Hedy watched as Raluca began to slowly unwrap herself from her black woolen pashmina. The figure under the wool was even smaller than Hedy had first thought. Raluca emerged in a dark lavender Chanel suit, with a string of impossibly perfect and large pearls around her tiny neck that were no doubt real. Her jet-black hair was short and perfectly smooth.
“Miss Vaduva, may I offer you some refreshment? Coffee or tea, perhaps?” Hedy gestured again, this time for Raluca to take a seat.
“I very much doubt you have the type of beverage I would most enjoy. But a cup of tea will do.” Raluca settled lightly into a seat and watched Hedy with a piercing gaze.
“I have not had a Moroaica visit before and the notice of your visit was quite short. If I had known, I could have been prepared with some blood from the butcher.” Hedy was concentrating on the tea and didn’t notice the amusement on Raluca’s face.
“What makes you think I meant blood as a beverage? I was speaking of ţuică, a Romanian spirit made from plums. You clearly have more to learn about Moroi.” The old woman watched Hedy bring the tea pot and two cups to the table.
“My apologies for my ignorance. As I said, Moroi are unknown to me. When I have a traveler come, I like to know as much as I can to make sure they feel most welcome. I’ve made a pot of Earl Grey. Would you like something to eat to go with it?” Hedy didn’t know what, if anything, that Moroi ate so she thought it best to make no specific offers.
“The tea will be sufficient for now, thank you. By way of education, Moroi, such as myself, have both human and vampiric qualities. I eat food, I age, albeit extremely slowly, and I can be out in the daylight if I am well protected. Unlike my parents, who were Strigoi and were created by another vampire, I was born and have many human tendencies. And a few not so human.” Raluca chuckled and accepted Hedy’s cup, waiving off the sugar or cream.
“Thank you for the information. I’ll remember it if I ever have another Moroi come to visit me.” Hedy added a scoop of sugar to her own cup, which Raluca noticed and appeared to judge.
“I very much doubt you will meet another. We are a rare thing. I myself have only met two others in my lifetime, and I was born four hundred years ago.” Raluca took a slight sip of the tea and found it acceptable.
“Well, then I am especially honored to have you visiting my waystation.” Hedy thought she detected a small smile of satisfaction on Raluca’s face.
“I don’t know if you should be ‘honored’ as you say. My visit was prompted by concern at the highest levels of the network. It says much that a tiny town such as this comes under our scrutiny.” Raluca took another sip and then set the cup down.
“How can I alleviate your concerns?” Hedy thought it best to get to the point straight away. What did she need to do to continue to be a waystation?
“We were concerned to hear that two of your guests were involved in a local matter with a petty arsonist. In fact, both of your guests were placed directly in harm’s way and, if the reports are true, the undine almost died. That is unacceptable.” Raluca’s black eyes stared at Hedy with an unwavering gaze. She was here for answers.
“Yes, it is true that the waystation had a situation a few months back. There was a person in town who was kidnapping women and burning down buildings. As it happened, we had a salamander visiting, as well as an undine. Without both of their help, this man would never have been caught. The danger for Anahita, the undine, really came from the toxin used by Lyssa. Are you familiar with Lyssa?”
Hedy still felt strange naming the woman who had caused so much destruction as the goddess of madness and rage, but Lyssa left both in her wake.
“We are familiar with Lyssa. For all her bluster, she is a minor demigoddess at best. She relies on humans to carry out her plans and that inevitably leads to failure. We are not as concerned about her as we are about a waystation that may leave our travelers in danger. Although, I understand that you destroyed her?” Raluca’s question sounded more like a statement of fact, and Hedy wasn’t so sure that was the case.
“We don’t really know what happened to Lyssa. She hasn’t been seen since the night in the cabin when I stabbed her with the knife, but I can’t say for certain that she is gone. As much as I hope that she is.” Hedy took another sip of her tea and she felt those black eyes scrutinizing her every move.
“And how did you happen to have a weapon in your possession that could inflict damage on a demigod? Not exactly a standard item for a bakery, no?” Raluca gave a dismissive wave of her hand to the room at large.
