Willow & Ink: The One it Sent For

Chapter 1

     There. Ellie thought as she hung the pink hiring flier in the bookstore window. The café had passed its final inspections last week and was officially ready to run. Now she just needed a barista.

     “Ugh. The ringing is still singing in my ears.” Arch’s voice whined, and Ellie imagined his face twisting in theatrical annoyance.

     “Where are your ears?” Ellie asked, stepping back into the shop.

     She still had administrative work to finish. She’d been digitizing an organizational system for every book currently stocked — a long, exhausting process, like most things involved in getting the store ready to open. The muttered conversations between the books were something she was still adjusting to, but they kept her company nonetheless.

     As Ellie added barcodes, Pip repeatedly ran off with selected volumes, building a small den out of his hoard. She’d gone down the street to the pet shop and returned with a book-shaped squeaky toy, hoping it would redirect his efforts. It had — though it introduced a new disturbance.

     The squeak.

     Arch was not pleased.

     Still, the books were now catalogued, barcoded, stickered, and scanned. The shop was nearly ready. Just a few finishing touches — and a barista.

     “I’m surprised the bookstore even let you build in here,” Arch remarked.

     “What do you mean?” Ellie asked, scribbling a list — counter décor, a bookmark stand, perhaps a shelf for stationery.

     “An enchanted store that creates hidden doors and mystery windows? If it wanted a café, it would’ve created one.”

     “Maybe she let me build it because she liked the idea,” Ellie said lightly, doodling at the bottom of the page.

     “She?” Arch echoed.

     “Yeah. She. She feels like a she.”

     The bunny in her doodle twitched — then hopped cleanly off the page. Ellie had discovered she could animate her sketches for a few fleeting minutes. Never long. Just enough. The tiny rabbit bounced through the air, and her smile followed it.

     Pip lowered himself, muscles coiling before he pounced. He adored Ellie’s temporary creatures, chasing them until they dissolved into nothing, which usually earned him a soft laugh.

     Ellie’s gaze followed the playful chaos — until it stilled. The flier. Or rather, the absence of it. She looked to the printer. The tray was empty.

     “Arch, I did hang that flier up, right?”

     “Yes. Only a minute ago,” he replied, distracted by Pip.

     “It’s not there.”

     “Print another. It probably blew away.”

     Hmm. She pulled up the document and clicked print. A notification appeared:

     No Printer Found.

     Ellie looked down. The printer was dark. She checked the cord. Plugged in.

     The breaker.

     She crossed into the café, where the breaker box had been installed during construction. There hadn’t been one before — the electrician had added it so she could power both the café and the front of the shop.

     “Why is it so cold in here?” Ellie murmured, rubbing her arms as she opened the panel. The switch labeled Front had flipped off. That’s odd she thought, flipping the switch back to the on position.

     When she returned to the printer, it blinked awake. The machine clicked, whirred, and accepted the command. The new flier began feeding through.

     “What do you mean it’s cold?” Arch asked.

     The animated bunny had vanished. Pip had retreated to the plush bed Ellie bought him alongside the squeaky toy. He’d been wary at first, but now he pressed his nose against its raised edge before rolling onto his back, exposing his pink belly in full trust.

     Arch was perched on the counter beside her.

     “I mean it’s freezing.” Ellie slipped her jacket back on.

     She walked outside to the window and hung the fresh flier.

     “This store is always warm. You’re imagining it,” Arch replied as she stepped back inside.

     Pip rose slowly, trotted toward the café — then rushed back to his bed, curling tightly, a faint tremor running through him.

     “See? Even Pip’s cold.”

     “Maybe the bookstore doesn’t approve of the café after all,” Arch said. “I told you. If she wanted one, she would’ve made one.”

     “Ha. She!” Ellie declared triumphantly.

     She could almost hear his sigh.

     “I don’t think she would’ve let me build it if she disapproved,” Ellie said.

     Pip barked.

     “What is it?” Ellie’s brows drew together.

     He ran to the front window, barking sharply.

     The sign was gone.

 

Chapter 2

     Ellie hurried out of the store.

     She scanned the sidewalk, the street, the edges of the building. Nothing had caught in the blooming vines framing the window. The flowers peaking from the grass blanketed ground remained undisturbed, their petals clean of paper. Nothing clung to the railing across the street either.

     No flier.

     She stood still for a moment. There was no wind. Not even a whisper.

     Ellie stepped back inside, nose tingling from the cold, and returned to her laptop.

     “There isn’t any wind out there,” she said to no one in particular. “So where are the fliers going?”

     Arch did not answer.

     Ellie printed another flier and taped it to the inside of the window this time.

     “There. Now it shouldn’t disappear.” She planted her hands on her hips and watched it carefully, waiting for even the slightest tremble.

     Nothing.

     “What are we going to do about the café?” Arch asked.

     “Well, as long as everything else works, I can put a heater in the corner. Between the brewing and baking, it’ll warm up.” Ellie nodded, as if convincing herself.

     “Let’s test the espresso machine. I could use a coffee anyway.”

