The Golden Iris

It was a beautiful Winter's day in Lymington. I was rugged up quite tight with at least four layers on. I was feeling extra snug as I walked down the hill, past the old church, towards the market stalls at the end of the road. I looked out towards the giant mountains in the distance and noticed their tops were capped with snow. I made my way down the high street, quickly to keep warm, passing the butchers, bakeries and cafes that lined the road. I passed the old bookstore on the corner, it was teeming with people and I somehow find myself joining the crowd. It was rather warm inside so I shedded a few of my layers. I pushed my way past a group of sweaty teenagers standing in front of the fantasy section, surrounding a table, which I presumed had the latest copy of some dystopian series on it. I heard the tall girl closest to me, twirling her short, green and black hair, say something about how devastated she was that this was the last book of the series. I smiled at myself, my observation skills had been improving as of late, which raised my hopes of someday becoming a detective. It was a long shot, but I still liked to dream of it. I pushed my way towards the quieter, older side of the bookstore. This side was where the historical, reality and mystery novels were kept. My three favourite genres. I had quickly gotten accustomed to the stuffiness and lack of room in the previous part of the store that I found myself surprised that I was breathing my own air. I walked over to the shelf of books that held the mystery novels and bent my knees so that I was in a squat position. I whipped my blue scarf from around my neck and placed it on the floor next to me, then ran my index finger along the spines of the books in front of me. My finger slowed as the surnames of the authors, which were in alphabetical order, entered the 'D' section. My finger stopped on a beautiful red spine, with black cursive down its length. I pulled it out, the cover was glossy and read, 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', in the same black cursive as on the spine. It was gorgeous. The only individual Sherlock Holmes book I didn't have. I pressed the book to my chest with my left hand as I stood up and retrieved my scarf from the ground with my right. I looked down at my find and saw a tall body move beside me out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see who it was. Standing next to me, looking down at the book in my hands was a young man with curly brown hair. He looked up and smiled at me.
"Sebastian." He said, his eyes twinkling. He gave a nod. I looked into his light green-blue eyes.
"Lovely." I responded and walked past him towards the front of the store where the cash register was located.
"Hey!" He called after me. I kept walking and lined up behind a pretty girl with short, red curls. She was holding three books in her arms. I recognised the top one, it was 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'. She noticed me staring at it and looked to the book I was holding.
"Hey, twins!" She said, "well almost." I was so shocked by her talking to me that I almost dropped my book.
"Yes! Twins!" I said quickly, hoping she didn't notice my shock. She smiled at me then stepped towards the counter.
"Hey you." Sebastian said lightly, tapping my shoulder. I spun around. I looked into his smiling face.
"What?" I asked, my annoyance showing more than I intended. He didn't seem to notice. His smile didn't falter, just stayed plastered on there like it had been painted on.
"I didn't catch your name." He said confidently, this was obviously not the first time someone had rejected him.
"That's because I didn't give it." I told him while moving towards the counter myself. Sebastian stepped beside me and looked down at me. I ignored him. I payed the lady at the counter and started towards the doors. Sebastian fell into step beside me.
"So," He began.
"Don't bother." I responded. He stopped, processing what I had just said. He quickly picked himself up and was back beside me.
"So," he continued, "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee with me sometime."
"I don't drink coffee." I stated, so dryly I saw him flinch.
"Well okay, it doesn't have to be coffee." He stepped in front of me to make me stop. "Please?" He asked, raising one eyebrow. I looked up into his face and smiled at him.
"No."
"Could you at least tell me why? Do you not like me?"
"Yeah, not really."
"Well maybe you could get to know me first? Then maybe you might."
"I find that very unlikely." I turned my body to the side and shoved my way past him, into the street. He followed.
"Could I at least know your name?"
"Luce." I said, as I leaned down to look at the moonstone jewellery on the table closest to me; it was of one of the hundreds of market stalls that filled the road. "I'm sorry Sebastian but, how can I put this lightly? You're just not my type."
"Well what's your type? Blonde? Short? Nerdy?" He asked, looking quite hurt.
"Sometimes." I smiled.
"Sometimes?" He asked, looking truly puzzled. "And what's Luce short for anyway?" He was beginning to become quite annoyed by this time. I continued walking through the market place, stopping every now and then at different tables containing various items that jumped out at me.
"Well yeah, I don't really have a type, just which ever beautiful girl I happen to come across, that also has a great personality."
Um, girl?" He asked, slowing to a stop.
"Yes, girl" I said, louder this time, with emphasis on 'girl'. I turned around to face him. "Oh and Luce is short for Lucifer." I stared him dead in the face and flashed my yellow cat eyes at him. I'd never seen a person more scared in my entire life. Fear spread across his face faster than ants spread across dropped food. His legs gave way from underneath him and he collapsed, taking the table behind him down too. He got up just as fast as he'd fallen, and sprinted back up the high street screaming at the top of his lungs. I laughed so hard tears fell down my face, I couldn't breathe for a while. That was definitely the best reaction I had ever received. Being a witch wasn't always easy, but being a metamorphmagus made everyday just that little bit more exciting.