Free Web NovelChapter 273: [4.91] Concerning
Patterson circulated through the cafe like a proud father at a wedding reception, his cape trailing behind him and his fangs gleaming whenever he smiled, which was often. He stopped at each table to ask how the experience was, recommended specific drinks with the enthusiasm of a sommelier, and at one point physically blocked a student from leaving without trying the Witch’s Brew because the colour change was "a triumph of culinary engineering."
"We’re pulling ahead," he told me during a brief stop at the espresso station, his eyes wild with a competitive fire that I found deeply concerning in a man his age. "3-C’s haunted house had a malfunction with their smoke machine and two kids came out coughing. We’re golden."
"That’s a health and safety issue, not a competitive advantage."
"It’s both, Angelo. It’s both." He swept away, cape billowing, to accost another group of potential customers in the hallway.
Felix worked the room as a waiter, his Dracula costume proving surprisingly effective at entertaining customers despite the lisp that turned every sentence into an unintentional comedy routine. He delivered drinks with flourish, bowed at every table, and somehow convinced an entire group of sophomore girls that he was a visiting exchange student from Transylvania named Count Beaumont. They believed him for a solid twelve minutes before someone pulled up his actual Instagram.
The afternoon rush brought a different kind of chaos. More parents arrived, more cameras appeared, and the line at the espresso station doubled. I worked faster, pulling shots in rapid succession while keeping the steam wand at the right angle to avoid spraying anyone.
The muscle memory from the Velvet Room saved me because my conscious brain was too occupied tracking four different girls with identical faces across a room filled with fog and purple light.
Vivienne circulated between the entrance and the cafe floor, making adjustments to table spacing and flower arrangements that nobody else would notice but that somehow improved the overall atmosphere.
She passed behind my station at one point and her fingers brushed the small of my back, just above where the tailcoat split, the contact lasting maybe half a second. My hand jerked and the portafilter knocked against the machine with a sharp metallic clang.
"Watch the equipment," she murmured without stopping, her heels clicking a steady rhythm against the gymnasium floor as she continued toward table five.
Sabrina’s fortune-telling booth became the cafe’s unexpected draw. A line formed at her corner table that rivalled the espresso queue, students and parents waiting for their turn to sit across from a girl in a gothic librarian costume who examined their faces with those devastating purple eyes and told them things about themselves that they had never shared with anyone.
She did not use the tarot cards. She barely spoke at all. She just looked, and waited, and then said one sentence that made each person go very still and very quiet before thanking her and walking away looking like they needed to sit down.
"What are you telling them?" I asked during a gap between customers.
"The truth." Sabrina adjusted her crystal ball, the light catching the glass and scattering prismatic reflections across her cheekbones. "Most people already know what they need to hear. They just need someone to say it out loud."
"That’s either profound or terrifying."
"Both." She held my gaze for a beat too long. "Come sit in my chair. Let me tell your fortune."
"Hard pass."
"Afraid of what I’ll see?"
"Afraid you already saw it three weeks ago and have been using the information strategically ever since."
The corner of her mouth lifted. Not quite a smile. More like the shadow of one, the kind of expression that cost me sleep and sent my pulse into territory usually reserved for running from large animals. She picked up The Lovers card from the tablecloth and tucked it into the pocket of her blouse, right over her heart. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
"Smart boy," she said, and turned to greet her next customer.
At two o’clock, Marin declared a shift change and half the crew rotated to their break period. I stepped away from the espresso machine for the first time in three hours, and the sudden absence of steam and noise made my ears ring. My shirt was damp under the costume layers, and the cape felt like it weighed twenty pounds.
I found an empty chair near the dessert station and collapsed into it with the gracelessness of a man who had been standing for four hours on three espresso shots and zero actual food. freёwebnovel.com
Iris materialised beside me within seconds, pressing a sugar cookie shaped like a coffin into my hand. "Eat. You look like you’re going to pass out."
"I’m fine."
"You’ve said that eleven times today. I’ve been counting." She stood over me with her arms crossed, her maid apron dusted with powdered sugar and a streak of red icing on her cheek. "Also, Sarah wants you to know that she has sold forty-seven desserts and wants a raise."
"She’s not getting paid."
"She said you’d say that. She also said to tell you that Cassidy has been staring at you for the last twenty minutes without blinking, which Sarah finds romantic and I find concerning."
I glanced across the room. Cassidy leaned against the wall near the coffin archway, a paper cup in her hand, her purple eyes locked directly on me with the intensity of someone tracking a target through a scope. When she realised I had caught her looking, she did not glance away or pretend she had been examining the ceiling. She held my gaze, brought her cup to her lips, and drank without breaking eye contact.
The battle maid skirt hung high on her thighs, and she had unzipped the front of her costume just enough to reveal the line of her collarbone and the shadow beneath it. She was doing all of this on purpose and she wanted me to know she was doing it on purpose.
I bit into the cookie.
"See?" Iris sounded satisfied. "Concerning."