     She crossed into the café and double-checked the plug. She filled the reservoir, locked the portafilter into place, and pressed the button.

     Silence.

     The indicator light glowed.

     But nothing happened.

     “Blast.”

     Without warning, water burst from the top of the reservoir, splashing the counter. The portafilter jerked loose, scattering coffee grounds across the floor.

     Ellie lunged forward, flipping the switch and yanking the plug from the wall.

     The chaos stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

     The café felt still. Too still.

     “By the binding…” Ellie breathed.

     The counter was soaked. Grounds clung to the tiles. The air smelled sharp and bitter.

     And the flier—

     Ellie’s head snapped toward the window

     Gone.

     Again.

     “Maybe you’re right, Arch. Maybe she doesn’t want me to open the café.” Her voice softened. She loved the idea of it — the scent of roasted coffee, sugary pastries, customers settling into armchairs with books tucked beneath their chins.

     “See? Who puts a café in a bookstore anyway?” Arch huffed.

     “A lot of people do. It’s a perfect aesthetic.”

     “I know. Doesn’t mean I agree.”

     Ellie fetched the broom and began sweeping the scattered grounds into a pile. Maybe the electrician just needs to come take a look, she thought.

     After wiping the water from the counter, she pulled her phone from her pocket.

     “What are you doing?” Arch asked.

     “Calling the electrician. Maybe they can fix it.”

 

     When she hung up, Ellie returned to her computer and printed yet another flier. This time, she taped every edge securely to the glass.

     “Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?” Arch asked.

     “Do you have any better ideas?”

     “You could stop hanging them up. It’s clear the bookstore doesn’t want the café.”

     “What is with you today? You’re so grouchy.”

     “I’m not grouchy.”

     Ellie lifted a brow.

     “Pip used me as a pillow last night,” Arch muttered. “It was not comfortable.”

     Ellie laughed softly.

     “Believe it or not, I think you’d actually like the café.”

     “And why is that?”

     “Because it’ll bring more life to the shop.”

     Ellie’s gaze drifted back to the flier.

     Still there.

     She smiled faintly. Maybe the shop is fine. Maybe we’re just being dramatic.

     She kept watching the flier. Waiting. The paper didn’t move. Didn’t flutter. Didn’t peel.

     Blink.

     Ellie’s breath caught. Her mouth fell open.

 

Chapter 3

     The flier disappeared.

     No wind tugged at it. No draft stole it away. It simply — wasn’t there.

     “Did you just see that, Arch?” Ellie blurted.

     Pip began barking.

     “How do I fight something that vanishes into thin air?” Ellie burst out, throwing her hands up.

     Arch was silent. She imagined his expression — stunned, calculating.

     “I haven’t seen that one before,” he said at last, adjusting his tone into something measured. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be entirely surprised.”

     Before Ellie could respond, the espresso machine erupted again.

     Water shot from the reservoir. The oven began beeping in frantic intervals. The kettle screamed.

     “I thought you unplugged it!” Arch called over the noise.

     “I did!”

     Ellie rushed into the café, snatching the rag from the counter. She yanked the kettle from the burner, clicked off the stove, and draped the rag over the espresso lid, trying to muffle the spray.

     Berries tumbled from their bowl. Sugar scattered across the counter and floor, staining the tiles dark red and violet. Sticky sounds echoed beneath her shoes.

     Pip darted forward, happily licking at the spilled fruit sneaking sugar with every swoop.

     “Oh, Pip!” Ellie cried, remembering the last time Pip had too much sugar. He had singed several books with wild fireworks he ignited with excitement.

     She stooped to scoop him up — but he wouldn’t budge. He felt impossibly heavy, rooted to the floor.

     Ellie grabbed the remaining bowl of berries and lifted it just out of reach.

     “Come on.” Ellie waved the bowl by Pip.

     Pip followed.

     “That’s enough!” Ellie shouted, turning back toward the café. “If you don’t want it, you don’t need to make a mess of it. I am not spending the rest of my day cleaning up this—”

     She stopped herself.

     The mess froze midair. Berries suspended. Water hanging in glassy arcs. Sugar crystals hovering like glitter.

     Then — Everything dropped. The water ceased. The oven fell silent. The kettle stilled. The shop went quiet.

     Too quiet.

     “There are other ways to tell me what you want,” Ellie said, her voice steadier now. “You don’t need theatrics.”

     The air held.

     Then, as if inhaling—The mess vanished.

     The floor was dry. The counter clean. The berries restored to their bowl. The espresso machine sat innocent and still.

     The café looked untouched.

     “Ellie… are you alright?” Arch asked carefully.

     “No.” Her voice trembled, but not from fear. “This is ridiculous. A café would be good for this shop. You miss people. You miss conversation. You miss relationships. You want to be open again.”

     Her words echoed faintly against the shelves.

     “A café gives people a reason to stay. To linger. To feel at home.”

     Ellie grabbed her keys and crossed the distance to the door.

     “Where are you going?” Arch asked, a note of hesitation threading through his voice.

     Ellie didn’t respond.

