I didn’t consider myself particularly argumentative. But when it came to the sanctity of egg cooking techniques, I was firmly in the non-poached camp.

It wasn’t because there was anything about the inherent gloopiness of a poached egg which I found dissatisfying. On the contrary, that was the best bit. My only problem was that everyone agreed more. If I was in the cafe, I was probably poaching eggs. And if I wasn’t watching poaching eggs, I was probably scrubbing off their remains.

Because if there's one thing gloopier than a poached egg, it's the remains of one after Tutu decided bowls were just an extra step.

After all, why eat on tableware when the table itself was both bigger and flatter?

“Bad Tutu,” said Lize, yoinking him from the spillage he was both eating and bathing in. “At this rate, we're going to have to teach you to use a knife and fork.”

I looked up from the table, eggy dishcloth in hand.

“We're?” I queried.

“I reckon if we both teach him how to use cutlery, he'll probably learn how to use at least one of them.”

“I think teaching Tutu how to use a knife and fork is going to invite questions about whether or not we're trying to weaponise him.”

“It’s fine. He's a cat. He’s naturally going to grow teeth and claws which hit like pickaxes. Teaching him to use a knife and fork will only make him safer.”

Lize gave an exaggerated huff as she plonked him down on his usual spot on the counter. It also remained one of the few surfaces not to have been scratched.

I looked down at the table, now more or less yolk-free. Cleaning up after a winged tabby with poor table manners wasn't really how I wanted to spend my short break after the lunch rush, but I was glad I was spending it here and not, say, stuck inside a minotaur's labyrinth.

A few days had passed since my latest bout with solving Witschblume's random ills.

The postal network was operational again, and to the credit of the witches, had resumed their services amidst a storm of refund pledges. As Sir Arthur Tranlingway's labyrinth was the direct result of the archwitches' wishes, I imagine it'd be shaky grounds to argue that their inability to deliver was hampered strictly by events outside their control.

Not that the witches were likely to pull such a stunt. The adepts that made up the rank and file were drilled on professionalism before magic, and that attitude typically carried all the way until one was wise, powerful and experienced enough to reach the rank of archwitch, whereupon they immediately forgot everything.

They say that power corrupts. But in the case of witches, it was slightly more nuanced. They just lost their marbles.

Ding-a-ling-a-ling.

I looked up, glad for the excuse to not check over the other tables for bits of runny yolk to clean up. It didn't really matter that Tutu only had one bowl to spill. If witches could fly through the sky, then so could an Eggs Benedict.

“Welcome,” I said, before immediately correcting my posture. “Lady Uxna, what a lovely surprise!”

I beamed, doing better at hiding my shock than Lize. She wasted no time in patting down her waitress uniform for all the things that Lady Uxna of the Blood Shrieker Tribe had likely already spotted.

The head maid smiled politely nonetheless. She dipped her head beneath the door frame, then unscrunched herself up after squeezing inside.

“Good afternoon,” she said, indulging in a curious look around at the cafe's post-lunch chaos and décor. “I hope I'm not disturbing. The sign indicated you were open.”

“No worries, we're open!” replied Lize, as cheerfully as if this wasn't their first time meeting. Which it was. “It just gets like this after lunch time. Like a party in a fish bowl one hour and then a haunted house the next. Take a seat! Elise just finished up cleaning egg yolk.”

I raised my tablecloth as proof, complete with sticky stuff, then pointed at the tabby lounging on the counter.

“Tutu likes to play with his bowls.”

“I see … I've heard you were keeping a flying black tabby. Frankly, I wasn't aware they could be domesticated.”

“Neither were we.”

“Has he eaten any goblins yet?”

“No, but I've made it very clear that this would be a bad thing to do.”

“Good. The duchess has encouraged enough animosity without the local heroine also sparking a diplomatic incident. Speaking of which, you were seen flying over Heizholm on your way to the New Bewitching Woods. Mayor Daris has noted your intrusion. He sent an official complaint to the Ducal Estate yesterday.”

I looked pointedly away. Even so, I could see Lady Uxna's raised eyebrow pointing towards me.

