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shops, and a handful of restaurants. With a population that exploded from a few thousand to ten or so thousand in the summer months when tourism was at its peak, it was the sort of place where if you didn’t know everyone, you at least knew of most of the people you came in contact with. The local economy was a strange mish-mosh of wealth and poverty, multi-million dollar vacation “cabins” and modest family dwellings. A place where most people’s mottos fell along the lines of sink or swim, feast or famine, or work your ass off while the weather’s nice, because you’ll be collecting unemployment once the snow starts falling.
    Jacquelyn was lucky she had a year-round job. Most people needed caffeine like they needed air. Hence the existence of several coffee shops in a town too small for even a Target. The most coveted jobs around were not only year-round gigs, but the ones that offered health insurance benefits like working at the grocery stores or for the U.S. Forest Service. Jacquelyn didn’t get those sorts of perks serving coffee, but it was a steady paycheck and for that, she was grateful.
    Bree gave her a dirty look as she slid in through the back door of Grind. The coffee shop buzzed with activity and the day manager looked like her head was about to explode. Paper cups sat lined up on the back counter and the steamer hissed as it heated and foamed the milk inside the metal pitcher, unattended.
    “I’m not late,” Jacquelyn said defensively in response to Bree’s stern look.
    “You’re not fucking early either,” she grumbled as she pumped caramel sauce into the bottom of one of the cups.
    For some reason, Bree confused working at a coffee shop with working on the docks. Her longshoreman vocabulary wasn’t exactly suited for their clientele. Thank God she didn’t work at the elementary school. Jacquelyn could only imagine those little first graders’ wide eyes as Bree dropped f-bombs left and right. “I know it’s a lot to ask for you to actually work at your job, but can you start some more espresso for me? And heat up a scone, too.”
    Jacquelyn flashed the kind of smile that said, Would you like an ass kicking with that scone? Besides having a raging crush on Finn that had always pitted them against one another, Bree was just bent out of shape because work had a tendency to cut into time she could spend gossiping. If you wanted to know anything about anyone in this town, Bree could tell you. Not everything she said would be true, mind you, but Bree couldn’t be bothered with trivial things like fact-checking. Jacquelyn put Bree’s waspish comments to the back of her mind and played the good employee, stuffing her annoyance to the soles of her feet. She couldn’t blame Bree for her cranky mood, even if Bree blamed Jacquelyn for hers.
    As she tamped the ground espresso into the brew basket and fastened it to the machine, Jacquelyn thought briefly of her encounter with the Changeling the night before. It creeped her out to no end to see a simply human form, knowing it was the vessel for so much evil. They’d been lucky to put it down. It would have only been a matter of time before the creature used up the body it inhabited and went out looking for a new host. And next time, its prey might have been younger.
    “Fucking balls, Jax, is that espresso done yet ?” Bree called over her shoulder. “Or did you have to run to Brazil and harvest the beans yourself?”
    “Keep your thong on, Bree,” she murmured. “It’s just coffee.”
    With a precision stemming from years of training that had nothing to do with caffeinated beverages, Jacquelyn managed to catch Bree’s orders up and restore harmony to the morning. Making a Mexican mocha was nothing compared to killing a demon or beheading the undead.
    “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look bored,” Wes Maxwell remarked, approaching the counter. One of Grind’s many regulars, he never missed a day without an iced soy macchiato.