NOVEL NEXT B2. Chapter 3: My Barista Days Are Officially Over
Mo stood outside Between the Lines, her old bookstore-café in Bath, watching through the Georgian windows as a reality support group met in what used to be her perfectly normal employee break room. A man in his fifties was crying into a tissue while golden mathematical equations spiraled above his head, and a woman in her twenties kept accidentally evaporating her tea every time she got emotional. She had to fill in the cup several times already.
Three days since the Integration, and even her old sanctuary had become a casualty of Julian's democratic magic experiment.
The honey-colored Bath stone looked the same in the November drizzle, weathered to that familiar warm cream that had always felt like home. The hand-painted sign still swung gently in the wind, though someone—probably Lily—had added "Post-Integration Literary Therapy and Proper Coffee" and "All Magical Abilities Welcome (Please Inform Staff of Reality-Altering Effects)" to the windows.
Mo's rose-gold energy stirred restlessly beneath her skin, responding to her emotional state like it always did now. The visible manifestation pulsed and shifted around her hands, bright enough that passing pedestrians gave her a wide berth. Not that she blamed them. Half the population was still figuring out what magical abilities even were, let alone which ones were dangerous.
Since the recent events, and it wasn't only Julian's ritual, she decided not to hide when her succubus powers were active. Unless hiding them helped her strategically. And there was no need to mask her abilities on Earth anymore, with magic slowly penetrating all regions of the world.
"The safe zone where magic works predictably," read her latest intelligence report from Shadow Infiltrator Korrinth, one of her changeling operatives embedded in Bath's municipal planning office. "Bookstore experiencing unusual stability compared to surrounding magical chaos. Emotional residue absorption crystals functioning at 340% normal efficiency. Local leylines show signs of responding to our stabilization measures. Integration Support Centre already registered and seems to be having unprecedented therapy success rates."
Mo grimaced. Her people were too good at their jobs. Bath's uncanny stability during the magical crisis wasn't some happy accident of Georgian architecture and British understatement. It was the result of two hundred carefully placed operatives working around the clock to keep her former home from descending into the same chaos consuming Manchester and Newcastle.
The irony wasn't lost on her. She'd chosen Bath as her refuge specifically because it was safely mundane, a place where she could pretend to be normal. Now it was only remaining normal because she was actively deploying military and intelligence assets to control the newly transformed human rogue magical agents.
According to this morning's operational summary, her teams had successfully intercepted forty-three newly Integrated humans before they could implement what the reports diplomatically termed "reality-destabilizing initiatives." Everything from a hedge fund manager trying to use newly manifested probability manipulation to corner the London Stock Exchange, to a Birmingham city councilor whose emotional amplification abilities had accidentally turned three neighborhood disputes into full-scale riots.
But they'd been too late for at least a dozen others. Portal deployment was slow and expensive—even her substantial resources couldn't maintain instant response capabilities across all of Southern England. And the High Council wasn't helping by slow-walking permits, as Earth was still declared a quarantine zone. As were all the affected human worlds.
The report from Coventry still made her wince: a Level 15 Chaos Theorist had managed to turn the ring road into a temporal loop before her extraction team arrived. Traffic was still sorting itself out. How was that guy able to get 15 levels in under three days? Her guess was as good as anyone else's.
Still, considering the scope of the crisis and her limited Earth-deployable forces, Mo found herself impressed with her subordinates' performance. Preventing magical catastrophes while maintaining plausible deniability required exactly the kind of creative problem-solving she hoped to see from her experts. It was something she aspired to with her plans and actions.
Her phone buzzed with another update from the group chat. Nyx reporting from Seattle, Lucian checking in from Moscow. Both discovering the same pattern she was seeing here—Julian's System spreading faster than they could track it, adapting and evolving with each new human it touched.
And reacting to the presence of the magical outsiders.
