In the Teeth of It

by K A Miltimore

  “Well, it looks wonderful. Your mother made a good choice. I will definitely have to go check out that shop. Once you are settled, we are working on German gingerbread today for the Saturday market.”

  Mel stashed her coat and cap on the rack and hid her backpack behind the front counter. She found her apron on the hook by the kitchen doorway, and after a thorough hand scrubbing at the sink, she was ready to work.

  “I had a visit from Ren this morning. Sounds like there is trouble in his world.” Hedy shared the story of the attacks on the farms as she mixed the ingredients in the bowl.

  “People around here take those kinds of attacks seriously. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are fox traps all over their land by nightfall. Ren will have to be careful.” Mel watched as Hedy took the sticky mixture and turned it out on a large sheet of plastic wrap, carefully wrapping it up into a large disk for the refrigerator.

  “That is Ren’s fear, and he wants me to help stop it. I honestly don’t know what I can do for him. There is no way I can go to one of these farmers and tell them a fox told me that they didn’t do this, so please don’t set traps.” Hedy was ready to combine the ingredients again for another batch and she demonstrated to Mel as she spoke. They would likely need five full batches for the market.

  “Unfortunately, fox hunting season runs from autumn into the early spring. There is no legal reason why they can’t hunt them, if they think they are a danger.” Mel had family members who had small farms and she was sympathetic to the destruction that a creature, such as a fox, could cause.

  “Well, I told him I would try to think of a way I could help. I really don’t know what I can do, but I will keep my word.”

  “My uncle owns a small farm on the edge of town. I’ll ask if he had any issues and see what I can find out. If nothing else, maybe we can at least find out what measures they are planning to take so we can warn Ren.” Mel started melting the butter, sugar and honey on the stove, giving it all a stir as she mirrored Hedy’s actions. They would have the five batches prepared and chilling in no time.

  “Thank you, that definitely would be helpful. I’ll ask Alice to keep watch while she is out and about; perhaps she will see something that might be of help as well.” Even these small plans made Hedy feel like she was keeping her promise to the fox, and she felt better about it all.

  The landline telephone interrupted their thoughts with its sharp ring. Hedy had a rotary phone and an old answering machine as her communication tools. She knew she would eventually have to move to a smartphone, but she didn’t like the idea of having the telephone always at her side.

  “That ring always startles me. It sounds like something out of an old movie.” Mel found the phone hilarious and even more so that Hedy hadn’t transitioned to a more modern age, especially as a business owner. She hoped to help Hedy with her first computer before she left for college in the spring.

  Hedy wiped her hands quickly and grabbed the receiver before the second ring was done.

  “Good morning, The Gingerbread Hag. How can I help you?” She never liked the sound of her voice, especially on the phone.

  “Is this Miss Leckermaul speaking?” The voice on the other end had a thick French accent. She knew immediately that it was the Concierge.

  “Yes, this is Miss Leckermaul. Waystation 1167.” She guessed that the Concierge was calling her about another traveler.

  “Waystation 1167, you will be receiving an inspection. Prepare for the arrival of Raluca Vaduva. She will be at your waystation by the end of the day.” The line clicked off and Hedy was left holding the receiver, looking at it in wonderment.

  “Who was that? Do we have an order?” Mel watched Hedy hang up the receiver and walk back toward the counter.

  “No, that was the waystation Concierge. It seems we are going to be receiving an inspection.” Hedy wasn’t quite sure what to make of the revelation.

  “Oh, is that usual? What is it that this person inspects?” Mel had come to terms with the concept of the waystation; her girlfriend was one of the travelers who used them as safe harbors as she journeyed from place to place.

  “No, it’s quite unusual. When a waystation opens for the first time, there is a local inspection by the nearest waystation host. In my case, because I had apprenticed in New Orleans, when I moved to Portland and opened my first waystation, the host from southern Oregon came up and signed off on the house. It is rather an informal thing, just checking that the facility is up to standards. After that, waystations are left to their own devices, unless there is a problem.”