“I have a rather large collection of curiosities, things that I have acquired, and things passed down through my family. The knife is a relic from an ancestor. I didn’t know for sure what it would do to someone like Lyssa, though I did hope it would at least be protection.”
Raluca slowly picked up her cup and took another tiny sip. “Yes, I know of your heritage, Miss Leckermaul. I actually knew your ancestor, Rusalia. She was a flawed individual, but I did feel sorry for her over the loss of the children. It is also a shame that she has become the basis of that ludicrous Grimm brothers’ story about the candy house and the oven.”
Hedy couldn’t believe she was talking to someone who had met Rusalia. There was so much she wanted to know, but there was no way she could ask Raluca; Hedy was answering the questions today. She waited for Raluca to continue.
“As you said, it was Lyssa who scratched the undine and caused the danger to your guest. Though if you had insisted that she and the salamander left when you notified the Concierge that you could accept no more travelers, they would have been out of harm’s way. Why did you not do that? You clearly knew there was danger, or you would not have called the Concierge.” Raluca saw a flash of guilt flit across the woman’s face.
“I did ask them to leave but they insisted on staying. They were very brave and wanted to help me. I probably should have insisted, but to be honest, I am not sure that would have made a difference. They are both very strong willed and were quite determined to stay. I consider them both my friends.” Hedy’s cheeks felt hot and even though in her mind she knew both Ana and Bren chose to stay, she still felt a swirl of guilt flushing her face.
“Waystation hosts are not here to make friends, Miss Leckermaul. They are here to serve our travelers and to keep them safe. You failed in that task. Safety for the travelers is the key to the network; it is why no one knows the locations of all the waystations. No one except myself. Secrecy is how we keep them safe. It is only through good fortune that both of them survived their brush with Lyssa and her human helper. It is now my job to determine if you are fit to continue to host a waystation and I will be spending the next few days determining that. I expect your full cooperation.” Raluca stood up from her seat to her full four feet and ten inches of height. She was tired from her long journey and she wanted to lie down.
“Of course. I will be happy to help in any way I can. Let me show you to a room where you may stay while you are here.” Hedy said, trying to hide the distress rising in her gut. She reached for Raluca’s small valise, but she was waived away. The old woman had strength to carry her own bag. The pair re-entered the hallway and Hedy led Raluca toward the staircase with the wooden thicket gate.
“Spiders, on your Christmas tree. That is something one sees in my country, but I have not seen such a sight outside of the east. Quite unusual.” Raluca said no more as they continued up the stairs toward the second floor.
Neither Hedy nor Raluca heard the pocket door slide open in the hallway where Yami had been quietly listening to their conversation. It seemed she now had something quite interesting to report to Lyssa.
Chapter Seven
With Raluca in her room and the shop already closed, Hedy packed up the special order that was due for delivery while she fretted. Her interview with Raluca had not gone well. Everything the woman had said was accurate, but it was said in the worst possible light, and now she faced the risk of being closed down. It was too awful to t
hink about.
“She wasn’t there, of course it sounds worse now,” Hedy muttered as she boxed up the rugelach she had made for a special order. It was Hanukkah and one of the members of the local social club, The Ancient Order of Rhinos, had called her to inquire if she would make four dozen.
Hedy needed to clear her head and the cool air outside seemed very inviting. She debated walking to the A.O.R. lodge; it was near the high school and she knew the way. But in the end, she elected to drive, rather than risk damage to the pastry. She could always stroll around after she dropped off the treats.
With a plan in mind that consisted of running away for a little while, Hedy bundled up and loaded the boxes into the Corvair. Even just pulling out of the driveway felt good, as if all the tension and worry over the inspection could just be left at the curb. She focused on the road and driving the short distance to the social club lodge.
The members of the Ancient Order of Rhinos was a small, albeit rowdy bunch, with a penchant for wearing fez hats around town. Tonight, they were hosting a members’ dinner to celebrate all the December holidays, and Hedy’s rugelach was on the menu along with plenty of cocktails. The parking lot was full, and Hedy found a spot on the street, requiring her to parallel park, something she hated, but could do, if pressed.
