Weaver

The Mystic's Gallery

                The shop was busy until lunch. Alice found herself running from one side of the shop to the other. She served a group of werewolves that wanted “magic hair removing cream”, trying to explain that she had none. Next a couple of children came in and accidently tipped over one of the bottles on the “storm in a bottle” stand, and she and Gabriel had to spend several minutes running around after the miniature tornado that swept through the shop raising dust in its path. Eventually, sweaty and wind swept, they managed to herd it back into another glass bottle and return it the shelf. By that time the guilty party had fled the scene.

                Altair came in, a box of love potions in one hand, and blinked in surprise at them, “You two trying out a new hair style or something?”

                Exhausted, Alice slumped over the desk and merely pointed at the “storm in a bottle” display.

                “Ah,” Altair began to restock the potions, “gotcha.”

                Maya came in from the backroom with another box and set it down beside Altair. She giggled at Gabriel, whose long blonde hair was a tangled mess.

                “Don’t laugh,” he crossed his arms and pretended to scowl at her, “it was traumatic.”

                Maya turned to Alice, who had her head down on the desk, “I think for lunch we should grab something from the café and head over to the art gallery across the street. Art is relaxing, right?”

                Alice sat up with a groan, “right. I could use some boring old art. But let’s go to the bakery instead of the café, I don’t fancy running into what’s-her-face again.”

                “What is her face?” Altair asked, “I mean, who’s that?”

                They told the boys about meeting Abby in the café, and how she had said she was a “fan” of Alice.

                “She sounds like a head case,” Altair nudged Alice and grinned, “you always attract the best kind of people, babe.”

                “Like you?” she shot back.

                “Owch,” Altair went back to his box of potions, “you two go ahead and get lunch.”

                Alice followed Maya to the door. Gabriel called after them, “bring back some muffins.”

                “Okay,” the bell over the door tinkled, and then it was cut off by the door shutting behind them.

                The bakery was a delightful little store just a block down from them. The front window was enough to make her drool, and they hadn’t even gone in yet. It held baked goods displayed in pans. Every kind imaginable. Donuts of ever sort, beautifully frosted cupcakes, rich looking chocolate cakes and massive muffins.

                Maya pushed through the door first. They were hit by the scent as soon as they walked in, a wall of tantalizing smells. Baking bread and apple strudel, cinnamon and nutmeg. Alice’s stomach growled in an embarrassingly loud fashion. The woman behind the counter looked up with a cheerful smile,

                “Welcome to Hey Presto! What can I get you?”

                “Oh, um…” Alice scanned the glass cases in front of them. There was so much to choose from, “Uh, well I’ll start off with six muffins, maybe chocolate chip…”