Natalia’s P. O. V

“So, Kaesha, you said something about not getting chances to use your magic often, why’s that? I thought witches practiced regularly.”

We were at a breakfast bar not far from Killdrain. We’d both ordered and were waiting for our food to arrive. As I took a quick look around, I spotted someone in far corner, out of human hearing range. His back, broad and taut with athletic muscles through his tight shirt, was facing me so I couldn’t see his face. He looked like he’d be really tall if he stood and had a full head of jet black hair. He ate slowly and there was no one present apart from him. He smelled like citrus cologne, light smoke and mildly… amorous…

The thought alarmed me. Not wanting to dwell on him or his scent, I turned my attention back to Kaesha.

She nodded, “They do, when they’re in a coven. I don’t belong to one.”

“Why not?”

She laughed. Instead of holding her usual cheeriness that I’d been presented with since I met her, it was a bitter sound, “They wanted to kill me because apparently I’m too powerful and the coven leader, Alana, saw me as a threat. She thought the power would get to me and I’d overthrow her. My best friend warned me so I escaped before she could kill me and take the lingering magic from my remains to add to hers.”

“Well that sucks but if you still have your magic so why don’t you practice regularly by yourself?”

“I have a human roommate at Killdrain that doesn’t go out much. Imagine how she’d freak if she catches me using my magic to summon a cup of coffee or library book?”

We both laughed at the thought.

“You go to Killdrain?”

She nodded, “Yeah, been there for a year now. I noticed the spell when I first arrived. It didn’t affect me the way it did you but I still cast a counter spell for myself anyway, just to be safe. I’d been meaning to check it out for any connections to my old coven but always found an excuse to put it off. When you’re hiding from something, you’re always wary of everything, even if it has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Oh, didn’t I know it.

“So, are you satisfied with what you found?”

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but stopped as I heard the kitchen door open. My phone pinged and I checked the new message. It was a text from Hailey, asking if she could come over to my place alone at noon and stay over cause she was sick of Keily’s attitude and needed a long break. I typed my reply and hit send just as I heard a crash and looked up. The brunet waiter was fumbling on the floor near our table, muttering cusses under his breath, trying to clean up the mess of broken plates, spilt coffee and fallen food.

I put my phone away and grabbed the nearest napkin, trying to help and Kaesha, who I noticed had been staring intently at me till that point, did the same. We managed to clean the mess up quickly, despite his insistence that he do it alone, and sat back down. Tyson, according to his nametag, hurried to replace our order. He nearly collided with the door on his way back because he kept glancing back at us.

Through the door, I heard the cook on duty, also a guy from the sound of his voice, ask the waiter if he was feeling well, probably due to his flushed face.

“Poor guy. He was totally checking you out. He’s probably embarrassed out of his mind now.” Kaesha smiled mischievously.

“You’re funny.” I said dryly.

She shook her head, “No, I’m serious. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you and ended up tripping over his own feet. Even as he was leaving, didn’t you see that he kept looking back at you?”

“He was probably checking to see if we were laughing.”

She smirked, “I bet a page of my Spellbook he’ll ask for your number.”

A witch’s Spellbook was an immensely precious to them and no one was permitted to see it unless they were extremely close to them. Why was she so serious about this?

“Deal. If you win, I’ll tell you something I probably shouldn’t about myself.”

‘Natalia.’ Candy warned. She’d never called me that.

‘She’s betting something precious to her, it’d be rude not to do the same. She’d think I’m not taking her seriously. Besides, I feel like she’s a trustworthy person and her situation is very similar to ours anyway.’

She stayed silent.

Soon after, the waiter came back with our replacement meal. I watched as he alternated his gaze between the ground in front of him and our table, or more specifically, me. Kaesha and I watched in silence as he set the food before us and poured Kaesha’s coffee. He almost poured it on her lap because his attention was so divided, similarly with my orange juice too.

“H-here you go. S-sorry about the… mess… earlier.” He stammered with a vague Australian accent, facing me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I smiled, “It’s alright. Everyone makes mistakes, right?”

He stood there, holding the tray and stared for a solid awkward thirty seconds before Kaesha cleared her throat. I heard his heart race a mile a minute and he turned even redder than he already was, resembling a ripe tomato, then retreated with his tray, tripping again. He got back up and glanced back at us then scurried through the door.

I heard the cook drop something and hurry over to the waiter, plagued with worry over his health. They conversed back and forth, although the waiter stumbled over his words. I felt my cheeks warm up as the waiter managed to string together a sentence.

“There’s this gorgeous dudette out there and I totally made a fool of myself!”

I heard a crack and, looking back at the dark haired stranger, saw a crack in his mug of coffee. Hmmm…

“Told you so.” Keasha smirked, noticing my light blush.