  Hedy wondered if the recent issue with Lyssa had caused the Concierge to be concerned about the safety of her waystation.

  “Did they tell you who is coming? Do you know them?” Mel thought Hedy looked worried, which seemed surprising for something as simple as an inspection. Everything in Hedy’s house seemed just right to her.

  “Yes. Raluca Vaduva is coming. I’ve never met her - no one that I know has met her; I think that she is high up in the Concierge management. They are not just sending a host to check on me. This is serious.” Hedy couldn’t imagine why someone like Raluca Vaduva would be coming all the way to Enumclaw to inspect her waystation. Would she be shut down? Permanently?

  “Well, what can we do to get ready? I mean the house already looks great, so I don’t know that there is anything left there, but whatever you think we need to do today, just say the word.” Mel had started on another batch of dough, now that she had the knack of it.

  “No, we don’t need to do anything other than go about our day. She’ll be here soon enough and then we’ll see what she says. Oh, I should probably warn you, though.” Hedy watched as Mel’s face started to blanch. “If rumors are true, Raluca is a bit unusual looking. I don’t want you to be startled when you see her. By all accounts, you’ll know her the minute you see her.” Hedy started working on her own dough, hoping the routine would calm her nerves.

  “What does she look like?” Mel wondered how much more unusual could this Raluca be, compared to Hedy’s own rather striking appearance.

  “Well, again, I have only heard rumors. But Raluca is a Moroaica, and because she is so long-lived, she will look quite ancient. She’s also very short. Or so I am told.” Raluca Vaduva was something of a mystery, rumors and stories about her were known throughout the network. She sounded like quite the formidable woman.

  “What’s a Moroaica?” Mel tried to say the word carefully, unsure exactly how to pronounce it.

  “I’ve heard differing origins, but the one I believe is the one I learned in New Orleans. A Moroaica is a female mortal vampire, the child of two Strigoi - undead vampires. Legend has it that the Moroi live long lives, but they are mortal, and they do not need to feed on humans. How that works exactly, I don’t know. They are incredibly rare, at least that is the rumor. But we don’t need to fear Raluca. They wouldn’t send her if she was a danger to us. At least I hope that is the case anyway.” She had never encountered anyone like Raluca before, so she was going on faith.

  “Well, and here I thought this was just going to be a boring Thursday, making cookies and reading up on linear algebra. Imagine instead meeting an ancient mortal vampire, coming here to inspect your house. Crazy.”

  Mel was laughing but she meant what she said. It was crazy to her that such things happened all around her and she had no idea before. It’s like she had been asleep and now suddenly awoke to a world where everything was inside out.

  “Like I said, don’t worry. Whatever Raluca wants, she will be dealing with me. If you can help me get the gingerbread ready for the market, that will be a big help. Also, I think the tree might be dry enough now to bring into the house, so I’ll need some help getting it into its stand. It’s just another Thursday.” Hedy chuckled and worked on her batch of dough, getting it wrapped up in the plastic wrap. One more batch and then into the freezer they went for an hour or so.

  Whatever the day would bring, she’d deal with it as it came. Ev
en if that meant a mortal vampire.

  Chapter Four

  As much as the visit from Raluca was on her mind, Hedy scarcely had time to think about it. Thursday was shaping up to be a busy day. Tonight, there was an event out at the tree farm near Mount Enumclaw and it seemed many parents wanted treats to bring along. Mel and Hedy were kept busy filling orders for Krampus cookies, peppermint bark brownies, and bags of reindeer kibble, which was just Hedy’s name for chocolate dipped pretzel bits covered in sprinkles. The morning was fast becoming the afternoon and they hadn’t even had time to set up the tree.

  “Is it alright with you if I leave a little early today? My family is going out to the tree farm tonight; we are meeting up with my uncle and my cousin, Dylan.” Mel knew Hedy wouldn’t refuse such a request.

  “Of course. Sounds like fun. Will there be caroling and hot cider out there?” Hedy had never gone to a tree farm for her Christmas tree. She had either lived in a city and found a lot on the corner, or she had tromped out into the woods and found one. The idea of growing a crop of Christmas trees amused her.