“I did have jurisdiction,” I said honestly.

“Indeed.” Lady Uxna smiled amicably, but the steadiness in how she held herself was only one indication of why she'd survived as head maid to the demands of Duchess Cadence. “Including, as I was forced to write, over his very chimney.”

I winced.

It was possible, just possible, that I'd been too keen to use my legally enchanted broomstick. Official heroine business probably mattered little to the lady I'd alarmed into dropping her laundry she was airing from the windowsill. A lady who I now knew was likely the mayor of Heizholm’s wife.

“I'll try to stick to the roads next time. Or above them, at least.”

Lady Uxna nodded, then turned her attention to Lize. My co-worker stood to attention, salute and all.

“I'd like to try Madame Zaiba's recommendation,” said Lady Uxna, taking the salute with amusement. “Carrot cake and a splodge of whipped cream with afternoon tea. She insists it puts the competition to shame. I'd like to test that claim.”

“At your service!” said Lize, a platter already in her hands. “Our second most popular combo set. Please be seated and we'll be with you in a moment.”

Lady Uxna did as instructed. She headed towards the table I'd finished cleaning, paused to stare at a blotch only she could see, then sat down without ever looking at it again.

“Out of curiosity, what is your most popular set?”

Without missing a beat, Lize pointed at a jug by her side, then at the tablecloth I was still holding.

“Poached eggs on extra buttery toast, plus bottomless coffee until you need to use the restroom. An all-day set which offers amazing value for money.”

Lady Uxna's expression didn't change. Her smile neither hardened nor wavered. And yet I knew instantly why the head maid now found herself in the Bread & Berry Cafe.

I rarely witnessed Lady Uxna doing the rounds through town. None of her duties took her outside the castle, after all. So as far as I knew, she was still on the clock.

This was official business.

Either she was about to inquire more deeply about the events of the New Bewitching Woods, or that carrot cake was part of an impromptu food safety inspection. Probably both.

“Poached eggs and coffee,” she mused as I busied my hands with scouring clean a table for her. “As far as prophecy goes, I suppose this leaves rather little room for interpretation. Unless there's another cafe with a part-time heroine serving poached eggs and bottomless coffee sets, I'd say it's a clear indication that the awakening of the Next Great Evil was pinpointed to this precise location.”

I shook my head.

I had my own fears, of course, which is why I'd only indulged in a handful of aerial cartwheels on the way back after the prophecy disclosure. But those worries had been guided by an abundance of general caution, not facts or precedent.

“Prophecies are muddled by nature. It's not in their nature to provide clarity, only riddles. And this one is even less than that. It's just as likely that the Next Great Evil suffers a crippling allergy to poached eggs and coffee as it is that the Bread & Berry Cafe is the location for its coming.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Normally, I would agree. However, the minotaur disclosed the prophecy to you, Elise. A heroine intimately familiar with serving the named breakfast set.”

“It’s an all day set.”

“An all day set, then. And one which I believe wasn’t brought to you by mere chance.”

“I'm not saying it’s not. But I wouldn’t try to glean more than what’s available, which is quite little. I’d certainly not bet on the Next Great Evil waking beneath our floorboards. For one thing, we just had them done. The noise would have woken an ancient vampire from a coffin, and they're heavy sleepers.”

Lady Uxna waited as Lize came over and set a plate of carrot cake and a mug of steaming hot tea for her.

“On the house,” she said cheerfully.

“Really? Why, thank you.”

The head maid smiled in appreciation, then took a polite sip. I wasn't sure if anything was actually drunk.

“I certainly wouldn't bet, either,” she said. “However, to the Ducal Estate, it would not be a bet, but an insurance against the worst case scenario. Cursory preparations need to be seen to, at the bare minimum.”

I held in a groan.

Madame Zaiba was going to ask me a lot of questions about why the inevitable undead wards and magical barriers were doing a number on the newly chosen paint scheme.

“I understand. Although if I may ask, why has the duchess only now decided to treat this as a possible awakening? She was, um ... ambivalent when I briefed her on the events of the New Bewitching Woods.”

