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Coffee is magic in its own right, the manipulation of biochemistry – in a good way, of course. But actual magic is much more addictive than caffeine – for John Segundus, at least – and developing little spells is a great distraction from the routine of a long shift.
Some like their coffee sweet but are sceptical about sugar, so Segundus comes up with his own artificial sweetener; some want just a trace of an aroma that doesn't actually exist, so he summons a spoonful of a fairy fruit juice; some are particular about their decaf, so he tries out different ways to break and rearrange the alchemical base of caffeine. He never makes mistakes in clients' names because he's forgone a marker pen for a calligraphy spell a long time ago, and there's a dozen variations of an incantation that keeps drinks warm for as long as you want.
Yes, he doesn't dare to call himself a real magician, but the shop is quite enough now, and he loves his job in large measure because it's interwoven with a hobby that is more important to him than everything.
There's also one more thing: a regular who comes twice a day (flat white, double, no sugar but a drop of syrup at the barista's discretion), and it's he who inspires the most audacious of Segundus's experiments – which, as experiments do, sometimes fail. (Like that one time he was so distracted the calligraphy spell almost wrote his phone number instead of Childermass, and he had to get a new cup.)
This Childermass is an... interesting person. He has a wild air about him, a certain ambiguity that makes Segundus's heart melt and his thoughts go all poetic. He's also Segundus's namesake (a fact that was presented for no apparent reason and with an intonation that he couldn't place and which meaning he still doesn't fully understand) and wears dark clothes of the sort that is usually worn by angsty teens, but he somehow makes it work without looking like someone who got stuck in adolescence.
The man dabbles in magic too, and they have discussed it many times since Segundus first noticed it. Among Childermass's spells, there's one that makes his cigarettes never smell of tobacco. Instead, it's a peculiar mix of old books and heather. It brings shadows of memories Segundus never had, and, less poetically, doesn't trigger his allergies.
"It's very courteous of you," Segundus once comments on that when they make small talk outside the shop on a dog day afternoon, and his favourite customer takes the cigarette away from his lips and spreads them into a lopsided and mysteriously meaningful smile.
Segundus blushes so bad that every single ice cube in the shop immediately melts, and then he has to spend several minutes frantically freezing them back with an especially intricate spell while the queue complains about how long it suddenly takes to prepare an ice coffee in such hot weather.
Next week, it's raining non-stop, which means that the floor needs mopping every other minute.
When he's finally done with the last cleaning of the day, Segundus stretches his back, checks the lights in the backroom, closes all windows and sighs.
He's exhausted, and not only because the shift was especially hard today. He spent all of it waiting for Childermass, but for some reason, he never came.
No need to worry, Segundus tells himself, he's probably just busy. It's not like he would be in danger all of a sudden.
Nonetheless, when he walks out and locks the door, his mind is busy going through dangers that are possible to get into in this day and age. Unsurprisingly, he almost jumps out of his body when he turns and sees a familiar figure leaning against the wall.
"I'm sorry to have startled you," Childermass says, and his wry but charming smile leaves Segundus no opportunity to reject the apology.
He mumbles something almost unintelligible, yet extremely polite in response, and looks up at the dark clouds.
"Do you by any chance have an umbrella with you?" he asks pathetically. "I forgot mine at home."
Childermass, by the way, looks suspiciously dry.
"I have something better," he shrugs and takes off his black denim jacket, immediately revealing its secret.
"Oh, what a nice waterproof spell," Segundus exclaims. "But I can't rob you of it. You'll soak to the bone."
"It's fine, as long as I have good company."
Segundus hesitates for a couple of seconds and decides to accept the offer, with, of course, a round of thanks. He pretends he doesn't know that his cheeks are now bright red and manoeuvres the conversation towards magic.
They walk and talk. Childermass eagerly explains how the spell works, and Segundus makes a dozen little mental notes to try out in the future.
"You didn't come today," he asks later. "I don't want to intrude, but..."
"I'm sorry for that," Childermass replies (although Segundus doesn't hold it against him in any way) and grunts. "My bike broke."
Of course he has a motorcycle.
"And I could really use some caffeine," he adds. "Pity I didn't manage it before closing time."
"Oh," Segundus says and procures a hard candy from one of his pockets. "I always have them on me in case my sugar drops," he explains. "Let me try something."
He concentrates and improvises, infusing it with the atmosphere of a usual day in the coffee shop.
"It's the best I can do," he says eventually.
Childermass takes the candy and assesses his reaction.
"Rather effective," he nods. "Brilliant, I'd say."
"Thank you," Segundus blushes again.
The rain doesn't even consider stopping. There's a stroke of lightning, very close, and the thunder, as expected, follows almost immediately. Segundus marvels for a moment how well Childermass belongs in this weather. He doesn't need the magic of the jacket, with his wet black hair sticking to his forehead and neck, and a strange glimmer in his eyes, like a reflection of another lightning that hasn't struck yet.
Segundus is sure that if his own hair got wet, he would look silly.
But the enchantment on the jacket works perfectly and prevents the embarrassment, so he expresses his gratitude again.
That smile is there once more, like a universal ironic answer to everything – and inevitably flusters Segundus.
They walk in silence for a while until Segundus stops dead in his tracks.
"Are we going somewhere in particular?"
"Do you have anything in mind?" Childermass raises his brow.
The stroll brought them to the steps of the Cathedral, and it's dark enough for the streetlights to be on. The wet pavement reflects them in a strange, almost hypnotising way.
"Not really," Segundus says. "But you are dripping wet without the jacket. I'm already feeling guilty."
"Don't be. I won't get a cold, I can guarantee it."
"Also a spell?"
And then they are back in their element, in a next turn of the discussion. All the while, Segundus reluctantly leads them in the direction of his home, even though he can walk all night, no matter how tired he is. It doesn't take long to arrive there.
The rain is over by that time, and the clouds dissipated enough already for the moon to shine through. It's all very romantic.
Segundus feels awkward, so he mutters another thank you for the jacket and one more for the walk.
Childermass puts the jacket back on and his hair immediately begins to dry up.
"We should do it again, don't you think?" Segundus blurts out and starts panicking a little.
But thankfully, this idea is met with enthusiasm.
"Aye," Childermass says warmly. "I hope I'll be able to come tomorrow."
This and a nod is, apparently, a fully-fledged goodbye, because he simply leaves, and Segundus rushes inside, where he spends a minute deciding whether he should hyperventilate or grin until his cheeks hurt.
Instead of the usual eleven letters on the cup, there are only four today.
"I wasted three cups but couldn't make the spell work properly," Segundus complains apologetically. "It's so stubborn."
"Well, after all, my name is John," Childermass smiles, more ironically this time. "So don't worry."
(It takes an effort, but Segundus does stop worrying.)
After the shift, Segundus gets startled again, even though he anticipated this moment the whole day.
"Hello again. If you don't mind," Childermass says nonchalantly, peeling himself off the wall, "I suggest we call it a date."
Segundus makes a weird noise and fights the urge to go back inside and splash cold water all over his face.
"I don't," he says quickly. "I don't mind it at all."