by LeAnn Mason
Reaching into my pocket, I again grabbed my trusty lighter and flicked it open. “I can make my own light.” A moment later, I’d formed another fireball from a spark and kept it hovering over my palm, my other hand cocked on my hip for a little extra sass.
Face lit from the hovering blaze, Nick stared, not at my fire but me. I shifted my weight nervously as he continued to gaze. The fire’s slight crackle as it continued to consume the oxygen it met was the only sound aside from the occasional owl’s hoot. The cicadas’ song had long since died off as the cold seeped into the forest. Dropping my eyes from his penetrating stare, I looked around. There was plenty of light to see several feet in any direction, but I had no idea why we headed still deeper into the trees.
“Should I be worried that you’re secretly an ax murderer and you’re taking me away from anyone that would hear my screams?” I chuckled lightly to soften the sting of the not-entirely-joking words. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”
“You think I could do that?” His expression resembled an abused puppy with large, hurt-filled eyes and mouth downturned. Then it was gone. In a flash, that cocky grin I knew well surfaced, and the twinkle lit his eyes, a laugh breaking through his faux-affronted face. “No, I just thought we might appreciate some privacy without you coming to my place. Thought that might be a tad forward for a first date, so,” he turned and trudged through the thinning underbrush again, waving at me to follow. “I thought maybe a little picnic would be good…” After another several strides, he stopped at a large blanket strewn across the ground. A metal-looking icebox sat atop its middle.
“You left a picnic chilling in the middle of the woods?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah. Well, I know the animals around here, and I made sure to scent-mark the trees so none came too close. Most things steer clear of bears around here.” He winked, folding his tree-trunk legs so that he sat at the far edge of the fluffy, checkered blanket, patting the side closest to me in invitation. With a quick turn of a nob, a battery-operated lantern glowed to life, allowing me to quash my orb and take a seat.
“Don’t tell me that means you peed on the trees…” Eww.
A booming laugh that resounded off the surrounding forest was my answer, so apparently not.
“No, no. Bears aren’t like the cats and dogs.” He chuckled at his nearly derogatory categorization of the other Shifter species. “We don’t pee to mark our scent… generally. We rub our backs against the trunks and sharpen our claws in the bark. It works rather well.” He puffed a breath onto his curled fingers before rubbing them against his chest. A very cocky move if I said so myself.
Moving on.
“What do you have in there?” I peered curiously over at the cooler, and Nick moved it to rest between us before opening the lid and pulling out the contents.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure, actually. Elsie insisted on packing it for me when I told her we were going out,” he admitted with pinkened cheeks. “Let’s see. Looks like… a pie… milk… and whipped cream…” He pulled out a tin wrapped in cellophane, two small glass bottles filled with white liquid, and a bowl also wrapped in the clingy plastic. Plates and utensils followed. “Looks like pumpkin.”
My mouth watered even before he removed the plastic, but once the sweetly spiced scent hit my nose, the trickle became a flood. I swallowed, wiping my mouth to make sure none of the saliva escaped the confines of my mouth as I waited for Nick to cut a slice and place it on a small plate. Thankfully, he made sure to give me a generous serving; otherwise, I might have mauled him.
No one messed with me when pie was involved, especially pumpkiny goodness. It was my absolute favorite, and I didn’t get it often. The guys only made it around the winter holidays, and it went quickly. Too quickly. Nick’s eyes flicked to me when my stomach rumbled, more than ready to have the pie hit its depths.
“I was worried you would be one of those girls who only ate salad and tofu,” Nick laughed as he went about applying spoonfuls of Elsie’s homemade whipped cream to the top of the remaining pie. He didn’t dish any more out of the tin, just went about preparing the remaining seventy-five percent as if it were a single slice.
“Do you not remember our last outing?” I’d eaten my fair share of s’mores… probably more than. Sweets were kinda my thing, my weakness. I was hard-pressed to pass them by. Well played, Elsie. Well played. “That’s one thing you’ll learn about me. I’m not too worried about perception, especially with food,” I mumbled around a mouthful of pumpkin deliciousness.