Every time one of them entered an area with System instability, the magical patterns shifted. Mo's succubus energy seemed to provide a template that newly awakened humans unconsciously followed, creating classes like "Emotional Amplifier" and "Influence Specialist" among people who'd never heard of demons. Nyx's shapeshifting abilities were spawning "Form Adjustors" and "Identity Flexibility Influencers." Lucian's ice magic was inspiring an entire frost-based magical tradition among people in cold climates.
They weren't just investigating the crisis anymore. They were accidentally shaping it.
Returning from her thoughts to the reality of Bath's street, Mo finally pushed open the familiar bottle-green door, the brass fittings looking pleasantly tarnished just as she remembered. The bell chimed—the same welcome sound that had greeted thousands of customers looking for the right book and perfect coffee.
"Mo!" Lily Hartwell looked up from behind the gleaming espresso machine that Mo had spent so many hours perfecting latte art with. Her former colleague seemed to be adapting to post-Integration retail with the same determined cheerfulness she'd brought to managing difficult customers and temperamental coffee equipment. "We weren't expecting you, but this is perfect timing. We're having our first cross-dimensional literature discussion group in twenty minutes."
"Cross-dimensional literature?" Mo asked, her rose-gold energy flickering with surprise around her hands. She caught Lily's eyes widening at the visible manifestation and realized explanations were overdue.
"Well, once people started manifesting magical abilities, they wanted to know if the fantasy novels were remotely accurate." Lily gestured to a table where several customers were intensely debating while floating books organized themselves in neat stacks around them. "Turns out most of them were complete rubbish, but some of these new books we received through the city's magic stabilization program have been incredibly helpful. 'Practical Guide to Magical Etiquette' has been our bestseller since Tuesday."
Mo felt a complex tangle of pride and melancholy. One of her agents must have delivered those books as part of Bath's integration support—her way of ensuring her former workplace could adapt to the new reality. Even in crisis, people were turning to books for understanding. When reality had gone completely sideways, her former workplace was finding ways to help people make sense of their new world.
"Though I have to say," Lily continued, flipping through one of the magical tutorials, "the publishing house name caught my attention. Nightshade Academic Press? Bit of a coincidence, that."
Mo winced slightly. Of course Lily would notice. "Not exactly a coincidence. It's... a family business. We don't usually publish on Earth, but considering the transportation costs from other dimensions, it seemed more practical to acquire a local printing operation."
"Not on Earth?" Lily's voice carried the particular tone of someone whose worldview was rapidly expanding beyond comfortable boundaries. "Other dimensions? You mean there are other... what, planets? Worlds?"
"Yes, Lily, dimensions. Planes of existence. Think of it like... parallel realities, but with different magical ecosystems." Mo's typical energy flickered as she tried to find words that wouldn't sound completely insane. "The demon realm, the fey courts, dragon territories—they're all separate but connected through interdimensional infrastructure."
"And you…?"
"Lily," Mo said carefully, letting a controlled thread of her succubus energy flow just enough to prove her point without overwhelming anyone, "I should probably mention that I'm not entirely human. Or entirely not human. That would be more correct. I don't have a single drop of humanity in my bloodline. The Integration didn't give me these abilities—I've always had them."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Lily stared at the magical light dancing around Mo's fingers, then slowly set down the book she'd been holding. "Well, that explains a few things. Like that time last year when you stopped a falling book with just a look, and I convinced myself I was hallucinating from too much caffeine." She paused, processing. "So when you said you had 'family obligations' that required extended leave..."
"My parents were declared missing. I had to endure this bizarre coronation procedure…"
"Coronation?" Lily's eyebrows shot up. "Like... compared to King Charles, how much actual influence are we talking about here?"
"It doesn't even compare," Mo said with a rueful laugh. "Think less ceremonial ribbon-cutting, more 'responsible for seventeen different territorial governments and their military forces in several planes of reality.' The paperwork alone could kill a person."
"So, you were a princess while working here? Why?"
"That's a long story. But anyway, I was made to attend a Demonic academy. Also, a goblin revolt happened, if you can imagine that."
