Page 2 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

He interrupted her ashamed musings. “Slow down, Zephyr. Or I’ll have the sheriff put a boot on that broom of yours.” He grabbed his box off her counter and turned toward the door.

Zephyr shouted at his back, “That doesn’t even make any sense!”

Neil didn’t acknowledge her as he left, the bell at the top of the post office door tinkling as it swung shut. Zephyr let her forehead fall until it hit the counter. It was only ten in the morning, and she had just been lectured by her high school Potions partner.

What was she doing back here? If she wanted to fade into obscurity after her retirement from racing, why would she choose the town where everyone knew her? And they didn’t know the racer version of her, the woman who had dominated and partied and flirted. They knew the smart-mouthed teenager who had vowed never to return. It was all so embarrassing.

She shut her eyes until the nightmare returned—the free-falling and spinning, the memory of her vision switching from open blue sky to the quickly advancing ground. Her stomach sank as she righted herself, shaking her head violently.

She was not falling. She was on solid ground. She was safe.

But she was lost.

Chapter 2

Delivery prep started promptly at dawn. Some days. The days when Zephyr’s alarm managed to actually wake her. Gods, she used to be a morning person. A really obnoxious morning person.

Luckily, if her alarm failed her, there was something else up to the task.

The chirping was anything but pleasant, and it was directly into her ear. Claws landed in her hair as her familiar, a brilliant red cardinal, thrashed until she woke.

Zephyr covered her face with her hands and whisper-screamed, “Dale! That’s enough! You little hellraiser.” Her familiar looked as if he belonged on a holiday card, but he acted like a demon sometimes.

The cardinal hopped off her head, his reign of terror a success. Dale tweeted a victory tune as Zephyr grumbled and pawed through her closet for her work uniform.

WITH DALE ON HER SHOULDER and her new, agonizingly slow broomstick in her hands, Zephyr flew through Pumpkin Hollow’s quaint streets until the coffee shop, Enchantresso, rose into view through the early fog.

Fighting the urge to rub her sleepy eyes and smudge her eyeliner, she dismounted her broom and stumbled inside to order a very dirty chai latte. She left her red motorcycle helmet on, flipping up the visor so she could chat with the barista. After a concerning number of espresso shots were poured into her drink, the warmth of the paper cup bled into her hands as she left the shop and returned to the air, flying a little faster to the post office.

She preferred Pumpkin Hollow like this. Quiet and empty sidewalks with streetlights filled with floating, orange witchlights that dimmed as the sun rose. She passed the Finnegans’ repair shop, the garage door halfway raised as someone inside played quiet music.

At the Pumpkin Hollow Post entryway, Zephyr hopped off her broomstick and carried it inside, leaning it against her shoulder with the bristles pointing upward.

It didn’t take much to keep the post office running. Zephyr handled all deliveries on her broomstick, and Lyle, a vampire, spent the night organizing the mail and doing all the accounting. Lyle was still at the office, scrambling to shove his travel mug and lunchbox into his messenger bag. The sun had yet to rise, but Lyle was running out of time to make it home before daylight.

“I can give you a ride home,” Zephyr offered. She gave her broomstick a meaningful shake. “She may not be racing material, but she’ll beat that sunrise.”

“How undignified,” Lyle said with a frown. He adjusted his black necktie as if her very suggestion made him feel disheveled. He avoided the bright post office uniform in favor of a suit tailored more for a funeral director than a post office manager. Lyle added, “Hanging on for dear life as you race that death trap around the Hollow is no way to end one’s night.”

She pouted her lower lip. “You’re hurting my confidence.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he sniffed. “You’re the most overconfident witch I know.”

“Overconfident?” Zephyr scoffed.

A woman came between them. Tawny, the owl shifter who handled the front desk, held out her hands peacefully. She possessed the ability to change between her human body and her owl form. Zephyr liked Tawny. It was nice to talk to someone who also enjoyed flying.

Tawny said diplomatically, “Lyle, Zephyr, if you don’t quit bickering, Lyle won’t be able to leave and he’ll have to sleep in the breakroom again. Lunch isn’t as enjoyable when you know there’s a vampire sleeping inside a locker.”

“And I brought honey-garlic chicken for lunch today, Lyle. Better get moving,” Zephyr teased.

“Hilarious. I’ll see you at closing,” Lyle said to Tawny as he left. His dull voice seemed softer. Zephyr rolled her eyes at him.

Tawny just nodded and yawned, returning to the front desk to begin the opening tasks. Zephyr dropped her broom behind the counter and grabbed a cloth for dusting. Tawny liked a clean space before they opened their doors.

“We really need another body,” Zephyr whined. “It’s not fair that Lyle never does bathroom duty.”

“He’s a vampire. He doesn’t even use it.”