There was no other way Cora could explain the magical properties of such a nasty tasting concoction. She walked into the coffee shop down the road from Porter’s Pub and joined the mid-morning line. Inhaling deeply, she pondered the irony of how something that smelled so good could taste so vile. Yet as disgusting as she found it, she was a slave to its ability to wake her up and keep her that way. With the visions coming more frequently, she’d been getting even less sleep than usual and needed the boost. The door chimed, and in idle curiosity, she peeked over her shoulder to see who else was subjecting themselves to their morning ritual. Her muscles tensed as Gavin took the spot behind her in line. Their eyes met, and she gave a tentative smile. When he continued to scowl, she faced forward, concentrating on the menu board. Sinclair is the only person in this world I despise more than you. Even a week later, his words haunted her.