"Goblins are real?" Lily's eyes lit up with the same enthusiasm she'd shown for discovering a new book series. "Are they actually small and green, or is that just human mythology getting it wrong?"
"Small, no. Green, yes. But also more like... super efficient with good engineering skills and strong opinions about workplace safety when you allow them to speak out." Mo's energy warmed with genuine affection. "I should introduce you to Grimz sometime. He's my Chief Executive Administrator. Self-made person through and through. You'd appreciate his approach to organizational management."
"So, should we expect big green men coming to Earth?"
"Not anytime soon. Earth is quarantined. As are all other human worlds. You see, humans mostly didn't have any magic until recently. And this interdimensional crisis changes everything. It also apparently requires my personal attention. School assignment, all that." Mo's energy flickered with nervous humor. "I realize this is a lot to take in."
"School assignment?" Lily's voice carried a note of disbelief. "They've assigned students to handle an interdimensional crisis? That's like... asking a preschooler to resolve the Cuban Missile Crisis, isn't it?"
"Pretty much exactly like that, yes." Mo's laugh held more than a hint of hysteria. "Apparently the Academy's solution to 'students accidentally prevented complete apocalypse' is 'congratulations, now it's your responsibility to clean up the mess.' Never mind that we're first-years who barely understand interdimensional politics."
"So, what happened to your parents?" Lily asked gently, her expression shifting to concern. "Is it also part of this crisis?"
"I don't think so. It may be a different crisis altogether. My parents were... explorers, I suppose you'd call them. Always chasing the next impossible interdimensional project or dangerous acquisition. They went missing some time ago. Probably on some ambitious mission. I don't have all details, unfortunately." Mo's voice carried the practiced neutrality of someone who'd learned to discuss painful topics without falling apart. "Though honestly, knowing them, I wasn't entirely surprised when I received the news. I think I inherited their tendency toward inadvertent crisis management."
"Oh, Mo." Lily's expression softened with genuine sympathy. "That explains so much about why you seemed to find comfort in just... normal work. Making coffee, recommending books, having regular customers who needed predictable things."
"Exactly." Mo felt a wave of gratitude for Lily's understanding. "This place was my refuge from all the supernatural politics and family obligations. Just books and coffee and people who wanted simple pleasures. So, what are your thoughts about all that?"
"Honestly? After the past three days of watching street musicians level up mid-performance and customers accidentally enchanting their lattes, finding out my favorite barista is supernatural feels almost... normal." Lily's practical nature was clearly adapting to impossible circumstances with the same efficiency she'd always applied to inventory management. "Though it does explain why you were so good at recommending exactly the right book for people's problems."
Before Mo could respond, the door chimed again. She turned to see Valerius entering, his usually perfect appearance slightly windswept from whatever diplomatic transport had brought him from London. Despite everything that had happened between them—the years of antagonism, the recent days of tentative alliance, the complicated dance of rebuilding trust—Mo felt her heart skip when she saw him.
Three days. It had only been three days since they'd started figuring out what their relationship might look like without the weight of family history and Academy politics between them. Not nearly enough time to navigate from "trying to get as far from each other as possible" to "maybe we could try to proceed without mutual stabbing" without occasional moments of emotional whiplash.
"The Prime Minister sends his regards," Valerius said, his diplomatic smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Lily's mouth fell open slightly. "Wait, he isn't joking, right? The Prime Minister? As in, the actual Prime Minister?"
"Well, when you have military forces that could overwhelm all Earth governments even if they stopped bickering and joined together, heads of state tend to take your calls," Mo said dryly. Then she gestured between them with a wry smile. "Lily, meet Valerius Crowe—demon nobility, diplomatic envoy, and the boy who used to pull my pigtails in what you might generously call demonic middle and high school."
"Demon…?" asked Lily, but then stopped abruptly, looking at Mo. "I should probably stop repeating the words you say, right? It seems you are explaining everything, no matter what."
Mo smiled and continued: "Valerius, this is Lily Hartwell, the person who kept this place running while I was off, preventing reality from collapsing."
