Singing Fire

by T. L. Martin

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t think so, but let me get Quinn for you. Just a sec.” She ambled over to a small office on my left, giving it a soft tap before poking her head inside.

  I cringed inwardly at my awkward start and took a small step back. The library was calling my name, and I might be able to sneak away. Before I could come to a decision, the cashier returned with another young woman at her side.

  “Quinn Raiden.” The woman extended a smooth hand with long nails painted the same deep shade of red as her lips.

  I took her hand, aiming for a steady and self-assured shake. “Charlie.”

  Tucking a lock of raven black hair behind her ear and revealing a row of eccentric earrings, Quinn stole a glance over my shoulder in the same manner the cashier had.

  “So, Pixie tells me you’re interested in a position with us?”

  “If you’re hiring.”

  Pixie had already returned to the register to help another customer, but she caught my gaze and offered a reassuring smile.

  “Are you here with someone?” Quinn asked.

  I really needed to do my research before stepping into another cafe. “Nope. Just me.”

  Quinn gestured to an unoccupied round table beside me. “Take a seat.”

  I did as instructed and shrugged my purse off of my shoulder, immediately relieved to be rid of it.

  “So. How did you hear about us?” Though she had not yet cracked a smile, there was a sincere twinkle in her hazel eyes.

  “I live close by. Near Face Rock.”

  Saying nothing for a few moments, she studied me carefully. I chewed the inside of my lip, waiting gracelessly for the next question.

  “Do you have any previous experience in a place like this?” she finally asked.

  “A cafe?” I wrapped my arms over my chest, feeling a sudden shiver come over me as the door swung open. “This would be my first job, actually.”

  “You’re still in school, I’m assuming?”

  “I graduated last month.”

  “From Bandon High?”

  “Mostly homeschooled, actually,” I replied, fidgeting with the hem of my blouse.

  “You’re eighteen?”

  “Seventeen. How old are you?” I grimaced at the abrasiveness of my own question as soon as it slipped out.

  Quinn raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Twenty-one. So, what do you think you could offer us here? What are your...strengths or whatever?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea.”

  Quinn silently waited for me to continue.

  “I don’t have work experience... or even people experience, really. But I need a job. And I’m open to learning anything you need.”

  Lifting her brow once more, Quinn murmured, “You sure about that?”

  Beginning to doubt my own certainty, I nodded.

  She turned her head over her left shoulder. “Hey, Pix. Can you grab an application? Bottom left drawer.”

  Pixie beamed at me and headed toward the office just as the front door sounded with another soft jingle. Quinn looked up at the young man who entered and, for the first time, showcased a dimpled smile.

  “Hey,” she said as he approached our table.

  The boy’s appearance screamed surfer: thick blond hair, light eyes, and a glow on his naturally tanned skin, highlighting his athletic build.

  “Hey.” The corner of his mouth curved upward in an endearing smile, and he tossed a ring full of keys to Quinn.

  She caught the keys in one swift motion and glanced at me with a small smirk.

  “Took him long enough. Charlie, this is Matthew Shepard. Matt, Charlie.”

  His grip was warm and firm when he shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Matt works the closing shift. He’s mostly a pain. But the customers seem to like him, so we deal.”

  Matt lowered his voice and peered confidently at me. “That’s a compliment, coming from her.”

  Pixie returned and set a double-sided sheet of paper on the table.

  “Hey, Matty,” she said. “Grab your hat and get over here. The dishes aren’t gonna wash themselves.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked back at me with an easy smile. “See you around, Charlie.”

  I smiled back politely, and he followed after Pixie as instructed.

  Quinn returned her attention to me, nudging the application forward, and I noticed a glimmering silver band on her left ring finger. Any trace of a smile had disappeared as she shifted back into professional mode.

  “So, I’m not the official decision maker on this.” She sighed. “But leave your information here and fill out the application when you get home. You can bring it back at twelve sharp tomorrow, when Priscilla gets in. She’s the one you’ll want to impress.”