Specifically, the duchess said there was always a prophecy being puked from a talking mirror somewhere, and that unless hard names and locations were being mentioned, I was to find her a real calamity she could inflict on her populace.

Lady Uxna looked suddenly tired. She glanced at the clock on the wall, letting me know in no uncertain terms that whatever she wanted to say about her employer, she lacked both the time and the unprofessionalism.

I felt a pang of sympathy for her. I thought that the customers who tapped their fingers while waiting for their morning coffee were sometimes difficult, but the one she served beverages to was an unsleeping clockwork automaton. Lady Uxna's own sleep schedule was probably worse than mine.

I bit my lips, withholding the urge to ask if the duchess actually let her sleep.

“Truth be told, I was only recently informed by the duchess of the events surrounding your expedition over Heizholm's rooftops. I impressed upon her at once the potential gravity of any prophecy, and that the cost of ignoring it far outweighed the cost of adhering to basic caution.”

I nodded, writing as much apology into my face as I could.

“What basic caution did you have in mind? I don't want to sound immodest, but bearing in mind that I do live here, I would have thought that this was enough of a safeguard.”

“It is and it isn't. I'm more than aware of your exemplary gifts provided by your calling, but I worry that your proximity to the cafe will dull or even circumvent your natural abilities for detecting evil.”

I gave it a moment's thought.

To be honest, I didn't really see how living above the cafe where a great evil might rise was anything but beneficial as far as early warning systems went, but in the end, it wasn't my place to argue. Lady Uxna, through Duchess Cadence, was responsible for the security of Witschblume. If it put her mind at ease to install a few barriers, I didn’t think even Madame Zaiba would complain.

Not too loudly, at least.

“Hmm … in that case, would you like the witches to erect some high strength wards? I know a few who are well regarded, including one I met recently. I believe I'd be able to secure a generous discount on behalf of the Ducal Estate.”

Lady Uxna took another dip of tea, delicately pausing before answering.

The outright suggestion, of course, that it would be the duchess and not the cafe that would fork the extensive bill was not lost on her.

“Actually, I was thinking about removing the source of the potential Next Great Evil altogether.”

“Excuse me?”

Lady Uxna turned her head.

Then, she looked directly at Tutu.

The flying tabby, sensing all eyes on him, looked up to the sudden fanfare of attention. He gave his wings a tiny flap, then yawned and went back to grooming himself.

Suddenly, he was picked up by a pair of hands.

“Look at you!” said Lize, joy blooming on her face as she lifted the indignant tabby into the air. “You're going to be the Next Great Evil! Isn't that amazing? Gosh, just think of all the tourists you're going to bring in! We might even be able to afford doing up the rooms upstairs!”

Tutu struggled ineffectually in Lize's grip. He gave up and started licking her face instead.

For my part, I was mortified.

Tutu as the Next Great Evil?

It was unthinkable. Aside from the fact that the most evil thing Tutu did was steal gingerbread biscuits and then leave a trail of crumbs incriminating the tabby next door, he was already well-known with our regulars.

Next Great Evils rose from obscurity. Tutu was already a middling celebrity. If he became frisky with two separate lady friends, he would earn his first scandal in the back pages of The Witschblume Times.

Moreover, Tutu was just a little too lazy.

“Lady Uxna, if you’re suggesting that Tutu could be the identity of the Next Great Evil, then I believe you’re likely to be mistaken. Evil is not an occupation. It's a lifestyle. And Tutu enjoys lounging in the sun just a bit too much to make the kind of time commitment necessary in order to bring terror to these lands.”

Lady Uxna politely sipped at her tea, then forked around with her slice of carrot cake without actually eating it.

“That is indeed what I'm suggesting. Flying black tabbys, unless I'm mistaken, are carnivores predisposed towards magic, eating, and growing extremely large through said magic and eating. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that this particular one may become a being of indiscriminate destruction.”

“Well, yes, he does cause a bit of a mess when he gets into the plates cupboard, but I wouldn't say it’s necessarily an indication towards greater calamities.”

