Caffeinated Magic: Supernatural Barista Academy

by Rylee Sanibel

  It was at that point that an old, gray-bearded Master rose ponderously to his feet and said, without preamble, “Miss Hightide, I say this with all respect, but did we not all see what the girl did at the gate to the Hopper? She reached through the broadcasting cup and pulled those people through the portal to safety. While the deed itself was a noble one, the act should not have been possible at all. There is ancient magic that protects this facility. It should not have been able to be manipulated so easily – as if it wasn’t even there! – by a novice. To me, it speaks of something darker and more sinister about this Miss Hall. Something dormant in her, perhaps, but there nonetheless. If you want my opinion, we should hand the girl over to the demons. It is a sacrifice that, I feel, must be made if we are to keep the rest of Ravencharm safe – something that is, essentially, the reason that this institution exists at all.”

  There was some murmuring and muttering around the table, which sounded a little too compliant for Abby’s comfort. Then Miss Hightide got to her feet once more and the chattering quieted.

  “Thank you for your candid words, Master Tulsi,” Miss Hightide said. She paused, as if marshaling her words and then said, “The safety of Ravencharm is our paramount concern, you say. I agree. It is for the safety of Ravencharm that I would implore this council to make the correct decision in allowing Abby Hall to remain within our ranks.”

  The council broke into more incoherent mutters, which, as Abby sat clutching Auran’s arm with her sweaty hand, she found all the more frustrating.

  Can’t these pricks understand that I saved those fucking people? Most of them are acting the same way that they might if I’d set a building on fire and then rescued the people trapped inside!

  Miss Hightide allowed the grumbling and whispering to run on for a few moments before she cleared her throat. “I understand your consternation,” she said, looking around at the men and women who were, Abby assumed, the most highly regarded Masters in the S.B.A. “I understand that many of you find Abby Hall’s unbending, intractable personality sometimes a little hard to deal with.”

  Abby noticed that Master Tamper, her old Combat Master, gave a small smile at these words.

  “Yes,” continued Miss Hightide, “Miss Hall can be as stubborn as a mule at times and short-tempered. She breaks rules, certainly, but what cannot be denied is that she saved the lives of thirteen people and brought back the bodies of four more. My dear council members, that is a fact, and one that can’t be denied.”

  There was a bit of sober nodding from around the table at this point, and Abby saw a tall, severe-looking woman with faintly purple skin beam and slap the desk in acquiescence of this statement.

  “The young witch, Radella, also performed admirably, and I know that many of you are eager to have her inducted as a Guardian as soon as she is qualified and passed by the examination committee. However, she would not be here were it not for Abby Hall rescuing her and pulling her from the café in the nick of time.”

  In the room next door, Radella jerked back from the magical aperture. Despite the stories surrounding the attack and the subsequent rescue, Radella hadn’t truly believed that Abby had pulled her from the fight. Being confronted with the information that her least favorite person in the entire Academy had saved her life was a hard thing for the green-skinned supernatural to take in.

  “It is true,” continued Miss Hightide, “that Abby struggles to control and direct her powers, but I believe that I’m not alone in expressing the opinion that, were she taught to harness them, she could become one of the most powerful Guardians that this institution has ever produced.”

  “These are fine words, Miss Hightide,” said old Master Tulsi, “but what proof have we that they hold any credibility, hmm?”

  Miss Hightide sighed. “As for that, I will tell you.” She looked gravely around the table, seeming to take in every member of the council individually, before she continued, “Miss Hall has already destroyed a red-eye demon. She was attacked by one on the night before she was conveyed to the Academy, and she blasted it through the side of a building and utterly destroyed it. I think she is unaware that she killed it, only that she got rid of it in some way.”

  There was an uproar around the table. Voices erupted from all quarters until Miss Hightide called for order. When the bedlam had ceased, Master Tulsi said in a querulous voice, “Impossible.”