“I’m beginning to see that,” he chuckled before diving a fork into his own plate.
“You need someone who can keep up with you,” I laughed. “With what you ate at the diner, and now nearly a whole pie…” I cocked a knowing eyebrow, mentally marveling at how quickly I was thawing around him. I knew though, it wasn’t me. It was all thanks to him. He just knew how to put me at ease. That did not, however, mean that bouts of awkwardness or nervousness wouldn’t surface. It was nice that my mouth wasn’t getting me in trouble though, for once.
That might have been because it was full of pie, but who could say for sure?
“Hey, now, are you calling me fat, Miss Katsumoto?” he retorted with mock indignation. The offended look he wore was so comical I couldn’t help but burst out with laughter. The sound was like a shot in the woods, the intrusion causing the already waning numbers of crickets and frogs to miss a beat while they waited to see where the threat loomed. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the remaining sound, embarrassed but still chuckling.
“I don’t think anyone with eyes would ever mistake you for fat, Mister Bianchi.”
“I dunno. Look at this,” he lifted his shirt and grabbed skin, pinching the folds together. Shaking the bit dramatically, he looked back at me with wide eyes and a crooked grin.
After a moment of stunned silence where I ogled the expanse of exposed tan skin and rippling muscle, I remembered to speak. “That’s all skin, nerd. I bet there’s not more than an ounce of fat on you.” I’d be down for visual confirmation…
“You know how bears operate: load up on fat for winter,” he stated with a smile, shoveling another bite of pie into his maw as if to reiterate the concept.
“Well, you’d better get working on that, Teddy. Winter’s around the corner, and at this rate of fat storage, I’m afraid you’ll starve,” I bat my eyes, voice filled with fake sympathy as I attempted to stifle the laughter that bubbled up at our playful banter.
“Teddy?”
“Yep. You’re just a big ol’ Teddy Bear.” I leaned forward, one hand supporting my weight as I moved to all fours. Reaching out, I ruffled the groomed coif of dark hair atop his head.
“Hey, now, I’m a fierce brown bear, woman,” he chided, pulling his head from my grasp. “Fierce.” It was work for him to keep his lips in a straight line. I could see the tension in his cheeks and the corners of his mouth that wanted to tip upward yet again.
“Oh, definitely, Teddy.” I nodded my agreement. “I couldn’t ask for a better protector.”
“Damn straight,” he responded, satisfied and, once again, dove his fork deep into the mountain of whipped cream-topped dessert. “Fierce,” he mumbled again.
Our allotted “date” time was over too soon. Having been filled with smiles and laughter, I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. Nick packed the now-empty dishes back into the cooler, and I refolded the blanket. He handed me the lit lantern so I could find my way through the dark. He, of course, didn’t need it, using Teddy to channel night vision. Too soon, we were headed in another direction, toward the house I shared with the dwarfs.
“This was fun, thank you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed. I wasn’t sure what you would like. I don’t know enough about you just yet, but don’t worry. I’m remedying that,” he answered cockily, a bit of swagger in his step.
“Oh, are you now?”
“Yep, and I want to take you out again, but I can’t
tomorrow. Rory’s taking his spot as Regent tomorrow night, and all the Shifters are required to attend.” He sounded apologetic, though he didn’t need to. I didn’t expect him to drop everything for me. That would be unreasonable. I knew that.
I may not like it, but I knew it. I snorted at my mental musings. I wouldn’t be that girl.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m excited for Rory. Maybe then, he can get back with Mae. You know, once his mom isn’t calling all the shots.” One could hope. Mae deserved her Romeo and was, quite possibly, the only person who could “tame” him.
“Yeah. So, would you want to do something on Saturday morning? Maybe we can get the gang together and have another bonfire or something?”
I nodded. I liked the idea. A group, especially that group would be good. “Sounds like fun.”
“I think I’ll need to see another sword demonstration though. Maybe once you graduate, you could apply to be a Sentinel.”
“Aren’t Sentinels usually Shifters though? I mean, the ability to turn into an inconspicuous animal is definitely an advantage.”
