“Yeah, sorry Fleur–it looks like you won’t be able to leave Earth until I figure out another way. Send me a message whenever you want to talk, and I’ll get back to you as soon as physically possible. Good luck with your salt while I’m gone.”
I wait a second for the speech-to-text to catch up, then hit send. A long string of messages–none of which had touched on the actual issue–stretches out before it like a very long receipt. Fleur’s tone, and the fact that she’s still there, made assumptions, but actually putting it to text feels like a small defeat.
Pearl pats the side of my head to comfort me. “She knew there was a chance it wouldn’t happen. Or else she wouldn’t have started a big project right when you were about to go back.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sigh and send my Class Card away after Fleur sends a single ‘thank you, and good luck’ right back. “Still sucks, though. It would’ve been nice to have her company through whatever shit we’re about to get sucked into.”
“Her firepower would also be a considerable addition to our arsenal. Seeing as your other coworkers are dealing with their own issues.” Illumisia cuts in from the other side of the bath. “Though perhaps it is for the best that she has time to grow her power for herself. Turning what was once instinct into a honed weapon is far more difficult than one would think, and to suddenly lose so much power must have been a severe shock.”
“And she almost died; don’t forget that.” Pearl puts her hands on her lap and smiles. “Maybe you’re right; Fleur could use a little vacation from danger to get a handle on what she wants to do. Or maybe she’s super disappointed and can’t stand being away from us.”
I really hope that isn’t true. Fleur’s only been alive for a few years at most, and truly sentient for way less than that. Something changed in her when Ursula and I got to the krarig, and now she’s her own person. Sure, she’s technically my worshiper, but I’m still not really comfortable with that. So I’ll just hope that she has something to really dedicate herself to while I’m here.
Another message notification pops up over my eyes, and with barely a glance, I mentally shove it to the side. Looks like Ursula’s coming into town in a week so she can give me more pills. Which means I get a week of reprieve from that torturous workout regime.
Pearl’s eyes snap wide open, and she squeaks in surprise as she squelches back into her shell. I raise an eyebrow at Illumisia, but she says absolutely nothing in response. Moments later Miss S appears out of the whirl of clouds, brushes off her clothes, and shoots a glance in my direction.
“Supper is in thirty minutes, sugar. Should I put out two extra plates?”
I nod in confirmation. “Yes, please and thank you. It’s a beautiful place you have here, by the way.”
“Oh, it’s nothing compared to the ones back home. Just a little slice of nostalgia in the middle of the city.” She waves a hand dismissively, but the compliment puts a smile on her face and a bounce in her step. “One day, when you eventually go to my homeland, you’ll see what I mean. But until then, you can think of this as a little retreat from all the worries of everyday life.”
She walks up to the kitchen, waves her hand at the glass, and it shatters open for her. With a glance over her shoulder and a small nod she walks right through, the glass knitting together behind her as she makes her way to the stove. I watch her work for a minute as the soothing waters caress my body, until it finally sinks in that her voice carries perfectly through the glass. And so does mine.
“Why can we talk through the glass? Is it magic?”
Miss S shrugs. “Not impressive stuff, but yes. The glass can trap or let anything pass through easily–heat, sound, smells, light–and I can control it very easily. If you watn to change anything, there are dials in the room you can use to adjust the settings.”
“Good to know.” I say with a glance over at the bathroom. At least I won’t have to go with all the world watching. “Oh, right, I should ask–one of my associates hired a messenger a few days ago, and they just disappeared off the face of the planet. Have you heard about anything weird happening?”
“A few days ago… let me think…” Miss S drums her fingers on the countertop as she bends down and pulls ingredients out of a drawer. She shakes her head. “Nothing serious enough that I would’ve heard about it, sugar. If the messenger was from a shady source, you’ll want to look into it on your own. Do you know where they worked?”
I look over at Illumisia. She dips her head below the water, then comes up and shakes herself dry in a violent whirl of fur and teeth. With eye motions at Miss S’ back, Illumisia finally catches on and huffs in annoyance. For some reason.
“Stonestep Solutions.” She says directly into my mind. “That is where they claimed to work, though I do not know if they were being truthful. I did not care to check the veracity of their claim.”
Alright. Don’t know why she was annoyed to give me a vital piece of information, but sure. I parrot what Illumisia said, translated into my own cadence of speech, and wait as Miss S ponders this new information.
“They are known to operate on both sides of the law, but I don’t think they’re in the business of taking money and running.” She eventually says and turns to me with a smile. “Scamming dangerous class-bearers is one way to get permanently shut down, sugar. If anything, I think they’d be more worried that their worker took a payment and skipped town.”
Illumisia growls. “If it is true that they took the payment and ran, they will not survive our next encounter.”
I shudder at the violent aura that rolls off Illumisia like a virulent fog. For the messenger’s sake, I hope they’re just captured and being interrogated somewhere. Pure torture’s the only worse thing than what Illumisia would do to them if that’s not the case.
“Is there any branch you’d recommend starting the search from?”