  “I assure you it is not. Former Guardian Drake made sure of it.”

  “But – but – but,” stuttered the old man, clutching at his beard as if to stop his head from floating off in his shock. “But it’s impossible.”

  “As impossible as someone being able to reach through our portal and pluck out multiple individuals?” Master Tamper said quietly.

  While this interaction took place, Abby sat in stunned – and necessary – silence, as the realization that she had killed something stole over her. It was a very odd and uncomfortable concept, knowing that whoever she had been before was gone now. Yes, the thing had been trying to murder her, but to know now that she had snuffed out its life… It was a thought that she knew would trouble her for a long time.

  “There is a simple explanation to this,” Miss Hightide said into the thoughtful silence that Master Tamper’s words had left in their wake.

  Abby felt a sudden current of anticipation pass through her, from the soles of her feet to the tips of her hair. She shuddered and Auran elbowed her.

  “You see, ladies and gentlemen,” Miss Hightide said, “Abby Hall is the daughter of the demon Vassago.”

  The silence that met this declaration was absolute and stretched like a sheet of toffee until finally, it gave way.

  But it wasn’t any of the council members that broke the silence. It was Abby.

  She had let go of Auran’s arm and gotten to her feet before she even realized it, taking a few shaking steps toward the head of the meeting table, toward Miss Hightide.

  “You knew who my father was?” she asked – and realized that she was yelling, though she couldn’t have stopped even if she’d wanted to. “You goddamn knew who my father was this whole time? And you said nothing? What’s wrong with you?”

  She heard a few of the Masters grumbling to each other. Master Tulsi said, “Ah, a fine example of the young woman’s total and absolute disregard for the rules, regulations and common courtesies that govern the Academy.”

  Abby heard him but disregarded the trivial snipe as completely irrelevant raven shit.

  “And you’re trying to tell me – you expect me to believe that my father was a demon?”

  Miss Hightide had gotten to her feet. “Abby, I wanted to –”

  “Tell me? What were you waiting for? Christmas?”

  There was some indignant twittering from a few of the Masters at this disrespectful remark.

  Miss Hightide stood, seemingly dumbfounded at this outburst – or perhaps she was just trying to get her thoughts and words into some semblance of order. However, she did not get the chance.

  Not knowing what else to do or say, Abby ran to the door, wrenched it open and flew like a swallow down the corridor. She ran and ran and ran, down twisting passages and long hallways, flashing past students and Masters alike. She rounded a corner and crashed straight into an unyielding figure.

  That, someone, turned out to be Frederick, the masseur.

  “Whoa, Abby!” he cried, catching her before she hit the ground.

  He wrapped her in his strong arms to steady her and, before she knew it, Abby was crying into Frederick’s chest.

  “Uh, let’s get you out of this very public corridor, okay?” the unsuspecting man said.

  He guided her into a small room that looked like a study area. It had a few couches and bookshelves and a handful of desks with their cozy lamps and, mercifully, it was unoccupied. Frederick sat Abby down on a sofa and did what any male does in this situation, if he knows what’s good for him – he sat and awkwardly patted her back, making ambiguous comforting noises until the
hiccupping and sniffing subsided.

  Abby cried, more out of frustrated anger than any sense of sadness. She cried because she was so pissed off with Miss Hightide for not telling her the truth.

  What’s with people doing that? she thought. When will they learn that there is no opportune moment for that sort of shit – just spill the beans!

  She found herself glad that she’d run into Frederick. Of all the people she knew in the Academy at that time, he was the one that she could most easily vent to.

  She was just about to open her mouth and tell him what she thought of Miss Delphine Hightide and the rest of the jackasses in the council meeting when the door to the study room opened and two Guardians stepped in. They wore matching uniforms and similar looks of carefully crafted, authoritarian blankness.

  Abby wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and said, none too politely, “Jeez, you guys look cheerful.”

  “Miss Hall, you’re to come with us. Now.”

