Welcome to Fae Cafe (High Court of the Coffee Bean Book 1)

There was a time long ago when the city of Toronto was called York. In the days of York, and since, there were whispers amongst locals claiming to have spotted a giant sea serpent-like creature weaving below the water in Lake Ontario. In one of these sightings, witnesses were sure they spotted a turquoise serpent soaking up the sun on a beach near Fort York before slithering into the water’s depths. The witnesses claimed the monster was over forty-five feet in length. Though accounts were many, the existence of York’s serpent was never confirmed or denied with substantial evidence.

Every city has its monsters. Every town has its secrets. Every neighbourhood has its history and the unconfirmed dangers that lay sleeping below the ground.

The bookstore smelled of new books, pleasant stories, and clashing egos.

Kate tried not to fall asleep as she sat on the floor listening to the fae argue with her face leaning on her fist. The rest of the book club members gaped from their little half circle on the floor in the bookstore’s meeting room. All except for Mor—he sat off to the side, basking in the sun by the window and making ridiculous guesses to solve a crossword puzzle in the newspaper. It was like he didn’t even realize his fellow fae were fighting. Every few seconds, he reached for the latte Kate had made for him before they left her apartment that morning, and he took a sip without looking up from the paper.

“That’s not at all what it’s like!” Dranian shouted. It had been ten minutes since he jumped to his feet. He’d been that way ever since Shayne suggested one of the books Kate made them read depicted a fae’s personality adequately.

“What about Lord Swendle? The writer was practically telling his life’s story!” Shayne objected, throwing a book at Dranian. It hit Dranian in the chest and tumbled to the floor.

“How dare you?! Lord Swendle is practically a saint of the sky deities!” Dranian growled.

When the fae had first walked into the book club five days ago, the girls in the meeting room had stared, giggled, or blushed. Kate had hoped that bringing the assassins every day might give them some real human exposure, but it seemed like the Book Nerd Herd girls were no longer interested in book club at all.

The fae Prince didn’t show up once in those five days. Mor kept a close watch at the apartment window each night, Dranian stood guard down at the café door, and Shayne spent most of his evenings on the rooftop with his crossbow loaded. For the first time in ages, Kate was sleeping like a baby.

Kate released a startled sound when she dozed off and fell off balance.

Shayne glanced over at her, taking his attention off Dranian for the first time since the discussion began. “Tell him he’s wrong, Kate!” he shouted, pointing at his fellow assassin.

Kate rubbed her eyes, smearing her makeup. “Well, I don’t know Lord Swendle, so obviously I can’t comment on that.”

Mor released a snort-laugh from the side of the room. But his laughter fell away when Dranian swung a real punch and nearly landed it in Shayne’s face.

Shayne and Dranian went back at it, Dranian opening his own book to point at a paragraph. He muttered something too low for the rest of the book club to hear.

Iris—Book Nerd Herd organizer—slid wide around the fae-fight to reach Kate’s side. “Where did you meet these guys?” she asked, beaming. “They’re so invested in the story. It’s adorable. Why can’t all guys be like this?”

“Well, today’s your lucky day.” Kate lifted a hand toward Shayne and Dranian. “Take your pick. I’ll set you up on a date—”

“Human.” Mor appeared behind Kate. “We must leave before this situation escalates.”

Kate looked up just in time to see Dranian charge Shayne. He grabbed him around the middle and lifted him off the floor. Shayne whacked Dranian’s back with his book as he was carried and slammed against the wall. The wall cracked up to the ceiling while Shayne punched Dranian’s nose in retaliation, drawing blood. A second later, he kicked Dranian with his bare foot while the fae was hunched.

Blood dripped to the floor.

Fae growled.

Shayne’s muscles flexed.

Girls shrieked and scurried away.

Iris clapped.

Kate sprang up and ran over as Dranian’s hands wound around Shayne’s throat.

“Stop! Stay still!” she shouted, and both fae froze with their limbs in mid-strike. “It’s time to go.” She shot a look back to Mor who was scooping up the scattered books. He bowed in farewell to the book club girls who bit back smiles and waved.

“See you next time!” Iris shouted, but to Kate, she mouthed, “Make sure you bring that one back.” She jutted her thumb toward Shayne as Mor snatched the fae by his shirt and dragged him toward the exit.

They tumbled out of the bookstore a bloody, heated mess of alpha male pride and sore attitudes. The chilly air didn’t cool anyone down fast enough, and Dranian leaned away and eyed Shayne behind Mor’s back. Shayne unexpectedly grinned through a bloody lip, and that only seemed to anger Dranian more.

