disdain upon the man.
“Silence, minion!” she commanded imperiously. “Get out of my sight!”
Ellison choked.
Mr. Cohen’s brows rose to his hairline.
Smothering a grin, Jareth looped his arm around the man’s shoulders and drew him aside, whispering in his ear.
Everyone in the coffee shop waited, straining forward to eavesdrop.
The man’s features relaxed and a startled expression crossed his face. “I see! I wish I could stay and watch more, but the wife’s waiting!” He clasped Jareth on the shoulder. “It’s an honor to meet you, young man. I
’ll look forward to it on the big screen!”
Flashing a wide smile at the Queens, he headed for the door, forgetting entirely about his second latte.
We all looked at Jareth expectantly.
But true to his insufferable nature, he merely watched us with a smirk.
“If it’s not a media circus, then it’s something else,” Samantha said tartly. Sending Jareth a withering look, she turned her full attention on the Queens, and with an impressively calm reserve—as if she saw such divas every day—gave them her best wintery smile. “And how may I help you ladies this evening?”
Moving with an uncanny coordination, they angled their heads and raised their left hands, looking very much like twin puppets on strings.
“Provide sustenance, innkeeper,” they said in unison, throwing two stacks of money onto the counter at the same time.
Jareth gave a low, cynical chuckle and nodded at the Queens. “You’d love Samantha’s hot chocolate, no doubt. It’s the only thing I drink. Take a seat, and she’ll get it right over to you.”
A frown creased Samantha’s forehead, but adopting a professionally polite smile, she nodded in agreement with Jareth.
“Give wings to your feet,” the Light Queen ordered.
“And the girl must deliver it.” The Dark Queen pointed directly at me before ignoring us to return to their table.
“Alright,” Samantha said in a brittle voice and clapped her hands. “Hot chocolates and pastries for our guests, and Ellison, turn up the music.”
Almost immediately, the coffee shop broke out into a hubbub of voices, and everyone began to move as if suddenly released from some kind of spell.
Ellison headed for the radio as the baristas bustled about the coffee bar, and I snagged a plate for pastries.
One of the baristas began pouring milk into the stainless steel brewing pitchers, as the other wiped the espresso machine’s frothing wand clean.
“Hot chocolate coming up,” she said, releasing a loud burst of steam through the nozzle.
The hiss snaked sharply through the coffee shop.
Instantly, every Fae guard sprang to their feet to land in a protective stance. Moving as a unit, they drew out their trions, and as one, trained them on the barista.