Chapter 3 – Coffee, Please
Rowan pushed open the door to Howl café with his shoulder, Seraphina still clinging to his arm like a dramatic goth accessory.
The little bell above the door jingled once and then decided to take the rest of the day off.
Inside smelled like heaven if heaven was made of espresso and cinnamon rolls. A couple of college kids were arguing over a laptop. An old guy in the corner was reading a newspaper that definitely had yesterday's date. Normal Tuesday stuff.
Rowan steered Seraphina to the counter.
The barista looked up and froze.
She was tall, built like someone who could bench-press a truck, silver hair shaved on one side, golden eyes, black apron that said BITE ME (I DARE YOU) in white letters. Name tag: MILA.
Mila's nostrils flared. She smelled vampire (freshly ascended, dripping with stolen divinity) and under that, something that made her inner wolf sit up and howl so loud the espresso machine rattled.
Rowan smiled the sleepy customer smile. "Morning, Mila. Large dark roast, two sugars, and whatever the lady wants. She's having a rough one."
Mila didn't move. Her pupils were doing that thing cats do when they see a laser pointer: huge and black and locked on Rowan.
Seraphina hissed. Actually hissed, like a cat that just got its tail stepped on.
Rowan looked between them. "You two know each other?"
Mila vaulted the counter.
No warning. One second behind the register, next second sliding across the floor on her knees, apron ripping at the seams, eyes glowing amber. The college kids screamed and dropped their laptops. The old guy with the newspaper just turned the page.
Mila stopped an inch from Rowan's sneakers, breathing hard, hands clawing at the air like she wanted to grab him but was scared she'd break something.
"Mate," she growled.
Rowan blinked down at her. "Uh… do I owe you money? I'm pretty sure I paid last time."
Mila made a noise that was half whine, half sob, and pressed her forehead against his knee.
Seraphina's grip on his arm tightened to steel-cable levels. "Back. Off. Leech food."
Rowan patted Mila's head without thinking. "Hey, easy. No fighting in cafés, my insurance doesn't cover that."
The moment his palm touched her hair, every light in the place dimmed like someone turned down the sun's brightness setting. Mila went completely limp, melting against his leg with a happy rumble that vibrated the floor.
The espresso machine stopped hissing. Outside, the clouds parted just enough to let one perfect beam of sunlight land on Rowan like he was the main character in a shampoo commercial.
Rowan looked around. "Power surge?"
Mila nuzzled his shin. Seraphina looked two seconds from committing murder with a stir stick.
Rowan sighed. "Right. Coffee first, existential crises later. Mila, can you stand up? People are staring."
Mila stood. She was shaking. Also smiling like she'd just won the lottery, the Super Bowl, and a lifetime supply of belly rubs.
She vaulted back over the counter, punched buttons on the register at mach speed, and two seconds later shoved a tray at him: one large dark roast, one strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream, and a plate of cinnamon rolls that definitely hadn't been on the menu five seconds ago.
"On the house," she croaked. "Forever."
Rowan tried to pull out his wallet. "I can pa—"
"Forever," Mila repeated, voice cracking.
Seraphina snatched the milkshake and drank half of it in one sulky pull.
Rowan took his coffee, found a corner booth, and sat. The two women followed like he was dragging them with invisible leashes.
He took a sip. Perfect temperature. Exactly two sugars. "Thanks, Mila."
Mila, still behind the counter, actually wagged. There was no tail visible, but the motion was unmistakable.
Rowan chalked it up to her being really, really friendly.
He looked at Seraphina. "So. You bite strangers often, or was today special?"
Seraphina opened her mouth, closed it, then hid behind the milkshake.
Rowan shrugged. "Cool. We'll circle back to that. I'm gonna be late for work."
He had no idea the moon had just permanently adjusted its orbit so Mila would never have another bad full-moon shift again.
He had no idea Seraphina's reflection in the café window now had twelve glowing wings and a halo made of nightmares.
He definitely had no idea that the cinnamon rolls on his plate were shaped like tiny hearts.
Rowan just drank his coffee, yawned, and muttered, "People are so weird before noon."
The universe, listening in, nodded solemnly.
Weird was just getting started.