Kate’s phone alarm went off. She stopped walking to pull it from her pocket, leaving Mor to hold Shayne’s and Dranian’s collars. She gasped when she realized. “I’m late! I have to go!”

Mor looked back at her with the widest, most accusing eyes she’d seen on a fae.

“Sorry,” she said as she jogged across the parking lot.

“Wait… Human, wait!” Mor called after her. “You can’t leave me with these two! Command them not to fight at least!” His words drowned out as Kate rounded the bookstore and chased speeding cars down the road.

Minutes later, she stopped outside the Yarn & Stitch, panting and breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the lights on inside. Her fingers traced her pocket where she hid the note of questions she planned to ask. She’d spent an hour this morning at a table in the café scribbling down the things she felt were the most important to know.

She rubbed her warm neck as she trotted up the steps and opened the door. She’d just lifted her foot to go inside when a fistful of her knit sweater was grabbed from behind.

Kate was torn back out of the shop, her shoulders hitting a broad chest. She was tossed in the other direction—she barely caught her footing as the person who’d pulled her out marched past and entered the yarn store. An earthy and floral scent swept over her, and she gasped.

The fae Prince stood in the entryway of the Yarn & Stitch. He glared at the shelves of yarn, at the snack table with the steaming teapot, and at the group of knitting women on couches.

Freida stood, knocking the teapot to the floor and soaking the carpet with hot liquid. Gretchen and the others dropped their knitting, too, and soon, every fae woman faced the Prince—Cress.

“I thought I recognized that dreadful smell of wool and tea.” Cress’s words were ice-cold. He dared another step in. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding, Sisterhood. I can’t wait to inform my Queene of this treachery.”

Kate looked from the Prince to the knitting club as it dawned on her how he must have found this place. She hadn’t even felt his gaze on her back as he’d followed her. She never would have brought him here on her own. She never would have sold out the knitting club…

Her attention fell on the handle of a decorative dagger sticking out from Cress’s back pocket, and tightness bloomed in her chest. She crept in behind him, her fingers reaching toward his weapon. But Freida’s emotionless words filled the shop, and Kate halted.

“Kill him.”

Kate staggered back against the wall as Hazel leapt over the couch. The fae girl’s knitting needles were out like claws. The Prince caught her whole body and hurled her back into a shelf of yarn just as two older women slid over the floor and stabbed him in his legs.

Cress growled, yanking the dagger handle from his pocket. A long silver blade appeared from the handle, binding together out of thin air. He aimed for both women in one terrible swing, and Kate screamed, grabbing his arm, and making him miss.

Freida appeared out of nowhere and kicked Cress out the front door. He tumbled into Kate and took her down the stairs with him, landing on top of her and forcing the breath from her lungs on the sidewalk. A strange look crossed Cress’s face when his eyes settled on Kate wheezing under his weight. He rolled to his feet, bringing her up with him. He spun her around, pulled her back against his chest, and placed his blade at her throat.

The knitting club spilled from the shop with their needles raised. Freida looked unnaturally calm, frightening almost.

“Surrender,” Cress commanded them.

Hazel wiped a bead of blood from her lip as she glared at the Prince. A bone in her arm looked broken. She snapped it back into place without breaking eye contact.

Cress’s heartbeat punched Kate’s back. One of his hands was flat on her stomach, holding her in place, and the other nudged his cold sword closer to her throat.

“W… Where’s Mor?” Kate whispered, trying to steal a look at the street without letting her jaw brush his blade.

Cress released a dark chuckle. “Mor will not come for you, Human. He is well distracted with the others you left behind.”

Kate’s mind filled with Lily’s sad blue eyes. A sob slipped from her mouth. She hadn’t patched things up with Lily. She meant to—she’d thought about doing it every day—but she was so preoccupied with teaching the fae how to run the café. And maybe she’d been scared Lily wouldn’t come back even if she asked.

The pressure of Cress’s hand tightened against her stomach. “Don’t do that,” he mumbled through his teeth. It sounded like begging. “Don’t you dare cry, Human—”

“Not to worry, Kate Kole.” A savage look entered Freida’s eyes, and a strange smile crept over her mouth. “He’s come here to die. All your troubles are about to end. Just”—she inched a step toward Kate and the Prince—“hold still.”

Freida’s needle shot like a dart. Kate felt Cress’s body flinch; his sword clattered to the ground. Gretchen vanished, and a set of tiny, glowing wings the size of a walnut took her place.

The knitting club charged. Cress pushed Kate away, and Kate collided with Hazel, eating a lock of the girl’s curly hair. Gretchen zipped by like a firefly.

