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Elliot stood in front of a house. It was like any other house in the Central District, built sometime before World War II on a street that was never intended for that many cars. She fiddled with her phone, watching the messages like a hawk.
Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected. Maybe something more… dangerous? More sinister. This was a cult, right? Why didn’t they have a cave? Or like, a stone dungeon somewhere.
Her phone vibrated. “Hey, I’m inside. Go down the path on the side of the house to the door for the basement apartment.”
“You’ve seen the Goodfellas, right?”
“What, how old are you, grandpa?”
“It’s on cable all the time.” Elliot looked for the path that went next to the house and down behind it. “You’re going to shoot me.”
“Nah.”
The path led to a little patio, and a door flanked by two forgettable plastic chairs.
“So do I knock or” Elliot texted.
“Just open the door.”
Elliot pushed the door open. Inside was an apartment, but the apartment had been turned into a coffee shop. Elliot entered into a small foyer, through which she could see a modest living room, lined with tables and chairs, lit by candles and a string of lights that ran around the ceiling. Elliot started into the shop, and spotted another room, probably an old bedroom, again lined with tables and chairs, and an old couch. She looked around, taking in the shop.
Elliot suddenly realized, all joking aside, she was in someone’s basement, and no one would know where she was. And the only person that may have cared was skulking around the same basement somewhere.
Someone stuck their head out from the kitchen. “Hello,” they said. He was lion… maybe, his fur a weak honey, or maybe a solid egg yolk. He had headfur that pushed past his chin, almost hiding a collar around his neck, and a pair of glasses on his broad muzzle.
“I’m here to meet someone?” Elliot said, shifting her weight towards the door.
“You must be Elliot,” the man said.
Elliot nodded. She still wasn’t comfortable with this whole everyone knowing her name thing.
The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Arie. Welcome to Cassie’s.”
“Thanks,” Elliot said, shaking Arie’s hand. “I don’t know where I am right now.”
“I’m sure Z would like to explain,” Arie said. He motioned to follow him, and Elliot tagged along, looking over her shoulder just in case.
Zerina — or Z now, Elliot guessed — stood at a counter with another woman. She was human, black, wearing a sun dress, covered by an apron to keep the collateral damage of baking off of her. A timer went off, and Z checked the oven before removing a cake. She set it among half a dozen others, and the human set upon the cake with a fresh bowl of frosting.
“Oh,” the human said. “Hey. One of yours?” She looked at Z.
Z spun around and nearly tackled Elliot. “You came!”
“We were literally just texting,” Elliot croaked. She pushed Z off of her.
“This is Elliot, huh?” The human put her hands on her hips and looked her up and down. “Does she know?”
“She’s going to learn,” Z said. “This is Cassie, by the way. She owns this place.”
“Hi,” Elliot said.
“Welcome,” Cassie said.
“Is this… Is this legal?”
“Nope,” Z said. “So you shut your mouth about it.”
Elliot help up her hands. “Just curious.”
“We serve a need in our community, and a few others,” Cassie said. “We open late and close after sunrise. Sometimes our clientele just want to hang out, and sometimes they have nowhere to go.”
“That’s awfully nice,” Elliot said softly.
Cassie shooed them out of her kitchen. “You have a lot to tell Elliot about, and I need to finish these cakes, so get out.”
Z laughed and motioned for Elliot to follow her. They sat at a table in the corner, looking out over the shop. Arie brought them both coffee.
“Thanks,” Elliot said.
“Makes the world go round,” Arie said, and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Z stirred cream into her coffee. “I expect that you have questions.”
“You can’t just tell me? We’re going to sit here and play magic eight ball?”
“Seems likely,” Z said. She took a sip of her coffee. “Let’s start at the beginning…”
Elliot looked down at her coffee. She used to drink it loaded with sugar and milk, but since college she had weened herself away from that, learning to appreciate the distinct flavors of different kinds of coffee. From the taste of this, Cassie wasn’t messing around.
“What do you mean by Out of Town?” Elliot asked.