“He said there’s a gorgeous girl, he could’ve been talking about you. You’re beautiful.” It was true, Kaesha was gorgeous in her own right but by now, I’d realised that she wasn’t the subject here so my argument was weak.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one he was looking at.” She stated then took a bite out of her honey covered waffle, ending that conversation.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Kaesha started upon swallowing, “I don’t think the school’s barrier is connected to my coven but you can never be too careful. Since I wasn’t able to pinpoint the exact spell used, it’s probably either layered with a protective spell of some sort or it’s old enough for the origin to become blurred.”

“What kind of spells do you specialise in?”

“I don’t really specialise in any one category. Like I said, I was too powerful for my coven, one reason being that I know at least the intermediate level spells of every spell type. My magic is extremely flexible so unlike most witches who can only cast spells of one or two spell types, I can bend my magic to cast multiple different types of spells. I’ve also never needed to use chants when casting spells. Anyway, enough about me, you’re a werewolf. I’ve never met any werewolves in person before. Do you have a pack?” She took another bite.

“No, I’m a lone wolf.” I wouldn’t describe myself as a rogue because I wasn’t kicked out of the Lightwood pack and didn’t go around causing trouble for other packs.

She swallowed, smiling, “I guess we’re kinda in the same boat, or at least the same ocean.”

“No, I think we’re in the same boat. My pack abused me so I left after my mate rejected me.” I said then covered my mouth once I realised what I’d said.

‘Natalia!’ Candy yelled.

‘I’m sorry! I don’t know why I told her that, I just feel so… trusting with her.’

“Are you talking to your wolf again? Were you not supposed to tell me that?”

At my surprised look, she went on to explain, “I see auras around people. The colour around their abdomen determines their race. Yours is green, for werewolves. The colour flares up when they do things trademark to their specie, like talk to their wolves or shift in your case. I also hear thoughts when I touch people, like you saw back at the store.”

“I thought there were no hybrids in Supernatural history.”

She laughed, “I heard wolves didn’t really concern themselves with other species besides humans and Vampires so I guess you wouldn’t really bother to find out about Hybrids. If the two parent species are compatible, like witch and psychic in my case, then the dominant gene will prevail and some aspects of the latent gene will be present, like my aura vision and telepathy through touch. If the two parent genes are incompatible, like werewolf and pretty much any other specie except mind-based ones like Psychics and Seers, then it becomes a case of one or the other in their genes. With my aura vision, hybrids just appear as their dominant gene though.”

My hopes of possibly being a Syren as well flew out the window at her explanation. Syrens were obviously not a mind-based specie.

“I guess we didn’t really deal with other species, apart from warring with Vampires, taking our turn in the Seer cycle and the occasional human mate.”

We ate in relative silence after that, both hungry but Kaesha even more so. The spell probably took a bit of energy. Not soon after, we’d finished eating. The moment I dropped my fork back next to my plate, I heard the door to the kitchen open behind me and the now familiar footsteps of the waiter. He soon came into view, holding a tray with a receipt on it. I picked the receipt from the tray and took my wallet out, taking out the due fee plus a tip and placing it on the table as he put our used dishes and silverware on the tray.

“Thanks.” Kaesha and I said.

“Uh, ah, y-you’re w-w-welcome…” he stammered.

When he was done, which took longer than necessary due to his eyes constantly trailing to my face, he took the tray and the money back, nearly stumbling again. Kaesha and I got up and carried our bags, ready to leave.

“You lose.” I smirked at Kaesha as we reached the door.

My smirk soon faded and hers resurfaced as I heard the kitchen door open behind us.

“Wait!”

“Ah, puppy love.” Kaesha whispered

Turning back, we saw the waiter walking carefully towards us with a phone, presumably his, in his hand. He managed to reach us without tripping this time.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and held out his phone to me, “Can I have your number?”

Another crack. The original crack in the dark haired stranger’s mug was longer and had been joined by three more.

I looked at his phone. The dialler was open, numbers, zero to nine, displayed for me to enter my cell number. I looked back at his face. He looked so hopeful and nervous. I could tell that it took a bit of work to come over. Even as he stood there, arm awkwardly outstretched, I picked up on his subtle trembling.

I smiled apologetically, “Sorry, I don’t just give my number out. Maybe if we meet again outside this breakfast bar and things play out well.”

His arm dropped slowly to his side. He laughed awkwardly, red faced, “I guess it would be weird to give your number to a complete stranger. You don’t even know my name.”

I pointed at his chest, to his nametag.

He followed my finger and looked at his nametag, turning redder, “I guess you do…”

I smiled understandingly, “Thanks for understanding. A lot of other guys would have said I was just a bitch playing hard to get.” I gave him something, a compliment, to acknowledge his effort.

He smiled, appreciatively I presumed, “Th-thanks… or… you’re… welcome…?”

I waved and walked out the door after Kaesha, looking back at the dark haired stranger in the far corner.

He was gone.