  Chapter 10

  Abby was escorted to a room that was not labelled as a prison cell; however, the bare room with its unyielding single mattress, toilet in an alcove and no windows was not a suite.

  “How long am I going to be in here?” she demanded.

  Neither of the Guardians spoke and merely strode from the room without a backward glance. There was the sound of a bolt being pushed home and then silence.

  “What the hell is going on?” Abby roared at the door, her voice reverberating back at her in the confines of the empty room. “Why am I being punished for saving a bunch of people?”

  But the only replies she received were the ringing echoes of her frustrated voice.

  Abby lay down on the pathetic excuse for a mattress and stared up at the white-washed ceiling. She regretted now, as her stomach gurgled reproachfully, that she had not swallowed even a mouthful of breakfast that morning.

  Luckily, she did not have long to wait before a welcome diversion arrived. The cell door opened, and Miss Delphine Hightide swept into the room, as graceful and unruffled as she had been stressed and outwardly perturbed only a short time before.

  “Well,” Abby said in a cold voice, “you’ve got a set of balls on you, having me locked in here and then turning up for a chat. What do you want?”

  Miss Hightide didn’t reply and the arrow of Abby's inner barometer starting to swing toward ‘STORM.’ She took a breath and said, “Now isn’t the time to be mysterious, Miss Hightide. That might fly in stories for kids, but it’s just plain rude between two adults trying to talk.”

  Abby sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands clutching at the mattress as if it was a stress-ball. “Look,” she said, “why don’t we just start with something straightforward? Tell me why the hell you didn’t think I’d want to know about my father being a demon? I’m all ears.”

  Miss Hightide smoothed her dress and said, “The reason for withholding that information is simple, Abby. I felt that waiting for the right time, waiting for when you were ready – when your abilities had been honed to a slightly sharper edge – would be safer.”

  “Safer? Safer how?”

  “Safer because you would have more understanding as to how the magic works. You’d have more appreciation of the limits that we have imposed upon ourselves.”

  “Right. Well, I appreciate that, but the thing is that it’s my past you’re deciding to divulge or not. It’s information that is relevant to me. It’s not a decision for you to make. You should’ve just goddamn told me!”

  Miss Hightide looked levelly at her. “Perhaps you are right,” she said, “but things are complicated when the father in question also happens to be the nemesis of this institution.”

  “That’s where you and I differ, Miss Hightide,” Abby said. “Because to me, things aren’t complicated. To me, it’s still just a case of finding out who my father is.”

  Miss Hightide sighed again, stoking the fire of Abby’s anger.

  “Now that we’re enjoying this cozy face-to-face,” Abby said, “is there anything else you’ve hidden? What else have you lied about – or should I say, neglected to share with me yet? What about Drake? Can you tell me why he was banished out of the blue like that? Why he didn’t put up a fight?”

  Miss Hightide cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve certainly changed your tune when it comes to the subject of former Guardian Drake, Miss Hall,” she said.

  Abby blushed, hating herself for doing so.

  Miss Hightide was decent enough not to smile. Instead, she simply said, “That, Abby, is something that I am not going to tell you and, before you get up another head of steam, let me remind you that this has nothing to do with our present discussion. What has happened to Drake and where he has gone is between this Academy and him. That’s all there is to it. You know about your father now, and what that means to you I will let you ponder on.”

  Abby managed to bite back the retort that she wanted to fling at her.

  “And how long will that be, Miss Hightide?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How long will I have to ponder this news? How long am I going to be kept in this ‘waiting room'? A day, a week, a year? Or are those council members going to ship me off to the demons so that I can enjoy a reunion with my long lost father?”

  Miss Hightide looked away guiltily for a second and then turned back to Abby. Her blue eyes were gleaming coldly and with such power that Abby leaned back without thinking.

  “Unfortunately, I cannot say. A vote was called by Master Tulsi before I could steer the conversation into safer waters. He asked the council whether we should put you behind bars for the time being – as a precaution. To my surprise, the motion passed.”