Kate spun and saw chaos. She expected Cress to be overrun, but terror fumbled her heartbeat as she watched him stab and snap bones with inhuman speed. He didn’t even need his sword to inflict harm, but after tossing half the club to the ground, he scooped it up with menacing intensity and swung at them. A fast, heavy wind lifted through the street, flapping the women’s hair into their eyes. A black patch spread over the road like a burning puddle from Cress’s boots, and the scent of ash filled the air. More women stumbled and fell, their boots melting right off their feet.

Kate backed toward the Yarn & Stitch store until she was against it. Rain speckled her cheeks as the sky changed its mood, and Toronto citizens halted in their tracks at the sight of the young man destroying a mob of knit-covered women in the street. People who tried to race away were chased by the remaining members of the knitting club who vanished and appeared to cut them off. The fae grabbed people’s hands, and afterward it was like the citizens forgot where they were.

Moaning knitting club members lay across the road in Cress’s wake. The few remaining women smothered the Prince; biting, clawing, and kicking. The knitting club took hit after hit, and some who were on the ground snapped their arms and legs back into place and got up again. Kate’s breath caught in her throat as she watched them persevere by a miracle.

Cress was a monster.

A turquoise-eyed monster.

She led him here.

Kate sank to a sitting position as the women stole the Prince’s sword, broke his fingers with a gruesome snap, and struck him until he stopped hurtling them. They forced him backward into the alley where Kate couldn’t see. Her feet were frozen to the ground—she couldn’t follow. She couldn’t watch what would happen next.

Gretchen reappeared in her full size. She drew out the longest needle of all and marched into the alley after the others. Her high voice sang from around the corner, “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

“Wait!” Kate heard her own scream echo into the alley. She leapt up and scrambled around the store just as Gretchen raised the needle over the Prince’s exposed throat. Gretchen hesitated, looking back at Kate with wild, questioning eyes.

From inside the Yarn & Stitch, the loud chirp of the cuckoo clock sounded. Freida wiped a smear of blood from her lips and dropped the brick in her hand. It rolled down the alley and landed in a shallow puddle of fresh rain.

Gretchen’s fist tightened around her needle. “Ah, humans,” she growled, climbing off Cress’s body where he leaned against crates of trash.

Kate expected them to go back into the Yarn & Stitch, but the knitting club dispersed without a word to each other, including the grumbling Gretchen. Some lifted their fellow knitters off the road and carried them away in silence.

Freida stayed behind. The old woman stared at the Prince for a moment as she yanked her one remaining opal earring from her lobe. “Until next week then, Kate Kole.” She glanced back at Kate and nodded toward Cress. “Be careful with him. He’s got a fairy crush on you,” was all she said as she left.

Kate’s throat was too thick to reply.

The rain turned heavy, flooding the air and the streets as Kate stood there gaping at Cress’s relaxed, punctured face. His eyes were shut, his clothes and hair absorbing the rain. He wasn’t moving.

Every second that passed, Kate meant to leave. But all she could see was Mor, Shayne, and Dranian’s faces, and how they would look at her if she told them she killed their Prince. It would be fair if Cress died this way—he’d tried to kill Kate first. He deserved to be left here with the garbage.

The alley turned into a shallow stream of rainwater. Kate’s shoes squeaked as she walked toward the fae Prince. She crouched down and flicked an old candy wrapper off his shoulder. Some liquid substance from a leaking garbage bag had stained the side of his shirt green. Blood dripped from a pattern of gashes on his face.

“Cress?” she tried.

He didn’t move a muscle.

Kate slowly reached to check his pulse. She put her fingers against his throat, searching for a sign of life. His pulse didn’t show. She scooted herself forward, pressed her fingers in deeper, and leaned forward to try and feel if he was breathing.

His hand flashed up and grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull back, but his grip tightened, trapping her fingers to the side of his neck. Cress didn’t open his eyes fully, but his lashes fluttered, and his mouth pinched just a little.

“Let me go, you monster,” Kate said.

She didn’t think he’d reply, but he whispered through cracked lips, “Stay. Please.”

Kate stopped wriggling. Cress’s neck grew warm beneath her hand. She spotted the top of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his shirt, and she carefully tugged the collar down to see the rest. A mountain with a crescent of tiny snowflakes arching over it covered his heart. It was almost pure black, but apart from that, the tattoo wasn’t that different from the picture on her own neck.

Kate waited for him to open his eyes, but his fingers slid off her wrist and his arm went limp at his side. His head tilted, his breathing slowed, and Kate was sure he’d passed out.

She stood, flexing her fingers where he’d held them. “I can’t stay. You’ll kill me if I do.”

