text: Author's Note: strong language warning. "There are ports in the universe. Places where your realm connects with other realms. Think of the universe as a long subway tunnel. Each port is like a subway exit. Celest's Cafe is just one of those ports." The barista nods her head, as if satisfied with her own explanation. She goes back to washing and drying coffee cups; She pulls them from under the counter, and Ghost can hear the cups clinking together, so she assumes there must be a dishpan under the counter. 'Ordinarily,' Ghost thinks, 'I'd say this bitch is on something, or she's fucking with me, maybe both. But I know this block well, and yesterday, this was an abandoned lot. A parking lot with more cracks than old lady Miller's face, and weeds taking over. So this morning, when I motored past and saw a fucking coffee shop, with people coming in and out, seeking their early dawn caffeine fix, I had to find out what was up with this place.' Ghost eyes the barista, who continues to ignore her, a slight smile on as she washes cups. The barista is tall, blond, and blue-eyed, ' she looks like she should be on a magazine cover instead of ruining her nails in that soapy water.' 'There's something off...I can't figure out what it is.' Ghost thinks. 'It's her eyes...They are such a dark blue they're nearly purple. It's more than that...her features are sorta...catlike. So much so, that I keep expecting to see a tail flickering up behind her'. Ghost thinks. The barista chuckles...then clears her throat. Ghost narrows her eyes at her, wondering what was funny. The woman is still busy with the coffee cups, her eyes on the water. Ghost takes a sip of the coffee and spins around on the leather bar stool to look around the coffee bar and at the other patrons. She pauses and rolls the coffee around on her tongue. It's strong and has just the right amount of sweetness. 'Which is odd,' Ghost thinks, 'because...' "Hey, I never ordered this!" Ghost says as she spins back around to face the Barista. There are frown lines between Ghost's eyes, her nose is wrinkled up, and her upper lip curls, like her features, are all scrunching together to meet in the middle of her face. This time, the Barista meets her gaze, smiling fully. 'Her teeth are perfect,' Ghost thinks. 'And...fucking long! What the hell?' Ghost wonders, but she shakes her head and tucks that information away in her brain for later. "I never ordered this..." Ghost stammers. "I've been doing this a long time, I'm good at reading people." 'Okay." So many questions crowd up into Ghost's mind, she's silent and overwhelmed, not knowing which one to ask first. Ghost takes another sip. Best coffee ever. "Are you Celeste?" 'What?' Ghost thinks. 'That's the most important question I should be asking here?! What is happening...' "Nope. I'm Iris. Celeste is my cousin. She doesn't come in often." "Often? How long has this place been around? Because it wasn't here yesterday." "I told you, it's a port." The barista...Iris...sighs like this should explain everything, and Ghost is a dummy. Ghost stares at her for the space of a couple of heartbeats. "Okay...but why..?" "Finish your coffee, Erika. You have an appointment." Ghost's eyes widen, and her jaw goes slack. "I..I didn't tell you my name...and what appointment?!" “I have another customer I need to talk to. It’ll make sense at the right time, don’t worry about it. Finish your coffee.” Iris rounds the counter, notepad out, and heads for a booth in the front corner, near the door. Ghost turns her head to watch her go over and talk to a tall, Italian-looking woman. The woman has a little girl with her, the girl is cute, blonde, and blue-eyed. She has Down syndrome, which gives her an aura of sweetness and innocence. The little girl's blue eyes meet Ghost’s blue eyes, and the little girl smiles. Ghost rarely smiles, but she can’t help smiling back at her. It’s a bittersweet moment for Ghost. She is reminded of another blue-eyed child, this one with black braids instead of blond ones. It was a lifetime ago. Ghost buries the memory as she turns back to finish her coffee. This place is unsettling, and it makes her remember things she would rather forget. The coffee is still hot. From the booth at the front corner of the café, Ze’Eva watches the blond barista approach. “Good morning. A hot chocolate for her,” Zee indicates the little girl. “A coffee in a to-go cup for me, thanks.” “Sure. I love your accent! It sounds Italian, I’m learning Italian, it’s a lovely language.” “Thank you.” Zee doesn’t look at her as she says this, she is looking around the café, studying each patron in turn before turning her sharp emerald gaze to the next. She doesn’t linger on any of them, except for the one at the counter up front. The person has their back to the door, wearing a black sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled up. The sweatshirt is bulky, and the person is wearing black sweatpants, also bulky and shapeless, effectively hiding any clues if this is a male or a female. “Magen, stay here a moment, please.” Zee watches the barista make her coffee first and set it on the counter with a Z written on it, and then the barista starts making Magen’s hot chocolate. Zee gets up in that instant and skirts the tables with a speed and surety that makes a few of the other customers look up startled. She ignores their curious gazes, and deliberately bumps the counter next to the person in black, making it look like she tripped, she slaps the counter loudly. On cue, the person jumps and whips their head in her direction. ‘Oh. A teenager.’ Zee thinks, the thrill of the fight response fades, disappointing Zee. “Sorry I startled you, kid.” Zee purses her lips as she goes to the other side of the young woman and grabs her coffee. Something is poking into the back of her mind, like an irritating mosquito. ‘Something about the girl’s face,’ Zee ponders it. She looks at her out of the corner of her eye. The girl is drinking her coffee again, her profile turned toward Zee. Her skin is perfect. Too perfect. Zee quickly sticks out a finger and before the girl can react, Zee swipes her finger down the side of the young woman’s face. Makeup comes off on Zee’s finger. She rubs it between her thumb and forefinger, frowning. ‘Thick,’ Zee thinks. “Grease paint?” Zee says out loud, without intending to speak. ***************************** Author's note: here's a hint to what's going on...look up Iris in Greek mythology. Also, Ghost is the main character in the book I'm writing. Zee is the main character in another book I wrote.