“There are situations and patrols for any of us,” Nick assured. “There are plenty of times when a fire Mage who has mad sword skills could come in handy.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I conceded, still unsure. Even if that was the case, was I brave enough to take up the mantle? I mean, I’d never done anything.
Except flee. That I’d done.
CHAPTER 8
F riday, thankfully, was busy enough to keep me from dwelling completely on Nick and our agreement about meeting the next morning. The dining room was full, people usually choosing not to cook on the night leading into the weekend. It also happened to be the night when the dwarfs unveiled new specials.
Tonight’s menu was Italian-themed with offerings featuring fettuccine alfredo, chicken marsala, and lasagna. They were selling like hotcakes, making the wait time for meals a bit longer than usual, meaning I had to plaster on my smile and pretend I wanted to be sociable. My lipstick was getting a workout, not to mention several refreshers, during this particular shift.
“Evening, Bianca. How are you?”
“Hey, Sasha! I’m good, how are you? How was school?” That was the other thing about Fridays; I didn’t go to school so I couldn’t keep tabs on my favorite outcast. Sasha was always sent to get meals for the inhabitants of the coven house, usually needing to make more than one trip into the diner to retrieve the entirety of the order. Very few times had I or anyone else assisted her. Gloria and the Witches treated the poor girl like an employed servant, and the times I’d tried to help her early on had only brought more misery upon her after my departure. It had been months since I’d attempted to be a Good Samaritan on her behalf. She hadn’t said anything directly, but the cast of her eyes and the tightness of her body, not to mention the way she’d flinched away from me when I’d tried to put a hand on her, had told the story.
“Is there food for you in this pickup order?”
Her cheeks pinked, eyes dipping toward her shoes, which scuffed back and forth along the worn floor. “Of course not.”
I’d known there wasn’t. There never was, which was why I’d taken to asking. “What sounds good?” I pushed a specials menu at her.
“Oh, no. I can’t.” She said that every week too.
“I insist.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.” Sasha’s words were quiet; meek. I hated that this sweet girl was so beaten down that she wouldn’t even accept a meal from a friend.
Because she was my friend. Whether she realized it or not. Whether she accepted it or not.
“Girl, you know that if you don’t pick one, I’ll pick my favorite for you. Let’s just skip that, shall we?” I gave her my best smile, extra bright, to convey my determination. With a sheepish smile, she pointed a green-tipped finger at the line on the menu that read “Fettuccine Alfredo.”
“Good choice. That’s my favorite.” I tossed a grin at her. “Want some chicken on there too? It’s that much better, promise.”
“Sure. Thank you.” Sasha’s leaf-green peepers finally met mine, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of her full lips.
“My pleasure. Now, let me go get the first batch of the Coven’s order. Yours will be ready by the time you make it back. Can’t leave them waiting now, can we?” Pushing through the door to the kitchen, I rummaged through the to-go containers, making sure the meals corresponded with the ticketed orders. Satisfied that the Witches would get what they wanted, I puzzled the first eight meals into two large bags, one for each of Sasha’s thin arms. There were still several others, and she’d need to make a second trip.
I refused to put all of the coven’s orders onto her for one trip. I’d told Gloria as much after the first time they’d taken their frustrations out on Sasha, that it was my, and the dwarfs’, decision, and if they chose to blame Sasha, they would not be able to order from the diner anymore.
It seemed to have worked. At least, as far as we could tell.
“All right, scurry home now. Then, come on back. I want to know what you think of your fettuccine,” I said, handing off the large bags. With a wave, I watched her push through the door, making the overhead bell chime as her butt led the way. A moment later, her unique form had disappeared. My eyes caught on a raised hand.
One of the diners on the far side of the room was flagging me down. Things were only going to pick up from here. Almost seven p.m., prime Friday night dinner time for the folks of Grimm Hollow.
At least, it would pass the time.
“Did Sasha make it back for her dinner?” I asked Jesse, the bartender, who knew how much later. We had gotten slammed with diners almost the moment Sasha had shimmied out the plate-glass door for the first time, and I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until I’d looked up. As my last table just cleared out, the clock behind the bar had read eight-thirty.
