The Problem With Pastries

Hope breathed in the warm scent of pastries as she walked through the doors. They'd left for London as soon as Newt had returned and dusk was approaching. It was the perfect time for a sweet treat; Hope could practically taste the chocolate already.

Sitting at one of the tables, Albus brought a warm cinnamon bun for them to share. Hope smirked, remembering the last time she'd had one of these. Recalling to her memory how she'd eaten it off Newt's stomach and then had Albus finish off the icing.

By blush creeping along Newt's cheeks, he seemed to remember that night as vividly as she did. Of course, he had. He and Albus had their first kiss. At least their first kiss in front of her. She had a feeling there was a lot more she hadn't seen, but she didn't want to pry if it was personal.

It wasn't always easy for some to admit feelings for others.

Hope watched a curvy woman in a tighter-fitting dress walk past and…damn. Her eyes followed her all the way out the door. Now, that was an ass that didn't quit.

Glancing over, she realized Albus was staring at her with an eyebrow raised. Newt had frozen his position, a forkful of cinnamon bun inches from his mouth.

With a grin, Hope shrugged and picked up her fork. "What?" She asked, stabbing some icing-smothered bun, "I like cherries." Grinning, she put the sweetness between her teeth and pulled the fork away with a subtle wink.

Albus chuckled and shook his head. "Hm, you never cease to surprise me."

"Excuse me." The worker who usually ran the counter walked up to their table. "There's a man outside to see you." He said, staring at her intently.

Furrowing her brows, she glanced at Newt and Albus, who looked puzzled. Looking up at the man, his features void of emotion, she narrowed her eyes.

"Who is he?" Hope asked.

"I…don't know." He frowned with a slight shake of his head.

Nodding slowly, Hope leaned back in her chair. "What does he look like?"

"I…" The young man shook his head again, looking slightly distraught now, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I don't know."

Hope slowly stood and looked into his eyes. "You spoke to him but can't recall what he looks like?"

With a nod, he swallowed hard and looked around, expression blank again, before leaving the table without another word. He ventured behind the counter and began working on stacking boxes as if he hadn't walked over and had a conversation with them.

Ignoring them completely.

Hope lowered herself to her seat, heart skipping a beat as she contemplated what this might mean.

"What's happened to him?" Newt asked, watching the man work. "That was very…strange."

Hope's eyes flitted to the large windows that overlooked the darkened street. No one was in sight, but that didn't mean they weren't nearby.

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Hope leaned close to them. Eyes alert, body ridged. "I think he was compelled."

"By a vampire?" Newt whispered and glanced over his shoulder.

With a nod, she bit her lip. "I don't know who, but someone wants to talk to me."

Newt glanced between her and Albus. "You don't think it's some friend of Henry's?"

Shrugging, she sighed. "It's possible, I guess. Maybe they think they can avenge their best mate." She rolled her eyes and looked out the window again before looking fixedly at them.

Albus leaned forward now. "Do you have a plan in mind then?" He asked, keeping his voice low, watching curiously.

With a quick drum of her fingers on the table, she nodded. "I think you need to use the bathroom, and we'll meet you outside," she whispered, dropping her voice even lower, "there's a door in the back I saw the last time we were here. A counterattack if we need one. They don't need to hold all of the aces."

In agreement, Albus retreated to the back, where the bathrooms were located, while she and Newt stood to go outside. Hope wrapped one arm around Newt's waist as they left the pastry shop and ventured into the night air. One might think she hugged him affectionately, but that wasn't true.

Hope was prepared to shield him from whatever may be lurking in the dark.

She could feel a presence when they set foot outside, but it was strangely familiar.

Curiously, Hope glanced around at her surroundings, and there, at the corner of the pastry shop, next to the alley's mouth, stood a man who wasn't Albus.

Hope drew in a sharp breath.

"Elijah."