Hours passed. Oz sweated over the furnace, brewing antidote after antidote. Rather than sticking to the same recipe, he tried every recipe in the books, modifying them as he went. Black, burned pills piled up beside him on his left, but to his right, the bottle of successful antidotes slowly filled. At last, his stomach grumbled.
Oz pushed away from the table, letting out a huff. “That’s right. I was going to feed Fflyn.”
“You should do that,” Linnea muttered.
“Linnea, you any good at cooking?” Oz queried.
“I prefer my meat raw, thanks.”
Okay, yeah. That tracks. He looked around. “Do we have any actual ovens? I feel like I shouldn’t cook and make medicine in the same furnace.”
Linnea glanced around. She pointed at a large, potbellied black appliance built into the wall. “Over there, maybe?”
Oz wandered over. He flipped open the latch at the belly to reveal a deep, dark recess. Wood already sat beneath the oven, ready to burn. “Can you light that for me?”
“Can’t light fire?” Linnea asked derisively.
“It’s hard for me. All my qi is blue. That is, wood-elemental,” Oz explained.
She snorted, but stood, crouching over the stove and holding her hand out to the wood. A fire lit on the logs, and in a few moments, it burned merrily.
“Excellent. Then, give me a few minutes…”
Oz scurried off to retrieve Aisling’s supplies from the cold realm. The dry goods laid on the floor nearby, still tightly wrapped. He grabbed cheese, bread, and butter.
I’m no executive chef, but I can make a mean grilled cheese. If I have to cook it in the oven, so be it. It should toast the bread all the same. Right?
After days of eating rough-cooked fish or those nasty fasting pills, it’s not going to take much to get this kid drooling. And what kid doesn’t like a grilled cheese sandwich?
Hell, what adult doesn’t like a grilled cheese?
He cut slices from the bread, buttered them, added thick slices of cheese, then found a pan and popped a half-dozen into the stove. Ten minutes later, he popped the sandwiches onto a plate and walked off, snatching a spare cloth to cover the plate as he went.
“See ya, Linnea. If I don’t come back, get out of the library quick.”
“You know what? I’m coming with you,” Linnea said, hurrying after him.
At the door, Oz took a deep breath. He shifted the plate to his Creeping Darkness hand and lifted the tattoo, pressing at the symbols. A gold barrier shimmered to life before him, thinly coating the surface of the door. He twisted the knob, opening the World Door.
In the near distance, a small figure whipped around. Fflyn charged toward the door, his eyes burning with viciousness.
Oz stood there, waiting.
Silver flashed in Fflyn’s hand. He swiped at Oz.
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Gold sparked as his dagger bounced off the barrier. His hand deflected back toward his face. He stumbled back, startled.
“Hi, Fflyn. How’s it going?” Oz asked, giving him a cheery wave and a big smile. He drew back the cloth, revealing steaming-hot, melty grilled cheeses. With aplomb, he lifted one and took a big bite, letting the cheese pull nice and long, those delicious strings long and trembly. Toast and melted cheese filled the air with a warm, earthy, creamy, salty scent. Oz chewed slowly, closing his eyes to fully enjoy it. He swallowed and let out a big, satisfied sigh. “Yum.”
Fflyn stared at him, stone-faced, unmoved. “What do you want?”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want.” Oz lifted the grilled cheese and took another big bite. Melty cheese welled up from the edges as his teeth sunk through the toast.
Fflyn’s eyes locked onto the oozing cheese. He swallowed. His face remained expressionless, but his hands clenched. “I don’t want those sandwiches. I have fasting pills.”
“You don’t? Then I guess I’ll go ahead and go back.” Oz began to shut the door.
Firm, Fflyn stared at him.
Oz waggled his brows, continuing to swing the door shut. Doesn’t hurt me if you decided to act tough. It drew nearly to a close. Only a sliver of the grassland remained visible.
“Wait!”
Oz opened the door again. “Can I help you?”
Fflyn swallowed. He looked at the sandwiches, then scowled. “Give me one.”
Tsking, Oz waved his finger. “Where’s the magic word?”
Grimacing, Fflyn spat, “Please!”
Oz nudged the plate through the barrier, sliding exactly one sandwich into Fflyn’s reach. Fflyn snatched it up and gobbled it down nearly in the same breath. His eyes shut, and he trembled, fingers digging into the sandwich.
I don’t know if it’s that good… well, but then, he’s been starving for three days, only staved off by fasting pills. Anything would taste like heaven right now.
Fflyn eyed the remaining sandwiches. He licked his lips.
“Want another? I’m happy to let you out of there. You just have to promise to join my side, and keep your eyes out for my enemies. What do you say?” Oz offered.
“Never,” Fflyn spat, unhesitatingly.
“Well, okay.” Oz took another sandwich, then pushed the plate through. “Go ahead. Take the rest. I can’t eat this many, anyways.”
Linnea stared at him. “What? But he just told you—”
Oz lifted his finger to Linnea. He smiled at Fflyn. “Go on.”
Fflyn gave him a look. “There’s something in the sandwiches.”
“Delicious cheese.”
“Why are you giving them to me?”
“Because you look hungry. I’ll keep you fed. I’m not trying to kill you,” Oz said. He shrugged. “I’m not the most experienced chef, but I can manage the basics.”
Fflyn gave him a look. “What do you want from me?”
“I told you.”
“And I told you I won’t.”
“Then in that case, I want you to stay alive and grow well.” Oz wiggled the plate, gesturing for Fflyn to take it.
Regarding him with suspicion, Fflyn backed away. “Everyone wants something. No one gives anything away for free.”
“That’s a shitty way to live. I’m really giving you these for nothing. If you don’t want them, ignore them.” Oz knelt, leaving the plate on the ground on the far side of the barrier. He stepped back.
Fflyn looked at him, then at the sandwiches, then back at him, brows twisted in confusion. “I…”
“They’re delicious, right? No need to hold back.” Stuffing his second sandwich in his mouth, Oz shut the door.
In the golden plains, Fflyn stared at the sandwiches. His hand clenched and un-clenched. His stomach grumbled.
A small bug wandered onto the plate. It waggled its antennae at the sandwiches.
Like a lion, Fflyn leaped. The bug flew off, startled. He fell upon the sandwiches, scarfing them down in a few moments.
And then he sat there, staring at his own reflection in the plate. Fflyn frowned at himself. “I don’t understand…”
--
The second the door closed, Linnea rounded on Oz. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching a kid a lesson about unconditional care. You don’t always need to pay to get something.”
“Yes, you do,” Linnea insisted.
Oz shook his head. “You don’t. You really don’t, Linnea.”
A knock sounded at the door. Oz sighed. He tossed back an antidote and whirled for the front door. “Look at that, Linnea. We have guests!”
Linnea furrowed her brows. Her lips thinned.
Oz glanced at her. What does that mean?
She caught his gaze and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
I feel like it isn’t nothing. Taking a deep breath, Oz grabbed the front door handle. Behind him, Linnea subtly faded back from sight.
The door creaked open. Bright sunlight blazed in, gleaming off armor and polished leather. A sword hurtled toward Oz. He stumbled back, startled. It paused, the point inches from his nose.
“Hand over the demon. Now.”