Writing Ramblings:
Not sure if I’m going to do anything with this or not. But it’s a fun idea and I liked playing with it.
Working the morning after a full moon always meant the dinner was busy.
We’d open early and have the room ready before dawn for those early groups. They’re almost always wearing worn and scruffy clothes after spending the night outside. Men would have the scruff of hair not shaved yet, and there would always be a few people who had leaves or branches still stuck in their hair.
They also always ordered a spread.
Everything you could think of. Eggs. Pancakes. Waffles. Bacon. Sausage. Hash browns. Fruit. French Toast. Omelets. Toast. Oatmeal. Biscuits.
Honestly, just about anything you could think of, they would order. Until there was no room left on the table tops. Everything would be covered in plates and cups. Really, sometimes I’m not sure how they found their silverware.
Yep, but that was werewolves for you.
Or just shifters in general.
According to the scientists, weres and shifters had to use so much energy to shift from human to animal and back, they were ravenous when the shift was completed. That was why untrained ones would sometimes go on killing sprees when they shifted on a full moon.
Thankfully, people understood that now, and we had reserves newly turned shifters could spend their full moons on.
Which was probably why I hadn’t seen one of the shifters here before. He was small, a petite little thing with warm brown skin and the ragged but excited look that I’d come to recognize as the look of a shifter after a full moon. His t-shirt was snagged a few places, probably by the plants in the woods.
“They’re in the back room,” I nodded to the far little area where about 15 other shifters were already chowing down on food. “What can I get you to drink?”
He blinked, looking back over at the pack, then at me, “Coffee?”
I raised an eyebrow at him before shaking my head, “How about you start with juice? Caffeine doesn’t seem to help in my experience.”
“Oh,” He nodded, still a little dazed. I’d heard the shift could be disorienting. “Got cranberry?”
“Sure do, I’ll get you a glass. Go on over and help yourself. I’ll bring a plate and some silverware out with your drink.”
“Thanks,” He gave me a little smile before disappearing with the others who’d beat him to the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I worked at. You know, one of those that every town has, with the best insert-food-here in town, but only the locals know about it.
A few of the older pack members smacked the young guy’s back, pulling up another chair as they all loaded up food on their plates. To the average person, you’d think they’d end up getting sick with all they were eating. It was fascinating and disgusting to watch them put so much food away at the same time.
But they were always good and always left the best tips.
Most of them also knew that the shop was a safe place for them. We didn’t squeal on our customers and we treated them right. They were safe here. So most would come back during the rest of the month. A few of the older guys came in every morning for some coffee and to shoot the shit or read the paper. Those who worked would stop by some days to pick up lunch between meetings or for the office. Others would bring their family for dinner, letting the little kids run around in the back room.
No one would judge them here. It was just a good, old fashioned family restaurant that everyone was welcome in.
I placed a glass of cranberry juice before the new boy, refilling waters as I went before producing three more napkins for one of the guys who was definitely going to need them.
I liked working with the shifters. They kept me busy, but also weren’t a fuss as long as they had food. About an hour later, most were finishing up checks if they weren’t already heading out the door.
The new boy was watching me while I wiped down tables.
“How’d you know I was looking for this group?” He finally asked what he’d clearly been wondering for some time.
“She’s a witch, our Vina.” One of the regulars grinned at me, making me laugh.
“You look like the rest of them,” I explained, nodding to the boy’s messy hair. “You all usually are a little disheveled, look like you just ran two marathons, but also like you just had the best night of your life and want to go again.”
“Oh, I guess,” he laughed a little, looking down at where his t-shirt was torn.
“And she’s a witch,” my regular repeated again with a grin.
“Right, don’t let me catch you misbehaving in my restaurant.” I wiggled my fingers playfully, before laughing as I went back to work. “Say hi to Margie for me, Don, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”
“Will do,” my regular nodded, heading out.
The new boy continued to watch me as I worked, finishing up his juice. He lingered until the last left, although that was fairly normal. They’d leave in smaller groups to not draw too much attention to themselves.
“Does he know that you’re actually a witch?” His voice was the only one in the shop, startling me to where I almost dropped the plates I was stacking. My eyes trained on him, looking him up and down.
“Why do you think it’s not a joke?”
He gave a one shouldered shrug, “I can just tell? You feel different from the humans.”
I pursed my lips, watching him. “How so?”
He was quiet for a moment, as if trying to figure out what was so different about me. “You smell different. Humans smell like… humans? You smell like…” he took a deep breath, “Like freshly turned earth and underbrush in the woods and the wind moving through trees.”
“That’s awfully poetic,” I chuckled a bit, stacking up the other dishes.
“That’s as close as I can get to guessing.”
“Can you tell what others are besides me?”
“I guess? I’ve never tried. Why?”
I watched the boy for a moment before shrugging, “Give me a second.” I grabbed my tray, taking things back to the kitchen before snagging my bag on the way back.
“Try this?” I offered him a sweater from the cook.
“What?”
“Smell it and see if you can figure out what the person who wears this is.”
“Is this some sort of test?”
“I’m curious about something. Humor me.”
He looks at me for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and inhaling. “Human, but I can also smell a little bit of something else. Sort of like a shifter, but not the ones I’ve encountered.”
“His girlfriend is a shifter.” I offered him an apron from the back. “This one?”
He raised an eyebrow, inhaling again. “Smells like water, something aquatic?”
I nodded again before pulling out a plastic bag with a shred of fabric in it. “This?”
He opened the bag, immediately wrinkling his nose. “Smells like something died in there.”
“Anything else?”
He frowned at me, carefully putting his nose closer. “Death and, fresh flowers? Like gardenias maybe?”
“Gardenias? You know your flowers?”
“My family owned a florist shop, so yeah, I do.” He offered the bag back to me, “Alright, now do I get to know why you were giving me this little test?”
I smirked, holding up the sweater, “Our cook is human, but like I said, his girlfriend his a shifter.” I held up the apron, “Siren.” Lastly, I shook the little plastic bag. “Evidence from a murder. We’ve been trying to figure out whatever we can from it, but have been hitting dead ends. Practically no DNA on it, and besides, supernatural DNA doesn’t always work the same as humans, so it’s not reliable. But you said gardenias, which helps.”
“Helps find the killer?”
“Yep,” I grinned at him. “You looking for a job?”
His look of confusion made me laugh and I interrupted him before he could ask.
“Yes, I’m a hedgewitch. But no, I figured that you’re new here, so it’s probably your first moon since leaving the reservation. And you probably lost your job when you told them you’d have to take an extended leave of absence?”
“How’d you know?”
“Happens a lot to shifters when they get turned. It’s illegal to fire someone because they’re a shifter, but they can fire them for not showing up to work.”
“Yeah,” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I was an accountant.”
“Oh? Well we don’t have a numbers guy yet.”
“We?”
“Me and a few others. We specialize in helping with cases dealing with the supernatural. Since the police are still usually over their heads. You’ve got a keener sense of smell than most shifters. We might be able to use someone like you on our team.”
“What would I be doing?”
“Honestly?” I chuckled a bit, “We never know. But you need a job, and at least right now, we can use your skills. It could be on a trial basis.”
He paused, weighing back and forth in his mind before nodding. “Couldn’t hurt.”
“That’s the spirit,” I offered my hand with a chuckle. “Welcome to the team. I’m Vina.”
“Cal,” he grinned, shaking my hand.
“Welcome to the team.”