Z nodded, as if she was checking off items on a list. “That you’re one of us. That’s a little code, right?”
“Because no one in Seattle is from here.”
Z pointed at Elliot. “You clever cactus.”
“But what does it mean?”
“You tell me.” Z took a sip of her coffee and looked across the room. On the wall were hundreds of sticky notes, all with little messages written on them. Elliot set her coffee down and crossed the room to the wall. The notes said things like, “one cup of coffee,” “a piece of cake for someone having a shitty day,” “a latte for an awesome trans person (go ahead and get the oat milk, you deserve it).”
“People buy those,” Z said. “Put them up on the wall for those who need them.”
“Have you ever used one?” Elliot asked. She approached the table again, slower, processing this new information.
“Once or twice,” Z said with a shrug. “But I’m lucky that I’ve been able to contribute so many more.”
“Who comes here?” Elliot asked. She sat down, looking Z right in the eyes.
“People like us,” Z said. “The queers and the weirdos, the cast offs and adventurers. And sometimes people who aren’t even from Out of Town, but know people who are.”
Elliot looked down at her coffee again, as if she was waiting for answers. The coffee didn’t answer, it was coffee. It didn’t know anything, and Elliot scowled at it a little.
“So I’ve been able to do this trick all of my life, since I could remember. I can, like, disappear. Not actually disappear, but people stop seeing me. They don’t process that I’m there? And, like, I think deep down they know I’m there, because they’ve never sat on me or run into me. They just… don’t really see me.”
“It’s a neat trick,” Z said.
“But you can,” Elliot said, anger steeping into her voice. “Twenty years of practice and you saw me every single time. How did you see me?”
“Because I knew what to look for,” Z said. “Because I wanted to see you.”
“What can you do?” Elliot asked. “What did you figure out when you were a kid that you knew you shouldn’t show anyone?”
Z smiled. “I could make my dolls walk around on their own.”
“Wow, that’s horrifying.”
“You bet!” Z said. “Yeah, I didn’t really show that one off. But I knew something was going on then. I would challenge myself to do stuff, too. And I thought I was alone until I met Ty in college.”
Elliot nodded. “I don’t… I don’t have a word for what I think we are.”
“That’s so not true,” Z said. “Because I know you met Gimble last night. I know what you saw.”
“Okay, I don’t have a word that doesn’t sound absolutely ridiculous.”
“It’s a little weird, isn’t it?” Z said. “But I want to hear it from you.”
“Gimble… is a witch,” Elliot said. “And so are you.”
“And you are too,” Z said. She beamed. “You did it!”
“And Cassie is too?”
Z nodded.
“And Arie? Is he a boy witch?”
“Arie is a well wisher and all around good boy, but he is not, in the capitalized sense, from Out of Town.”
Elliot sat back in her chair. “I really don’t know what to say to this.”
“Join our group,” Z said. “Hang out with us. We’ll help you find a new job and a place to live and… oh! Want to be roomies? I have space.”
“Hard pass,” Elliot said. She looked up at Z, who watched her with such positive energy. Elliot felt like she was being unfair. “Why are you so eager to help me?”
“We’ve all been there,” Z said. “We’ve all been alone and scared, terrified of what will happen if the world finds out. You’re safe with us. We can help you learn how to control your magic-”
Elliot let out a laugh, and then had the decency to look like she felt bad about it.
“We help each other.”
Elliot nodded. “I need to figure all of this out.”
“Understandable,” Z said. “But I do hope you join us. You’ll fit right in.”
“God, you are a cult.”
Z beamed.
Arie came in from the kitchen, carrying two slices of red and white cake. “Cassie just finished this one. Red velvet with raspberry filling.” He set the plates down in front of them, and then looked at Elliot.
“So, do you know yet?”
Elliot nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“It is,” Arie said. “But I know this group, and they’re the best. They’ll take care of you.”
Elliot nodded again. She was running out of words fast. She let the thought drift to the back of her mind, and in the meantime, she had cake.
[g]