Caife na Sídhe by Scott O'Neill

Niall had avoided our writers’ group since scoring his book deal. When I spied him skulking into a grotty cafe, I followed. He hunched at a cable-spool table, typing feverishly.

“What is your desire?” asked the barista. Her luminous grey eyes and seductive smile became my whole world.

“My own book deal,” I stammered.

“Coffee first, perhaps?”

“Don’t!” Niall shouted, too late.

Her coffee tasted of elderflower and mugwort. Plotlines and characters kaleidoscoped across my mind. My fingers itched for a keyboard.

The barista smiled impossibly wide, her teeth and expression sharp.

“Come, kiss your muse and seal the bargain.”