Page 61 of Welcome to Fae Cafe
From inside theYarn & 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 theYarn & 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 theYarn & Stitchstore. 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’sgone?” 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.
