Chapter One
“Unicorn hot chocolate please,” I say to the server when it’s finally my turn at the front of the queue. I’m addicted to the fully loaded, over-the-top sweet concoction that my favorite coffee shop, Jewels Cafe, offers. It’s totally worth the wait. Since opening, this place has gone from strength to strength, and every time I come in here—which admittedly is probably more often than is healthy, given the amount of sugar I tend to consume—it seems to be busier than the last visit.
I love the atmosphere in the cafe, how every type of resident in Silver Springs chooses to hang out here. It’s the perfect place to sit alone and think, to work all afternoon, or to meet with friends to socialize. I’m intuitive to these things, and I get great vibes from this place, unlike the bakery across the street. I wouldn’t set foot in that place if they had the last cranberry and pistachio soda bread loaf on earth.
“Hey, Jasmine, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one of my pumpkin spiced lattes?” Julian, one of the shop’s co-owners, asks and points to a sign on the counter top that advertises their infamous drink. He smiles at me with piercing eyes that aren’t quite blue, and aren’t quite grey, but that are full of mischievous humor.
“No thank you, Julian.” I laugh. “I’ve seen what your lattes do.”
“What do you mean?” He frowns and pouts teasingly.
“I see things,” I say, tapping the center of my forehead with a knowing smile.
I’m referring of course to The Sight: visions of the future which come to me whether I like it or not. I’ve learned over the years to just go with it, and since moving to Silver Springs, I’ve even managed to find a way to make a living out of them, and a few other tricks I’ve picked up along the way.
“You’re one hell of a witch,” he tells me, impressed.
“Half-witch,” I correct him, fiddling absentmindedly with my long dark curls. “And no, I’m not.”
I pull a face that clearly lets him know I’d like to change the subject. I have very little control over my visions or other ‘powers’ my clients deem me to have. I’m not an expensive charlatan or anything—in fact, I strongly try to refute the claims bestowed upon me—but somehow an excellent reputation has stuck, even in the relatively short space of time that I’ve been here.
“I don’t see why you don’t want to try a pumpkin spice latte.” He smirks, changing the subject.
“Yeah, no. That’s not for me,” I insist. I’m pretty sure he’s referring to the non-coincidence of the pumpkin spiced latte drinkers just happening to find their one (or several) true loves after having drunk one. Word hasn’t really gotten out about it, but like I said, I see things. A harem is just not what I need right now. Or ever. I can’t even handle one man.
“I’ll just be taking that unicorn drink please,” I add, but I quickly turn away from the counter when a guy in the queue behind me harrumphs, making me jump.
“What?” I demand with an amused smile and a quizzical brow raise.
“Why is it called a unicorn hot chocolate? Why do unicorns get all the glory?” He sounds really miffed and a tad sulky, just like my ex. “Do you know how many times I see unicorns with wings? Wings I tell you! Unicorns can’t fly.”
“So they’re Pegasuses,” Julian shrugs. “Or is it Pegasusi?”
“Pegasi seems more likely,” I add with my own shrug. “But then again Pegeese and Pegise both have a nice ring to them.” I’m barely containing my laughter, and a quick catch of Julian’s eye tells me he’s doing the same.
“Well, whatever the plural of flying unicorn is,” Julian chimes in again. His eyes are twinkling and I can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing, winding up the stranger behind me. Perhaps he isn’t a stranger to Julian; I can’t imagine him deliberately going out of his way to upset customers. They must be friends.
“UNICORNS CAN’T FLY!!!” The stranger explodes, causing me to stare at him with my mouth agape. He’d probably be kind of cute—okay hot—if he wasn’t foaming at the mouth and getting his panties in a twist over my unicorn drink. Luckily, I’ve learned my lesson with explosive but sexy assholes. I’m talking about my ex, not bowel problems. They’d be preferable over dealing with my ex ever again.
“Look,” I say placatingly. “If you can get my hot chocolate to fly to me, I’ll happily name it anything you like.” I wink at him, and he seems a little taken aback by my action.
At that moment, Julian slides said drink toward me and I gratefully accept it, pay, and take it to my table over by the window. While I sit, I admire the pretty, purple gem on the side of the mug. I love how every time I come here, Julian always manages to give me a different colored gem. I’ve yet to decide on my favorite. I’m pretty indecisive like that. Perhaps he knows.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t found love yet: if I can’t even decide on my favorite color, film or food, how on earth will I ever decide on a partner?
Momentarily distracted, I stare out of the window at the residents of Silver Springs as they go about their business, enjoying their lunch breaks like me, completely oblivious to everyone around them. As a half-human, half-witch resident of the town, I feel like I get to live the best of both worlds. The town is home to a wide range of supernaturals who live in harmony, alongside—mostly—blissfully ignorant humans. The wards surrounding the town keep everyone safe and protected, not just the supes. I’m lucky enough to work with both humans and supes in my shop, Jas’ Jewels.
When my British full-witch great-grandma died, she left me a small inheritance and I decided to up and move (ex-boyfriend issues, you know how it is!) and use the money to open a small shop, Stateside. At the moment, I offer a wide variety of services and items to the Silver Springs community, but I am planning on seeing what sells over the coming year, and then specializing and streamlining a little. Tarot and crystal ball readings have been surprisingly popular with both the supes and the humans. I also offer intuitive crystal healing and herbal ointments, tinctures and spells. Alongside my visions of the future.
Frustratingly though, I can never seem to read my own future. Whenever I try, all I see is wood. And not the kinky kind of wood—heaven knows I could do with some of that—but actual trees, woods, forests...I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure it’s a variety of trees that I see, usually around four kinds that tend to recur, but I’m completely stumped when it comes to deciphering the meaning.
I reach out, wrap my hands around the warm mug, and smile down at my drink. I can’t stand coffee, and I rarely drink tea, but I’m a sucker for hot chocolate. I’ve tried every variety. And this beauty—ruby cocoa—is my new favorite. It’s topped with cream, loaded with marshmallows, sprinkles, flakes, sparkles...you name it, it’s on there. And best of all, it’s pink!
I take a drink, appreciating the perfect drinking temperature and the slightly berry, fruity flavor. It really is good, whatever it’s called. While I sip and watch the world go by, I muse over one of the more recent visitors to my shop.
Magnolia was a return customer who swung by yesterday to introduce me to her three hunky guys, and to thank me for her recent reading. She thinks it helped her overcome her insecurities to get with them, but I think she had it in her all along. It was so nice of her to return to thank me though, not everyone does. And man, were her three hunks hot! It almost makes me long for a little of what she’s found.