  “Yes, and a hay ride and a maze. My cousin is twelve and he loves the maze. Personally, I hate them. Plus they are never very hard to figure out.” Mel’s mathematical mind found mazes an easy challenge, but she didn’t like the slight claustrophobia that they induced.

  “Well, have a marvelous time. Be sure to take some treats to share with your cousin. We might actually have a pause right now if we want to get the tree set up. I can work on decorating it tonight, assuming there is time before Raluca arrives.” Mel and Hedy went to the porch to get the tree and found Darro working in the yard; Hedy hadn’t expected to see him again until next week.

  “What brings you here, Darro? I thought we were on maintenance mode now for the garden?” Darro came up to the porch when he saw them both come out.

  “Good morning to ye both. I thought I would swing in and set up a few snares in your garden today. There has been a rash of fox attacks out on the farms and since the blighters have caused such damage to the hens, we should do our part to catch them.”

  Darro was surprised to see both Mel and Hedy gasp.

  “Oh, Darro, no. We need those snares taken out right away. No traps in the garden, please. This yard needs to be a haven for those who need it.”

  “A’right, I’ll do as ye ask. But foxes are predators and they might strike your own cat if given the chance. Ye don’t want to encourage them to take up residence. They are no better than vermin, Hedy.” Darro thought that for two sensible women, they seemed awfully worked up at the thought of snares for creatures that would kill chickens. Hedy’s own neighbor had a small chicken coop just a few doors down. He shook his head at the foolishness.

  “Please take them out right away and we’ll agree to disagree on the merit of foxes. Thank you, Darro.” Mel and Hedy looked meaningfully at each other, and Darro scratched his head before heading back down the stairs. It must be another strange situation in this house; the whole lot of them were radge in Darro’s opinion.

  “As you say. I’ll hop to it. Do ye need a hand with the tree?” The women had it by the trunk and were lifting it toward the front door.

  “No, I think we have it. The snares are the priority. Thanks for the offer, though.” They wrangled it inside and shut the door behind them.

  “Pure radge, the pair of ‘em,” Darro muttered under his breath as he set off to undo all the work he had just done.

  “Well, that was close. I’m glad we saw him setting those up,” Mel spoke through a face full of fir needles. The tree was large and quite a challenge to move through the hall without striking any of the curios that lined the walls.

  “Yes. I’m sure he meant well, but he definitely should have checked with me before setting those up. Even if this situation with the foxes wasn’t happening, I wouldn’t have wanted those snares set up, if for no other reason than Zelda likes to go out hunting in the garden.” Hedy could well imagine the rashing she would get if Zelda found her tail nipped in a trap.

  The women managed to walk the tree toward the back of the hall, where Hedy had the stand set up to receive it. It was definitely a large tree, probably larger than any Hedy had decorated before, but it suited the size of the hall well. They lifted in tandem and managed to get it set into the stand. Luckily, Hedy had purchased a more modern stand that allowed for an easy tilting to make sure the tree was centered straight. After only a few twists of the securing rods and a few directions of “more to the left” from Mel, the tree was straight and braced.

  “Perfect, thank you. Don’t you love that smell? Fresh trees have such a delicious smell. Puts me in mind to make some juniper coffee cake, with a bit of cranberry glaze. Thank you, Mel. I never would have been able to get the tree in by myself.” For some reason, this year Hedy seemed to be finding herself in situations where being alone would be a hindrance. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell her something.

  “No problem. It may take me a bit to get all this sap off my fingers, but it is a gorgeous tree. I’m excited to see what you do with it.”

  The bell tinkled before Hedy could share her plans for decorations. It was probably for the best; the tree would be better seen than described.

  “Oh, what a lovely tree. Smells just like a tree farm in here.” Mrs. Wilson came toward the shop, meeting Hedy and Mel at the doorway.

