Selene had arrived just after 3am to help with the late night crowd. If you could call four underdwellers a crowd.

Vicki looked over the customers as she brought a hot cup of coffee to her lips. It would take some time to get accustomed to the shift in her sleep schedule, but it looked like it'd be worth it.

"So, was I right or was I really right?" Selene said while leaning over the counter.

Vicki stifled a laugh. "This was my idea, remember?"

Selene pouted for a moment, then broke into a wide-toothed grin.

"Well, I prefer to be an inspirer of good ideas anyway. This is so perfect. No one will have to live in fear of the night anymore! Especially us mixed mortals."

Selene was right. The town once had a vibrant nightlife, but with the lack of tourism came more aggressive underdwellers who were not above attacking their own. It made the mixed mortals all the more cautious to go out at all, which in turn, crumbled the night economy further. Vicki hadn't considered it before, but was there the slightest chance that her magic could save the town?

She was too deep in thought to greet the customer who had just entered.

Just last week she had walked up the road to the beach house where her landlord lived. His house was just as aged as the store, a beacon of prior days shouldered between the plastic dreams of Airbnb hosts. She let herself through the fence and stepped over the moss-covered stones that lined the walkway.

A dog back boomed from behind the door, and she could see the wood bowing from heavy paws hammering against the panels.

Vicki smiled.

Then she heard the dog yelp and a gruff voice curse.

A few more moments passed before locks clicked and chains jangled and finally, the door creaked open.

A face hacked into by age and etched by fear peeked from behind the wood.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lanning, do you have a moment to talk?"

"Always a minute for you, Vicki, hurry up, the sun will set any moment now."

The high sun was baking her neck, so instead of reminding him of the time, she hurried behind the old man. She stepped lightly around mirrors, strings of garlic, and crosses made of iron.

"You know you ought to be careful out there," he said from the other room.

"I do my best to." She tried to find him in the sea of knick-knacks but came up short. "Mr. Lanning," she called over the stacks of religious books. "I was wondering if I could get another week or two to turn in rent."

The old man peeked up above another set of books.

"Here it is!" he said and then hacked up a cough. He walked up to Vicki and handed her a box. "Had a dream last night, one I've had before. Can't be too careful with those creatures. That'll keep you safe."

Vicki had wasted her breath trying to tell the old man that she was a witch capable of her own protection. But he didn't believe in magic, let alone witches, and proof enough of Vicki's humanness was her ability to walk around his underdweller-proof house.

She took the box in her hands and tucked it under her arm.

"Mr. Lanning, about the rent..."

"You need to head back to the store. Go on, before the sun goes down."

"But Mr. Lanning–"

The dog in the back howled.

"See? They've got Bullet all riled up already, now go," he said and shoved her towards the door.

"But the rent, I..."

"Just give it when you're able, now hurry home, and don't talk to anyone on the street. You never know what they are."

Outside, in the harsh light of day, she thought about her magic and the vampire and how she wished she could defend others as well as herself. She could, she might, well, she'd try.

She took another sip of coffee and smiled into her cup. If every night could be like this; with a steady stream of customers, good sales, and the uplifting feeling she got by lifting the burdens of those around her, she wouldn't need anything else.

Well, she'd get a new rug.

And the chimney swept.

And a new door.

And a new bed. She shook her head. Too much. She could get a mattress topper to make it a bit more comfortable.

And...that was it, right?