My attention was suddenly drawn to the cup of tea in Lady Uxna's hand. The amber liquid's smooth surface quivered like a pond disturbed by a pebble.

“Neither am I.” Lady Uxna settled back in her seat, unaware of the tremor her tea had just suffered. “But there are other concerns at play. A local prophecy will not go unknown for long. Once The Witschblume Times catches wind of this ...”

I let out an involuntary sigh, attention snapping back towards closer matters.

In the end, this visit was as much about public appearance as it was about public safety.

It was rare, and indeed, unnecessary for Lady Uxna to visit herself. Especially as the norm was that I was summoned to the castle for all work related matters.

I couldn't fault her for taking the initiative on smoothing over public concerns before they even arose, though. That was her job. As well as ensuring that Duchess Cadence never realised vegetables were secretly grated into most of her meals.

Clink.

“I understand the concerns,” I conceded, glancing over at the tabby now slipping away from Lize's clutches and dashing towards the shelter of the nearest corner. “But whatever conclusions people draw, I'm still reasonably certain that this particular prophecy isn't alluding to Tutu eating anyone just yet.”

Lady Uxna nodded.

I wasn't quite sure whether that was for what I'd just said, or to the first bite of carrot cake she had.

Clink. Clink.

“The validity of all our concerns aside, it would be best for Tutu's well-being that he not be forced to endure too much public scrutiny. It would be no small irony if he garners a ruinous distaste for civilization through being pestered by tabloid journalists and gossiping customers.”

I felt myself musing over the serious tone Lady Uxna was offering.

It was less diplomatic than what I was used to hearing, but then again, our conversations rarely extended beyond the amount of grams of sugar that was ideal for a jam sponge cake.

And yet I was not inclined to entirely disagree with her. Whether I liked it or not, there would be questions over the cafe and with its only inhabitant that needed regular declawing.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

“Do you suggest keeping Tutu upstairs?” I asked, before a far less kind option dawned on me. “I certainly hope you don't mean to lock him away in the castle until this prophecy business blows over.”

Lady Uxna raised a palm, stilling my horror before it could fully manifest.

“I would never make that request. For one thing, the duchess would highly disagree with the addition of new company while the badgers are still giving her grief. No, I simply ask that you keep a close eye on him. A very close eye. And yes, preferably involving the assistance of a witch or two as well.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Not only for Tutu's sake. But for the duchess's.

It was one thing to imagine him not breaking my favourite crockery in the cafe. It was quite another to imagine him not willfully destroying every piece of very expensive porcelain the duchess possessed.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

“Well, fortunately, I usually do that in any event. And if not, then Lize does. I can assure you that should we catch any hint of the Next Great Evil coming out of him, he is going straight into the bathtub for a thorough shampooing session. As for a witch, I’ll begin inquiries.”

“Thank you. I'll be sure to relay your words verbatim to the press once they inevitably decide to hound us in turn.”

I immediately reviewed what my words were.

“Could you please add that I also said I'd take away his favourite treats if any Evilness arose?”

“That I can.” Lady Uxna raised her cup to her lips. “By the way, Miss Rowe, a question if I may?”

“By all means.”

“Why is my teacup, and indeed, every teacup, trembling with alarming frequency?”

I looked at the stacks of everything not currently nailed to the floor, which was currently wobbling like unset jelly.

I counted the timing of the wobbling, then noted the updraft beginning to make itself known.

“I think a dragon is about to visit.”

“I see.”

Lady Uxna downed her cup, just in time for the hot liquid to not spill over her when the enormous shadow began to descend onto the cafe.

Within seconds, the shadow was joined by the fwooshing of a great pair of wings, spinning dust and bits of gravel past the gaps of the door. Lize was already opening the broomstick cupboard. She only paused when the localised earthquake known as a dragon landing threatened to even evict Tutu from his corner.

Excusing myself from Lady Uxna with a nod, I went over to the door and pushed it wide open.

“Welcome,” I said cheerfully to our newest fire breathing customer. “Would you like a seat outside?”