  I jotted down my contact information and retrieved the form, scanning the shop once more. The two women in the corner shot another glance in my direction before quickly turning away, and the gentleman in line did nothing to hide his blatant staring. Sheepishly, I smoothed out my hair and cleared my throat.

  “So is this some sort of private cafe?” I asked quietly. “Like, do you need to be a member or something?”

  Maybe I was just being paranoid. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Quinn’s eyes gleamed with apparent amusement at the question. “Something like that.” She scooted her chair back and handed me a vibrant green business card. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  After returning a goodbye wave to Pixie and Matt, I headed past the watchful eyes and exited the shop, still feeling their disconcerting gazes on my back.

  Who was I kidding, entertaining the idea of working here? Drawing attention to myself was the last thing I needed, and anyone who knew me could understand why. Unless the shop had an office position available, something to keep me out of the public eye, this place wasn’t going to work.

  I waited until I was two blocks down to retrieve the application from my purse. My aunt would kill me if she could see what I was doing, but I tossed the form into the trash can before I could change my mind.

  The library was my next stop. Mrs. James was out today, but I knew where she kept the applications. I filled one out on the spot and left it on her desk. I made it in and out of the museum and bookstore fairly quickly afterwards, without much luck from either of them. I would have to wait for callbacks.

  The twenty-minute walk home felt shorter than usual. Climbing up the stairs, I felt the exhaustion seeping in from my run and job hunting, and I crashed exhaustedly onto my bed, listening to the whistling ocean breeze; it caressed my body from head to toe, the hypnotic sounds calming my mind.

  The draft from the wind hit my skin, and when it clicked into place, my eyes flew open, uncertainty running through me.

  Suddenly springing up, I eyeballed the window across from me. Sure enough, it was propped almost completely open. I must have missed that in my earlier inspection. Every muscle in my body tightened. I slunk toward the window and pulled it firmly shut, making sure to lock it this time.

  I swallowed hard.

  With my back against the wall, I peered discreetly out the window. A blanket of leaves from the nearby tree obstructed parts of my view of the ground, but I didn’t notice anything unusual.

  Not a thing seemed to be missing from the house. Why break in? Furthermore, why choose my window to do so? A full story above the ground. I supposed someone could climb the tree to get in here, but why go through the trouble? Especially in broad daylight and when we didn’t own anything of particular value. All of our electronics were embarrassingly outdated, and my old jewelry box was barren.

  With my chest closing up and the anxiety rising once more, I proceeded to collect the pile of clothes from the floor. Anything to stay occupied.

  I should call Stacy. She would want me to. Then again, what good would it do to worry her? There was no way she would be able to fly back home before her scheduled time tomorrow, even if s
he wanted to. Whoever broke in was clearly gone. And they didn’t actually take anything. I wasn’t in any immediate danger from what I could tell. Resolving to wait and tell Stacy upon seeing her in person, I draped the last item over a hanger and placed it in my closet.

  That was when it struck me.

  The tattered, blue shoebox I kept stored away on the top shelf of my closet: it was tilted slightly and hanging roughly half an inch over the edge. I wouldn’t usually notice such a minuscule detail, except that I had made a point to keep that particular box stowed far against the back end of the wall, out of sight and out of mind. I inhaled sharply, reaching up on my tiptoes to retrieve the box.

  I gently carried it over to the bed with me, sitting cross-legged and clutching the box tightly in my arms. My hands were shaking, but I steadied them enough to peel the lid off. I gazed with caution at its meager contents: a single pearl earring, a silver pen with the words Always and Forever engraved, a frayed photograph of my mother’s young face sweetly kissing my father’s smiling cheek, and...wait, where was the necklace? I lifted the box and checked beneath it, hoping against hope that it had somehow managed to slip out. But there was nothing. Leaving the bed, I turned on the closet light and searched frantically on the floor. It had to be here.

