Chapter 2, part 1 - Echoes of Delphinium
She tapped her nails on the crooked wooden table, eyes fixed on the world bustling outside. The sun pooled over the tinted glass, creating a spotlight for the plate set down by a waiter. One with a familiarly happy face that she turned to greet as he approached.
A face she had known for three years, now– One that had been a catalyst in her decision to leave the house she once called home. That was the right decision, seeing as her family had scurried as far away from town as possible after finding out about her
peculiarity.
“One buttered croissant,” the waiter placed the plate before her, alongside a steaming coffee cup, “--and one coffee.”
“Black?” She asked, quirking a brow and raising the coffee to her lips.
“As requested, though, you know you can try something new occasionally, don’t you?” He sidestepped to sit across from her in the booth, pushing aside the briefcase she had placed on his seat.
Alastair. Mr. Zepheros’ son– A boy who found it particularly amusing to tease her for her taste in coffee almost every time she ordered it. She had counted twenty-six times since the first day they met, including his recent attempt at humor. He was sickeningly sweet nonetheless, and she found it impossible to hold it against him.
His golden hair tumbled over his forehead in a messy array of bangs, and his honey-colored eyes darted around, unable to settle. His jawline was slightly soft, in a feminine nature, but his nose was sharp.
“If I wanted a change, I’d find it,” she blew on the coffee before sipping it carefully, enjoying the bitter taste coating her tongue. After a moment of closing her eyes to enjoy the beverage truly, she opened them to find a worried look on the angelic-looking boy’s face. Her hands placed the drink on the table once more. “Has the paper arrived yet?”
“As it is every morning,” he stood from his seat and pushed the plate holding the croissant closer to Constance. “Eat. I’ll grab the paper for you.”
“Hm,” she looked down at the croissant and quickly pulled it apart to shove a bite into her mouth.
Mr. Zepheros knew of the mishap with her family. He knew more about her than she knew about herself, and every day she returned to the bakery, always at the same time, to retrieve the same order. It provided the tiniest bit of consistency in her whirlwind of craziness.
“What’ll it be this time, detective?” Alastair beamed, placing the paper on the table before her and retaking his seat. “Werewolf? Vampire, maybe?”
“You know full well I’ve never faced anything like that,” she gulped down her bite of croissant and pulled the paper toward her, examining the typed words that littered the page. “Worst I’ve faced is the fae.”
“Aren’t you not supposed to say that aloud?” Alastair’s voice lowered, along with his posture.
“Faced em’ once. Wouldn’t hurt to go again,” Constance bit into her croissant again and scanned the page. Her finger trailed over the newspaper’s print, landing on a title in the lower left corner of the first page. “Ever heard of this?”
Prestigious, or Egregious; Fowther Academy
The townsfolk are buzzing with curiosity toward the supposedly outstanding educational services of Fowther Academy– And the very little information on its history. Many folk claim they’ve never met a soul who attended Fowther, while others claim they believe it to have been inhabited by the spirits of previous students. What a dark theory!
“Ever heard of Fowther?” Constance questioned, placing her half-eaten croissant back onto her plate and spinning the newspaper to face him while her hands raised her coffee cup to her lips again.
“Not so sure I have,” she slid the paper toward him, observing his vacant look. Constance adored Alastair’s company most times, as she could speak endlessly, and it’d go through one ear and out of the other. “What’re you thinking?”
“Wad of nothing, that’s what I’m thinking. People get so worked up over nothing,” she sipped the coffee and shook her head. “Another stuck-up school for the one percent.”
“Huh,” Alastair scratched his head. “I guess so.”
Constance raised her wrist, gaze flicking to her watch. At the sight of the time, she scarfed down the last of her croissant and cursed with her mouth full.
“No need to rush; I’m sure whatever you’re late for can wait–” Alastair leaned back, surprised at her swift movements.
She gulped down the last of her coffee and exhaled. “Unfortunately, it cannot– I have a client to meet in five.”
“Another client?” Alastair groaned, lowering his hand to fiddle with the cross necklace over his chest. “You’re working yourself to the bone; you know that?”
“It’s the best I’ve got. You know that.” She stood, hands rummaging through her pockets in search of payment.
“I got it,” he stood, touching her shoulder. “Just do me a favor and get some sleep tonight. Your eyebags are as dark as your coffee.”
Constance smiled widely and lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. “Thanks, Angel,” she dropped her hand and sidestepped to grab her briefcase off his seat. “I’ll try my best.”
“No trying– Do it!” Alastair howled after her, smiling madly and adjusting the hair she had effortlessly tossed about.