No response came from the Prince.

Kate used her hand to shield her eyes as she turned and raced back to the café in the rain. The puddles were deep and the air was cold.

Freshly brewed espresso and hot milk were on the countertop when she came in. Mor was adding whipped cream to lattes. The fireplace crackled in the corner where Shayne and Dranian had dragged plush chairs down from Kate’s apartment to read.

“Your Prince is hurt, badly,” Kate said. Mor slowed the whipped cream spraying, and Shayne and Dranian looked up from their books. “He’s in the alley beside the Yarn & Stitch store. I can tell you how to get there.”

Dranian stood so fast, his chair toppled over.

Kate shoved aside the dozens of stolen buttons, spoons, dimes, and other shiny objects heaped on the countertops in her apartment. She laid her novel flat and tried to get through a chapter. After going over the same paragraph six times, she slapped the book shut and began to pace in the kitchenette.

“Why did I do that?” she asked herself. “Why did I help him?”

The Prince was going to get medical help from his assassins and then come back and kill her. Kate leaned against the counter and dragged her nails through her damp hair. She leaned her weight against her book to crack the spine so it would stay open on its own.

Her apartment door burst open. Mor marched in, drenched.

“Are you sure that’s where you left him, Human?” he demanded.

“We looked everywhere. He’s not there.” Shayne’s bare feet slapped over the tiles leaving watery footprints. He tossed his crossbow on the chair by the door in a damp heap.

“He’s gone?” Kate rushed around the counter. “That’s impossible. He was hardly breathing when I left!”

“Our deaths will be disgraceful and public if we let the Prince of the North die!” Mor started pacing. He stopped to yank off his jean jacket and hurtled it into the chair by the door over Shayne’s crossbow. “Why hasn’t he been in contact with any of us for the past five days?” he asked the other fae.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to reveal his plans to us again,” Shayne said. “He must be plotting something.”

“He attacked my knitting club,” Kate told them, and Shayne made a face.

“Your what?”

“It’s a long story. My knitting club saved me from him. That’s how he got hurt.”

Shayne tilted his head doubtfully. “That doesn’t make any sense. What sort of—”

“I’m not telling you any details about my knitting club. I’ve already caused them enough trouble.” Kate fled into the hall and ducked into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and let out a heavy breath, placing a hand against her chest. She’d barely peeled off her rain-soaked shirt when the door flew open, and she shrieked.

Shayne stood there, eyeing her.

“This is totally inappropriate!” Kate said.

“Tell me about your knitting club.” He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms. His pale wet hair stood on end. “It’s the only chance we have to find Cress.”

Kate folded her arms to cover her sports bra. “I won’t.”

“Do it, or I’ll let Dranian at you.” Shayne flashed a charming smile, but his eyes narrowed. “Trust me, Human, you don’t want to know what he’ll do to your hair.”

“Seriously, shut the door and don’t ever bother me again when I’m showering!”

Shayne’s jaw slid to the side. His nostrils flared, but he obeyed, clicking the door shut. A second later, he yelled through it, “Why did you concern yourself with our Prince, anyway? You ran back here to tell us about him.”

Kate sighed. “I don’t know.”

A pause followed before Shayne spoke again. “His enchanted kiss didn’t work on you, Human. You shouldn’t be concerned for someone who wants you dead.”

“Is that advice?”

Something thumped lightly on the door like Shayne was leaning against it. “Perhaps.”

“Are you telling me because I commanded you to keep me safe? Or are you actually worried about me, Assassin?” Kate wandered to the shower but waited for him to respond before turning the water knob. She looked back at the door again when Shayne didn’t answer. After a moment, Kate crept over and opened it just a crack to see if he was still there.

Shayne stood directly on the other side with his arms folded like he’d been waiting.

“Do you want to be saved by me, Human?” he asked. A tantalizing smile danced over his mouth. “Are you the sort of female who likes to be saved by a strong male?”

Kate grunted, thinking about slamming the door in his face. “No way. I think women are perfectly able to save themselves.”

Shayne’s smile grew. Finally, the laugh he was bottling tumbled out and he turned to leave. “Tell me that again when the Prince of the North finds you and pins you in a corner with his fairsaber,” he mumbled as he left the bedroom.

Kate shut the bathroom door, breathing in the quiet. She twisted on the hot water. It seemed like Shayne’s questions were always the ones that ran through her mind long after he asked them.

The noise of the water roared in Kate’s ears.

“Why did you concern yourself with our Prince, anyway?”

Only you would save someone who’s trying to kill you, Katherine Lewis.

Her conscience took on Lily Baker’s voice again.