  Who would go out of their way to steal such a necklace? It was a simple silver chain with an ivory stone, not worth a thing to anyone but me and Stacy.

  Finding no trace of it, I took another deep breath and sunk heavily onto the floor. Either my panic attacks were taking themselves to a whole new level—adding delirious hallucinations to their symptoms—or someone had actually broken into our house just to steal my parents’ old necklace. Neither option did much to ease my mind.

  The buzzing of my phone made me jump for the second time that day, alerting me of the time. Ray would be expecting me any minute. Groaning, I wobbled feebly into a standing position. I was apprehensive about leaving just yet, but Ray would worry worse than Stacy.

  After securing all the windows, I made sure to bolt both locks before leaving the house this time.

  I gave a gentle knock on Ray’s door, occasionally shifting my eyes toward my own while I waited.

  Ray opened the door with the usual grim expression upon his face, which softened immediately at the sight of me. He was wearing Adidas training pants, black with three white stripes going down the left leg, and a grey Nike running shirt paired with Nike shoes. His right hand rested on a wooden cane. He was humoring me. I smiled slightly, grateful for the pleasant distraction.

  “All right,” he said, no trace of humor in his voice, “I’m ready for my workout.”

  “I’ll try to keep up.”

  Intertwining my right arm with his left, I led him steadily down his front steps and onto the road. We strolled toward our usual destination along the shore line, and my thoughts unwittingly strayed back to my house. I could hardly believe it was gone, my mother’s beloved necklace. Even an amateur could see that a plain rock on a rusty chain would not be worth a cent. The idea of some deviant’s fingers touching such a sacred piece of my parents’ memory made my heart all but beat out of my chest.

  “Are you all right?” Ray asked, pulling me back to the barking sea lions and enamoring dunes surrounding us.

  “Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.” I mustered up a slight smile, guilt washing over me for my lack of attention toward him. I cleared my throat and my mind. I could set the disturbing thoughts aside for five minutes, for my friend.

  “Good, good,” he replied. “I don’t believe you, but it’s good to have you back.”

  “Really, I’m fine,” I insisted. “It’s a beautiful day, and I’m in the arms of a wonderful, handsome man.”

  He snickered at the compliment. “Well, that’s true. How did your job search go?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I answered, remembering the tea shop. “Have you ever been to Your Tea Stop? You have to be a member or something to get in.”

  He shook his head. “These days, the only time I venture out of my cave is on our little walks. And I sure as heck am not a member of anything, unless you count AARP,” he grumbled. “Where’s it at?”

  “Right in Old Town, on 2nd Street.”

  “Huh,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes as if shuffling his memory. “Must be new. So, you liked the place?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered vaguely.

  Ray narrowed his eyes questioningly. “You don’t know,” he repeated.

  “I mean, yeah. I think I did. A little unconventional, I guess. But that’s what I liked.”

  “Huh,” he grunted once more. It was clear that he still felt on edge about me leaving the shelter of my home.

  “It doesn’t matter, anyway. If they are hiring, it’s probably for customer service. Not really my thing, considering...you know. Anyway, I didn’t apply there.”

  He brightened instantly, giving my hip a nudge with his elbow. “There you go. What’s the rush, right?”

  “Well,” I slowly clarified, “I didn’t apply there, but I should be hearing back from a couple of other places soon.”

  “Well, gosh darn it, Charlotte. You need to choose your words better.”

  I chuckled softly, and he smiled back.

  “It’ll be fine, Ray,” I assured him. “I just need something a little more...quiet. I’m kinda hoping Mrs. James will hire me.”

  Ray paused and met my gaze with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Cheryl James would be a fool not to hire you, Charlotte.”

  I squeezed his arm appreciatively as we swung around and began to head back to the house.

  “How are you doing, Ray?” I asked, peering over at him.

  “Just taking it one day at a time, Charlotte. One day at a time,” he replied, his answer as nebulous as ever.

