Page 64 of Haunt Me, Maybe

“No customers,” Briony announced cheerfully from behind the counter. She already had her apron on and two cups of coffee made. “The cold snap scared everyone back under their blankets. Which means I get you all to myself.”

Aven rubbed her hands together, glancing around. “That’s probably for the best.”

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag before she hung it on a peg, and I drifted closer, recognizing the debate in her eyes.

“You don’t have to practice today,” I said, lowering my voice even though Briony couldn’t hear me.

We had a minor argument about it on the way over. I thought taking a break, especially after her nightmares last night, would be as beneficial as a day of practice. Aven didn’t agree. She was spooked. Beyond spooked—terrified that Gideon was around the corner.

She wanted to go to the other omen sites, practice until her nose bled. If Fenn wasn’t in the ground, I wasn’t even sure she would have hesitated like this.

“Aven—”

“I know,” she murmured. “I just—every time we stop, it feels like I’m giving him ground.”

The café creaked softly, a beam settling. If I had to guess, I’d say it agreed with me, but I knew it would protect her any way it could. There was enough of a magical signature here that small illusions shouldn’t hurt. But we’d be practicing without a safety net. Without her familiar.

Aven didn’t seem to care.

She unwrapped her scarf and hung it beside her bag, took a few sips of the offered coffee, and then surveyed the empty café.

“I need to practice,” she told Briony.

“Magic?” The excited barista asked. “Yes! I’ve been dying to see more.”

I snorted, and Aven glared at me.

“Her vote doesn’t count. She just wants to see a party trick.”

“I wasn’t taking votes anyway,” Aven argued back. “It’s my decision.”

So it was. I was worried her fear was pushing her to be reckless. But if she was determined, I would do what I could to help. I leaned against the counter, arms folded, and watched her with a mix of pride and frustration.

“Small is fine,” I relented. “Controlled is better.”

She nodded, and my shoulders relaxed. At least she planned to be careful.

Briony glanced toward the empty space beside Aven and grinned. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Aven startled. “You⁠—”

“I can’t see him,” Briony said, smirking over her mug. “And I can’t hear him. But the café told me we weren’t the only ones here.”

Not for the first time, I wondered about Briony’s magic. It saturated this place, blending so well with that of the café’s that I knew it was somehow related…or the cause of the ancient building’s sentience. I hadn’t seen her cast anything, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t apprehensive about what would happen when she figured out how.

Would spells from another witch draw Gideon here faster? Even be on his radar? Had she been unknowingly performing magic this entire time, and the café’s signature covered it?

It was a confusing mess of questions; what a fun way to learn ghosts could get headaches.

“I want—need—to work on my control,” she told Briony. “But it’s too cold to do it outside where I normally practice, and without Fenn…I’m scared something could go wrong.”

“This place has enough coverage for small work,” I reiterated, gently. “And it won’t let anything happen to you.”

The café answered for me—a sharp thump from one of the tables, like it was offended she even considered the alternative.

I laughed. “See? Deeply insulted.”

Briony frowned at the table and then swung her head back and forth, searching for more aggravated furniture.