  “You didn’t vote to lock me up?”

  Miss Hightide gave her a sharp look. “Of course I didn’t,” she said. “For all your pig-headedness, you’re still just a young woman who finds herself in extraordinary circumstances beyond her control. Being a victim of circumstance – no matter how bizarre those circumstances might be – shouldn’t be considered a crime.”

  Miss Hightide snorted indignantly, but whether it was at Abby’s question or the whole situation, Abby could not tell. The woman made her way back to the door but then hesitated.

  “I’m on your side, Abby,” she said. “I know you’re skeptical of that, but I only want to ensure that you’re protected and prepared for what could be waiting for you.”

  She knocked for the guards and said, “I’ll try and get you out of here as quickly as I can.”

  Before Abby could answer, the door had opened and Miss Hightide was gone.

  ***

  Abby managed to snooze the rest of the morning away. Lunch was delivered shortly after the noon bell, and she chewed over her thoughts as she chewed on the baked potato, greens, and shadow truffles.

  After lunch, she lay on her bed, wondering what was going to happen next and theorizing, like the good chemistry major that she was, the potential outcomes were she to be released and remain in the Academy or bagged up and shipped off to the demon hordes.

  She fell into a listless doze, noticing vaguely that the lights gradually dimmed to mirror the setting of the sun upon the surface. She stirred when dinner arrived and wolfed down the huge bowl of delicious smoked tiger-prawn pasta, which was accompanied by a little dish of chocolate and espresso-flavored bonbons. Once the food had run out, she flopped back on the mattress again and continued her meditations, wishing fervently that she had a book to pass the time.

  Abby awoke with a start to total blackness. Disoriented and wondering why she wasn’t in her room, she realized that a dull thudding noise had awakened her.

  There it was again; a dull thump which was reminiscent of someone dropping an armload of laundry onto the floor.

  Abby rubbed her eyes and swung her legs out of bed, hearing the sound of the bolt being drawn. It was scraping back clandestinely, making as little noise as possible.

  Abby ducked into the toilet alcove and waited. Ther
e was a distinctive feeling of fresh air as the door swung noiselessly open.

  Abby held her breath, trying to make out the slightest sound that might indicate who had decided to pay her a late-night visit.

  Then a lantern appeared in the doorway, and a voice hissed, “Hey, Hall, where are you?”

  Abby imagined who might be visiting her. She wished for the heroic reappearance of Drake, but supposed it was probably Miss Hightide, or even Frederick, Auran, or Master Spiridon. Or perhaps a demon assassin.

  The one person she hadn’t imagined was Radella.

  “What in the world are you doing here?” Abby whispered, coming out from behind the little alcove.

  “Oh, that’s a nice way to greet your deliverer,” Radella said acidly.

  “What did you just call yourself?”

  “Your deliverer,” Radella repeated archly. “Your liberator, savior – whatever else you might want to call me.”

  Abby could think of many names she’d like to call Radella, but the fact that the green-skinned witch was standing in her cell overrode every other concern.

  “ Radella,” she finally said, “I’m not trying to be funny, but what are you doing here?”

  Radella’s eyes shimmered in the dim light of the lantern she held. “I’m repaying a debt.”

  “A debt? A debt to who? Is this a joke?”

  “Getting up in the middle of the night to bust your sorry ass out of prison? Not much of a joke. I didn’t even have time to do my hair.”

  Abby couldn’t organize her thoughts. It was just too much. Radella standing here saying that she was ‘busting her out’ seemed about as likely as Master Tulsi coming in to perform a striptease. “What about the guards outside?”

  “Oh, darling, puh-lease,” Radella said, tossing her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “I just showed those morons a little shoulder, gave them the sleepy lost girl routine and then hit them in the face with a cup of Turkish Tranquilizer brew. They’ll be out for hours.”