  I looked down at his gold wedding band, always shining and never absent. I had known him since I was a little girl, and, aside from his caregiver Diana, I had never seen him have any visitors. His wife had passed away before I’d met him, as had their only child. My heart ached for him.

  A slow, smooth chill began to crawl up my spine, as it so often had over these past few months. Pulling my sweater around me, I scanned the coast. There were a few kids hanging out in an alcove and some older folks cruising by, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

  Still, I couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that I was being watched.

  We crossed the street, and I led Ray back into his house. After thanking him for the walk and walking back across the lawn home, I quickly unbolted both locks and fumbled to close the door behind me, leaning my back against it and closing my eyes. The chill was finally beginning to disappear.

  What in the world is happening to me? Was I going crazy? Unless there was some other explanation for the opened window or missing necklace, it wasn’t entirely in my head. My heart quickened with each passing second, question after question muddling up my mind.

  Slipping on my kickboxing gloves, I reverted back to my calming therapy. I faced the heavy bag with fresh determination. Elbows tucked, eyes forward on the target, and my weight centered.

  I began as usual with basic hooks. Right, left, right, right, left, working my way into sets of right jab, right hook, right cross, back leg roundhouse kick, then switching to left jab, left hook, left cross, and another back leg roundhouse kick.

  By the fifth set, a light sweat coated my skin, and I challenged myself further by speeding up my moves to cut the time in half. Putting my weight on my toes, I allowed for about two arms in length of spacing for the next punch and jab before ending off with a few routine high kicks, transitioning to mid and low kicks and, finally, an off-step quarter turn kick.

  Both my body and mind reveled in the adrenaline rush as I removed the gloves, collapsing satisfactorily into the dining room chair.

  Tomorrow would be another nerve-racking day, but I was looking forward to getting it over with and being able to tell my aunt I got a job. Hopefully. In the meantime, I jus
t had to make sure no amateur intruders broke in.

  Wonderful.

  ***

  Quinn’s shoulders gradually relaxed as she watched Charlie exit the shop. Pixie glanced at her from behind the counter, wearing an equally perplexed expression on her face. She skirted around Matt, who was helping a customer pay for their tea, and sat herself across from Quinn.

  “Weird, right?” Pixie whispered, her brown eyes wide. “I mean, I didn’t pick up on anything at all.”

  “Yeah. Me, neither,” Quinn answered, mindlessly toying with her promise ring. “Are you absolutely sure no one came in with her? Or at least opened the door before she came inside?”

  She nodded her head adamantly. “I’m sure, Quinn. She was alone. Should we call Priscilla?”

  Quinn shook her head. Priscilla would certainly want to know about this, but now wasn’t the time. “We shouldn’t disturb her. It can wait until tonight when I take over her shift.”

  Standing up, Quinn made her way behind the counter and started working on the dishes. In all the years she had lived with Priscilla, she had never heard of a human spotting the shop on their own. It was not possible. No, there had to be someone who led the girl inside. There was simply no other explanation.

  “So,” Matt said, interrupting Quinn’s thoughts as he slid beside her. “Who’s the new girl, really? Not a vamp, that’s for sure. I mean, she’s definitely cute enough—” He paused as she rolled her eyes dramatically. “What?” he asked innocently, with one of his playful grins.

  “Anyway, she doesn’t have that cold, death-stare of a vampire. Maybe a demon?” he pondered aloud, staring distantly at the porcelain plate he was scrubbing. “Nah. Way too calm. Must be a witch.”

  He flashed a cocky grin in Quinn’s direction. “I’m getting pretty good at this, right? For a human, I mean.”

  She smiled absentmindedly at him, feeling completely at a loss. Vampire and demon were out, and she would have felt it instantly if the girl was a witch. The whole innocent act was a smooth play, and Charlie wore it well. Not to mention, those sad eyes...very convincing. Bravo, Charlie. Bravo.

  One way or another, Quinn was newly determined to do whatever it took to find out who—or what—she was. And to do that...she would need to keep her close.