“Yes, she did,” Florian answered, sliding a dessert plate toward me. “She ate. I watched her. Now, it’s your turn.” He jutted his bearded chin at the plate.
“Aren’t you supposed to be advocating for me to eat something of substance?” Smirking, I reached for the present. No way I would be passing up the chance at the offering of warm, gooey, apple pie with the large scoop of vanilla bean ice cream beginning to melt, sliding from atop the drool-worthy mass in an attempt at escape. “Oh, no you don’t.” The admonishment punched from my lips as I chased the fugitive ice cream with my fork, finally stabbing a hunk and going into pair it with the pie in the same bite. “Mmm, so good.”
The diner’s entry bell dinged, announcing a new arrival and an end to my tastebuds’ divine treat. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll be back for that even if it takes me all night.” With one last lingering look at the pie and smile firmly affixed, I pushed from the kitchen to greet the newcomers.
“We’ll probably get a wave of Shifters coming in after the ceremony, so be prepared for some rowdy animals,” Tabbart called as the door flapped in my wake.
“Evening, folks. How are you tonight?”
“Bianca? Bianca Katsumoto, is that you?”
The voice froze me dead, limbs seizing, eyes glued to the little white notepad where my pen’s point leaked blue ink in an amassing blob.
“You know our lovely Bianca?” Hearing Elsie’s voice at my elbow allowed me to break my stare down with my utensil and not look at the woman in question. Why is she here? I tried to smile at Elsie, a woman I’d come to like over the years. I noted her steadfast kind eyes and silvered braids.
“I do. Renauld was her father,” the woman cooed happily, drawing my eye. Her sharp smile didn’t reach her striking eyes which were narrowed ever so slightly as the shrew enjoyed her game.
“Was?” The word caught my attention, and I reflexively jerked my head toward the woman. Beautiful and proud, she wore her brown hair highlighted and in long waves down her back. She wore a beige cowl neck sweater and her makeup perfectly applie
d and accentuating her large almost teal eyes.
I’d never forget her face. Never forget her voice. Never forget her.
Circe.
My stepmother.
Keeping my eyes locked on her, I circled back even as my chest tightened uncomfortably. “What happened to my father?” I hadn’t seen him since that fateful day, not that I’d seen him much before that. Especially once this harpy entered the picture. I still hated the idea of him dying. He’d been kind enough to me on our infrequent meetings, if a little too ability-focused. I think that was probably the reason he’d gravitated to Circe. The fact that she was a total knockout had only sealed his fate.
Circe, like her namesake, was a temptress who tended to turn men into pigs… or sheep. Probably literally.
“My dearest Renault fell ill… and could not recover.”
Damn, she was a fantastic actress. I’d almost believe her if I didn’t know better. As it stood, by the consoling looks sent her way by Elsie and Jasper, the Mage Elder of Grimm Hollow, they were eating it up. Jasper had even reached a hand across the table to where Circe had hers clasped tightly together in front of her.
It was a superhuman feat to keep the epic eye-roll I wanted to perform from actualizing. I’d have to warn them off from her at some point. When I could talk to them alone. Without Circe present. Yeah, like that would happen. Maybe just Elsie. I knew and adored her. Jasper? Not so much. The man was quite intimidating even if he looked like the gentlemen of old with a 1920’s kind of suave vibe about him.
“Yes, very strange that a Mage would fall ill, but alas.” Circe again feigned sadness at the loss with the appropriate tone and going so far as to dab at glistening eyes with her napkin, but I saw the twinkle in them as she turned the orbs on me. “We thought you were dead, had a funeral. Mourned! How could you not tell us you were alive, safe? After coming upon your home, your poor mother, we assumed the worst!” She grasped at the fabric in the vicinity of her heart, or at least her breasts, furthering her acting career even more. “Can I hug you? Make sure it is you?” She scooted toward Elsie, who dutifully moved to stand, freeing Circe from the booth seat.