  “Good to see you, Mrs. Wilson. I hope the grandchildren are doing well.” Hedy enjoyed seeing Mrs. Wilson on her trips to babysit her grandkids. She always stopped to bring them treats.

  “Oh, yes, they are quite excited for Christmas. They are on their best behavior, what with the Elf on the Shelf watching them.” Mrs. Wilson saw the blank look on Hedy’s face and explained. “You know, the elf that arrives after Thanksgiving and keeps an eye on the kids, reporting their behavior to Santa? Surely, you’ve seen those dolls at the store?”

  Hedy shook her head. She could say with certainty she had never seen any kind of elf sitting on a shelf.

  “I bet most parents rue the day they brought the elf into the house. They have to keep thinking up clever settings and treats all December for the elf to surprise the kids. Sounds like a ton of work to me.” Mel wasn’t trying to be bah-humbug about the elf but who needed that kind of pressure. Wasn’t an old advent calendar with the daily chip of chocolate good enough?

  “I’ll have to check into this; I only know the Nisse from Scandinavia, with their adorable gnome hats and long beards. In fact, I probably have a few scattered in the hallway that I picked up from a trip to Oslo a few years back.” Hedy went behind the counter and picked up an empty box to fill with treats for Mrs. Wilson.

  “You always are so quirky, Hedy, with your style and your strange collection. I swear you are like something out of another place and time. A veritable fish out of water.” Mrs. Wilson laughed and handed Hedy the money for her goodies. She couldn’t imagine being so out of touch with everyday things. Mrs. Wilson took her box and with a “Merry Christmas,” she was out the door.

  Hedy said nothing, yet Mel could tell that Mrs. Wilson’s words had upset her. “For what it is worth, Hedy, you aren’t a fish out of water. Most of us have things we like that aren’t what other people consider typical. How many teenagers my age do you think read Algebra for fun?” Mel herself had many times felt like a fish out of water with her classmates but she didn’t want to compound the situation by telling that to Hedy.

  “It’s okay, Mel. It isn’t the first time someone has called me quirky when they really mean weird. And you know what? I am weird. I am a strange person to anyone looking. I mean, not too many people today are sporting a beehive hairdo, collecting macabre relics, and talking to animals. Come on, let’s just be honest.”

  Hedy placed the trays back in the case and went over to the large copper tureen for hot water; she needed a cup of tea.

  “So, what if all that is true? What makes weird somehow bad? I think weird is wonderful. Certainly, Anahita could be cl
assified as weird, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.” Mel started wiping down the already clean counter for something to do.

  “As I said, it’s alright. I’m not about to go changing myself now; this is who I am. Every once in a while, it stings a little to be so obviously reminded that I am often on the outside looking in. But that is neither here nor there. We have to get things wrapped up for the day so you can get out of here and enjoy the tree farm. And I have a visitor to prepare for.” Hedy had the pot filled with water and she added several scoops of a mixture of fragrant tea leaves.

  She wished she had taken the opportunity to learn to read the leaves when she lived in New Orleans with Delphine; she could use a bit of insight into her future. She would have liked to have called Delphine for advice, but they hadn’t spoken in years.

  “Okay, Hedy. I have the donuts ready to bake and we have a full stock of peppermint bark and reindeer kibble. What’s next?”

  Hedy gave the pot a swirl and then wrapped it up in a sweater cozy to keep it warm while it steeped. She wished she could share with Mel what she was feeling, the sense of dread and unknown that seemed to have settled into her heart. She refused to burden Mel with her worries, whether they were founded or not. Mel was so happy these days. Instead, she smiled.

  “If you can play some Christmas music on your phone, I could use some help making rum balls. After that, go enjoy yourself.” Mel nodded and the two set to work.

  ✽✽✽

  The last of the rum balls rolled and placed on trays, Mel headed out the door, leaving Hedy with her thoughts. Whenever she was feeling uneasy, Hedy usually would try a new recipe. Today, she thought perhaps she could keep tweaking on her scones to see if she could impress Darro. Surely something in her library of cookbooks would have a hint as to what made Scottish scones unique.