Parked, and with rugelach in hand, she admired the building as she walked to the front door. It was a squat structure with a roof that rose dramatically in the center to a small tower, as if the roof were the shape of rather flattened funnel. It was small but even with its size, the architecture stood out from its neighbors of craftsman style buildings and brick bungalows.
“Chag Sameach. You must be bringing us the rugelach.” A plump lady greeted Hedy at the door.
“Happy holidays to you as well. Yes, I have the delivery; four dozen was the order.” She followed the woman into the entry, and could smell the delicious scents from the club’s kitchen down the hall.
“Excellent. We were glad you were able to make them for us. I could have dusted off my grandmother’s recipe but honestly, I’m just not much of a baker. I’d rather leave that to the professionals.” The woman smiled and handed Hedy a check, which she accepted with a smile.
“Thank you. I hope you like them. Please call me if you need anything else. And Happy Hanukkah to you.” Hedy found herself back out in the cool afternoon air, mission accomplished.
She dreaded going back to the house. She wasn’t ready to continue any more conversation with Raluca at the moment, and even the idea of seeing the house lit up from Darro’s efforts didn’t excite her. Hedy decided a stroll was exactly what she needed to find her peace of mind.
The A.O.R. lodge was at the end of the street and so Hedy left her car there and headed back toward the shops in town. There was no rain and little wind, which meant it was pleasant enough with her coat wrapped around her and the wool hat keeping her ears warm. She walked slowly and without purpose toward the lights in the windows.
As a local merchant, she felt guilty that she didn’t spend more time visiting other shops and making herself known in the community. She was always so busy, either with baking or with travelers, that she rarely found the time to just browse and take in the sights. It was something she really enjoyed doing and she made a mental note to make time for it more often. She passed a few shoppers as she neared the first store and they nodded in greeting; people in the northwest weren’t quick to speak to strangers.
Hedy popped into the first shop, which was selling small batches of lotions, soaps, and bath salts. This was the kind of store she could get lost in, smelling all the amazing combinations and testing out various lotions. She found herself testing a hand creme of cardamom and fig that it smelled so good that she decided she had to have it. She’d also have to make a tart with a filling inspired by it.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? There is a local crafter in Buckley that makes them for us. She uses her own goat’s milk and all the scents are organically produced. The products are currently in BPA-free plastic containers, but she is transitioning to glass, although I suspect that will raise the price a bit.” The salesperson seemed quite enamored of the product, cradling a large bottle of bath salts as she spoke. She either was very passionate about bath products or she worked on commission.
“Yes, I really like this one. I’m going to take the hand creme. In fact, I’ll take two.” She would give one to Mel as a present.
“Excellent. Can I show you anything else? We have some lovely bullet journals that just came in and some hand poured soy wax candles in recycled mason jars from a local crafter who makes his own wicks.” The woman’s enthusiasm was such that Hedy hated to disappoint her, but she really wasn’t in the market for either item, as eclectic as they might be.
“No, I think I am good with just the two lotions but thank you. This is a lovely store. I’ll be sure to come by again. Please give my compliments to the owner.” Hedy waited at the birch wood counter while the salesperson carefully wrapped each lotion in recycled tissue paper and then placed them in a brown Kraft bag.
“Well, that’s me. My name is Kaitlyn. The Owl and Jam Jar is my store.” Kaitlyn tied the handles of the bag closed with a bit of twine and placed the bag near Hedy. “That will be forty-two dollars, please.”
Hedy gulped slightly; she hadn’t looked at the price because she was so enamored with the scent. Apparently, the price for cardamom fig goat’s milk creme was quite high, even in BPA-free plastic containers.
“Here you go.” She handed cash to Kaitlyn, tallying up that the purchase just about wiped out her rugelach money. Oh well, it was amazing lotion.