"Charmed," Valerius said with a slight bow that managed to be both perfectly polite and faintly mocking. "Though I prefer to think of our early interactions as 'tactical relationship negotiations'."
"You put spiders in my desk," Mo pointed out.
"Diplomatic pressure tactics."
Lily looked between them with growing understanding. "Right. So when you mentioned 'family obligations,' you actually meant 'consulting with world leaders about preventing interdimensional warfare'."
"So," Mo said, returning to the previous topic, "Prime Minister?"
"Asked to mention his frustration that interdimensional currency exchange negotiations require a completely new branch of government that doesn't technically exist yet."
"How's the integration committee handling things?"
"About as well as you'd expect from humans discovering their entire worldview was incomplete." Valerius moved to the counter, his bearing making even ordering coffee look like a political negotiation. "Though I must say, your agents have been invaluable. The shapeshifter operatives in particular have prevented at least six potential incidents this week."
Mo winced. "Are we being too obvious?"
"On the contrary. If I didn't already know to look for Blackthorn Keep's involvement, I'd never spot them." Valerius said, accepting a coffee from Lily. "Though the Prime Minister is beginning to ask pointed questions about why certain areas are remarkably stable while others descend into magical chaos."
"I wonder how soon they'll start to rely on our agents to fix their problems... By the way," Mo said and pulled out her tablet, displaying the intelligence reports she'd been reviewing all morning. "My people are tracking System spread patterns across multiple human worlds. As we expected, it isn't just Earth."
Valerius paused with his coffee halfway to his lips. "Do you have any people in location?"
"Not really. The High Council's quarantine is quite tight. They allowed us on Earth only thanks to my connection to the world." Mo stopped, briefly glancing at Lily. "But it's not all. It's growing even farther away. Grimz sent a message this morning—even my demonic realm is experiencing what he calls 'strange sensations' that feel suspiciously like Julian's democratization of magic trying to take root. He's actually started manifesting magical powers himself. Goblins never had anything like that!"
"Why didn't goblins have magic?" Lily asked with genuine curiosity, then immediately caught herself and made a zipper motion across her mouth. "Sorry, I'll stop interrupting."
"No, it's fine," Mo said with a tired smile. "Goblins are excellent engineers and administrators precisely because they've always worked with purely mechanical and organizational solutions. Magic was never part of their species' development. So when Grimz starts reporting 'unauthorized reality modifications' in his missives..."
"Ah… Alright…" said Lily.
Mo looked at Valerius once again. "Whatever we did in that chamber, we didn't fully stop it. Maybe we made its effects on Umbra Academy and its pocket reality more contained. But our actions may have had other effects and consequences as well."
"We should find somewhere to talk properly," Valerius suggested, glancing around the increasingly busy café.
"Use the corner table," Lily offered. "It's usually reserved for management."
Valerius took her hand and pressed a brief, courtly kiss to her knuckles. "This is so kind of you to offer."
Lily blushed prettily, and Mo found herself examining this touch and more connection with more intensity than she expected from herself.
They found seats in the corner where Mo used to spend her breaks, away from the ongoing literature discussion and the support group meeting. The familiar comfort of worn armchairs and filled bookshelves felt surreal against the backdrop of multidimensional crisis management.
"There's something else," Valerius said quietly. "During the negotiations yesterday, several government officials seemed unusually resistant to my diplomatic persuasion. Not just politically stubborn—magically resistant."
Mo's energy pulsed with recognition. "I've noticed that too. People in Bath who were near the hotspots I investigated last week—some of them have developed shields against succubus influence. They can sense that I'm not entirely human, but they can't access any information about my actual power level through the System. Probably because I'm not a part of the System. Nyx and Lucian reported similar cases as well."
"How many?"
"A dozen so far just in this area alone." Mo leaned forward, her voice dropping with growing realization. "Valerius, I think Julian's ritual isn't just spreading random magical abilities. It's learning from every interaction, adapting and improvising on the spot. Is it sentient?"
"And we're training it every time we investigate a hotspot."