 

Chapter 4

     Ellie rushed out of the store, locking it behind her, and crossed to the boardwalk along the river below.

     She often walked there when life felt too loud. The damp, cold air steadied her. Gulls called overhead. Sometimes she imagined renting a small boat and drifting down the river, watching the shoreline pass without asking anything of her.

     She breathed in slowly.

     The café mattered to her.

     But she could understand tension around something new — something untested. The bookstore had stood far longer than she had lived. It had survived decades unopened and forgotten.

     Another breath. Ellie gathered herself and started gently back to the shop.

 

     When she returned, a young woman with bright red hair stood at the door.

     Ellie slowed. The woman held a small stack of pink papers. Her heart leapt.

     She hurried forward, then forced herself to slow, pressing down her smile just enough to appear reasonable.

     “I’m so sorry to bother you,” the woman said gently. “But these kept appearing in my hands, and I wasn’t sure what to do with them.”

     Ellie’s grin widened despite herself. She glanced at the shop — not at anything in particular — then back at the woman.

     The woman cleared her throat.

     “My name is Juniper. And I was wondering… if the position is still available. I would love to be a barista at a bookstore.” Her voice carried a careful hope.

     “Hi — sorry,” Ellie said quickly, shaking her head as if returning to herself. “I’m Ellie. And yes, the position is still available. Would you like to come in?”

     She unlocked the door and gestured warmly.

 

     As they stepped inside, Pip darted toward Ellie and leapt into her arms — noticeably lighter than before — licking her face until she laughed.

     “Okay, okay, Pip,” she chuckled. “I’m back. I’m sorry.”

     He dropped to the floor and turned his attention to Juniper. He approached slowly, sniffed her shoes, then sat and wagged his tail with bright approval.

     “This is Pip,” Ellie said. “He’s the shop dragon.”

     “Hi, Pip,” Juniper crouched, offering her hand patiently.

     Pip sniffed, then nudged her palm with his nose.

     “Are you familiar with dragons?” Ellie asked.

     “My grandmother has one,” Juniper said softly. “She’s older. And much grumpier. But she adores my grandmother.”

     “Who is she?” Arch prompted quietly. “Wait… is she holding the fliers?”

     “Yeah! Isn’t it great?” Ellie whispered back.

     “Isn’t what great?” Juniper tilted her head.

     “Oh — sorry,” Ellie laughed nervously. “I babble sometimes.”

     Juniper smiled, as if she’d heard stranger things.

     “Would you like to see the café?”

 

     As they stepped into the café space, warmth lingered there — subtle but unmistakable.

     Ellie felt it.

     “As you can see, here’s the espresso machine. And our drip brewer. Beans are stored here, grinder there…” She walked Juniper through the layout, asking about her experience, her favorite drinks to make, what she enjoyed about café work.

     Juniper answered easily. Thoughtfully.

     When Ellie asked if she had questions, Juniper shook her head.

     “I’m just excited,” Juniper said.

     As Juniper left, she gave Pip one last scratch and waved before closing the door softly behind her.

 

     “Did you feel that, Arch?” Ellie whispered, nearly bouncing.

     “Feel what?”

     “The café was warm.” The word felt sacred. Then she stilled.

     Her gaze lifted — tracing the ceiling beams, the shelves, the quiet space beyond. The bookstore had sent Juniper the fliers. It wasn’t rejection.

     “I’m sorry,” Ellie said softly, shoulders relaxing. “You weren’t against the café. You were excited.”

     The shop settled.

     A gentle ding sounded from the oven.

     Ellie turned, her heart melting from what settled on the counter.

 

Chapter 5

     A blueberry muffin sat on the countertop — golden, warmed, fragrant. Ellie felt the gentle nudge again. Beside the muffin lay a folded note.

     “I believe in you.”

     Pip pressed his head softly against her leg.

     Ellie knelt, gliding her fingers along his scales upon his head.

     Next to Pip’s bed, a special treat had appeared — shaped like a tiny book.

     “Of course it is,” Ellie murmured, taking note of the pattern.

     It was a wonder he hadn’t chewed on the actual books themselves.

     Pip barked and darted toward the treat, attempting to savor it but ultimately inhaling it whole.

     Ellie laughed quietly and rose, reaching for the muffin.

     “Hey, Arch,” she said between bites, crumbs dotting her sleeve. “Did you notice anything strange about her?”

     “You mean besides the fact that she accepted you talking to yourself?” Arch replied dryly.

     “Nooo.” Ellie nearly choked on a blueberry, laughing.

     “Or the fact that she’s a witchling?”

     Ellie froze.

     “A witchling?” Her eyes widened. “Really? Wait — did she hear you?”

     “No,” Arch said calmly. “She isn’t a book witch. Remember, you are technically a Libre Magus. We just call it book witch for short.”

     Ellie blinked. Glancing toward the door Juniper had just stepped through, a slow, understanding smile curved across her face.

     “Well,” she paused in thought, taking another bite of the muffin, “that explains a few things.”

     The café hummed gently around her.

     Warm.