“Thank you. I’ll slip in a flyer about some events we are hosting in January. We will be having a yarn tasting and a trunk show for the chandler who makes the candles I was telling you about. Of course, we’ll be at the Christmas market this weekend as well.” Kaitlyn spoke in a clipped tone and she briefly smiled at Hedy as she handed her the change. Hedy wondered if the pretty Korean-American woman was even thirty years old; she seemed young to own a shop of her own.
“I will be there as well. I run the bakery on Griffin, the Gingerbread Hag. Perhaps I’ll see you there.” Hedy took the purchase and also one of Kaitlyn’s cards; they were actually printed on a thin slice of wood.
“Enjoy your purchase.” Kaitlyn’s voice followed Hedy out the front door of the shop.
Next door was the shop that Mel had told her about, the Red Bat. Hedy was immediately struck by the window display. The mannequin was wearing a jeweled red circle skirt with a full white crinoline and a gorgeous green angora sweater. It looked like something right out of a Christmas sock hop in the 1950s and Hedy thought it looked wonderful. There were various retro toys displayed at its feet and a large cut out of mistletoe, also covered in sparkles, hanging from the ceiling.
“My kind of shop,” Hedy breathed, excited to see what kind of wares the owner might have inside.
“Good afternoon, Miss. Welcome to the Red Bat.” The man behind the counter was arranging gloves in a rainbow pattern onto a large platter, but clearly his eye was on the door.
“Good afternoon. You have a lovely shop.” Hedy only needed a moment to make that statement; the shop wasn’t like a typical thrift shop, with everything hodge-podge and smelling slightly musty. The Red Bat had things organized by era, by color, and then by size. It was an organizational dream for someone like Hedy.
“Well thank you, Miss. I do try. What brings you in today?” The man’s voice was pleasant with a touch of gravel to it along with a slight accent that Hedy couldn’t place. Hedy detected none of the fake welcoming tone that could be found when shopping. He left his rainbow display and came around the counter, looking very dapper in a pair of pinstripe pants and a Christmas pattern vest.
“I am just browsing. A friend mentioned your shop and she knows my penchant for vintage clothing, so I thought I would stop in. My name is Hedy, by the way.” She felt a little foolish introducing herself, but the
man seemed quite friendly.
“Pleased to meet you, Hedy. My name is Michael, proprietor of The Red Bat. I hope you don’t mind me saying that you have a rather impressive hairstyle. A beehive is one of my favorites.” Michael was moving closer to Hedy, adjusting hangers as he went for imperceptible flaws. Hedy felt her cheeks blush. With his curly, dark hair and blue eyes, he looked quite debonair.
“Well, thank you, Michael. I am a fan of an earlier era and I do like a bit of fun. I thought I would see what you might have that would be appropriate for the Christmas market on Saturday; I’ll be tending a booth there.” Hedy began to follow him as he made his way over toward the clothing under the neon “60s” sign.
“Oh, a fellow vendor. I’ll be there as well, bringing a small sampling in hopes of luring suburbanites out of the chain stores and their Ugg boots. What will you be selling?” Michael was pulling items from the rack, hanging each sideways on a bar so that Hedy could see the selections. Without even asking, he had her size.
“I own the bakery on Griffin Avenue, The Gingerbread Hag. I’ll be there selling my Krampus cookies.” Hedy’s eye was immediately drawn to a gorgeous, red dotted swiss swing dress with sheer sleeves and a high ruffled collar.
“I have heard great things about that shop. My apologies for not coming to visit. Since I opened, I’ve hardly had a moment that wasn’t occupied with getting the shop in the best shape possible. The previous store in this space was a barber shop and I am still finding little pockets of hair in the strangest places.” Michael’s curls shook as he laughed, which made it seem all the more amusing.
“Well, I hope you will come by the shop sometime or visit me at the Market if you have a moment. I’ll even give you a cookie.” Hedy smiled at him, and to her surprise, she really was hoping to see him again soon. There was something quite interesting about him, with his dark blue eyes that had more than a glint of mischief.
“Well, would you like to try any of these beauties on to see what suits you? Personally, I could see you in any of them, but I see you have your eye on the dotted swiss. It’s reminiscent of a Mary Quant design but without the designer price tag, naturally.”
In the Teeth of It Page 5