A sizzle of butter on a hot frying pan hits my ears like it’s a foot away, and the smell of dozens of spices follows immediately after. My mouth instantly starts to water at the foreign yet delicious smell–and then Miss S drops a slab of cream-yellow stuff onto the pan. A strange fruity aroma, like the taste of a durian mixed with strong swiss cheese, cuts through the spices for a split second before they join together in a harmony that’s not like anything I’ve ever eaten before. A yogurt curry is probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to it, but even that pales in comparison to whatever Miss S is cooking.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
She raises a finger in the air, and a sheen of magic coats her hand like a rubber glove. Then she reaches down, presses her palm to the slab of stuff, and spreads the magic over it like one of those metal burger smashers. With a delicate shove the slab squishes down to perfectly coat the bottom of the pan, and as she raises her hand, the magic disappears. For a brief moment, I have to wonder if there’s such a thing as food-grade or food-safe magic.
“There’s a branch just on the outer rim of where you’re allowed to go, sugar. I’ll draw you a map and you can go there when it opens tomorrow.” Miss S spins the pan handle to the inside of the stove, then grabs a second pan and starts to repeat the process. “Just be careful, sugar. You’re strong for your clearance, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there who’ll play dirty to make sure you come up the loser. I wouldn’t want to lose my guest on the first day she’s staying with me, after all.”
A pop and a click, followed by a burst of a sweet scent and a splatter of juice doesn’t even bother Miss S. She just reaches out, grabs the pan, and shakes it twice. Even though there’s now a sizzling stain on the stovetop.
“Just relax until dinner’s ready, sugar. We’ll talk when your belly’s full of thinking fuel.”
----------------------------------------
The strange food is… well… ‘delicious’ definitely isn’t the right word for it. It’s so unbelievably rich and filling, to the point that a single bite of the pancake-like thing topped with sauteed veggies and some kind of rich green sauce is like an entire meal on its own. Illumisia devours it within seconds, Pearl constantly compliments the smell, and Miss S works away at hers like it’s a thick steak.
By the time I clean my plate, the fruity-savory-cheesy taste feels like it’ll never leave my mouth. And, for some reason, I kind of love it. Even if it didn’t taste like the best thing in the world, the actual process of eating it made my mouth feel like it just had a good night’s sleep. Plus, even though it’s got a pound of food in it, my stomach isn’t even grumbling. Energy wells up in me almost instantly, and instead of the coma I usually fall into after such a huge meal, I’m ready to run a marathon.
“That was… an experience.” I say honestly as I set my fork and knife down. “I never knew a meal could feel like waking up after a good night’s sleep.”
Miss S wipes her mouth with a napkin and nods. “It’s not quite medicinal cooking, but traditional Ogean meals always have a purpose. Snacks and deserts are the things you truly enjoy. I baked a delicious pie a few days back–would you like a slice now, or do you need some time to let the meal settle?”
I pat my stomach, fully expecting to decline her invitation, but I don’t feel disgustingly full. “What kind of pie is it?”
“Candied sunfruit in airy cream.” Miss S says proudly as she stands and walks to the fridge. “You Earthers call it ‘whipped cream’, I think. But nobody’s ready for just how bright the taste of sunfruit is. Are you up to the challenge, sugar?”
A pie? A challenge? “Pfft, no desert’s ever challenged me. Unless it’s got bugs in it. I can’t eat bugs.”
Miss S pulls out a pie with a crust as dark as toasted graham crackers, and since half of its gone, I can see a shimmering yellow-orange filling that’s struck through with lines of whipped cream. She closes the fridge with her heel and makes her way back to the table, sets the pie down in the middle, and draws a finger empowered with magic down the crust. It flakes and splits easily, and within seconds, she places a piece on my somehow perfectly clean plate.
I lick my fork clean, but it already tastes like nothing. She watches with rapt attention as I push through the crust, feeling the flaky crust give under my utensil and the filling squish ever so slightly before giving way. An unbelievably sour yet sickly sweet burst of scent punches me in the face, and I physically flinch away as Miss S holds back a laugh.
Illumisia doesn’t even try to hide her barking laugh, and I shoot her a withering glare that does absolutely nothing. I bring the fork down close to her, and halfway through a sniff she yelps in surprise and scrambles away.
“Told you.” I say with smug satisfaction and bring the fork to my mouth. “See you on the other side.”
The crust hits my tongue first. It’s crispy, flaky, and has a buttery and slightly bitter flavour that reminds me of really good dark chocolate. I savor the sensation for the moments before the piece flops to the side and the filling hits my tongue.
Unbelievably sour gel spreads over my taste buds like a low-lying lemon juice fog. But the flavor is strangely bright–closer to a pear mixed with a blood orange–though the sour cuts through everything like a knife. I swallow involuntarily, and then chew a few times as my eyes start to water. Then, suddenly, the flavor changes completely.
Milky, sugary sweetness hits the sour like a freight train. There’s a moment where my brain doesn’t quite know how to react to two completely separate flavours actually fighting for dominance. I stare off into the distance as they struggle for supremacy, slowly melding together from two completely separate entities into a single flavour that’s really hard to describe. It’s sweet, sour, a little bitter, and unbelievably bright and airy. I let it sit in my mouth for a second, swallow the rest of it, and instantly go for a second bite.
Miss S’ lips twitch into a grin as I devour the rest of the slice. “Looks like you’re one of the good ones.”
I raise an eyebrow and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “What do you mean ‘good ones’?”
“Oh, just a little old welcoming ritual from my homeland.” She cuts herself a piece, then sits back down. “The real flavor of the pie doesn’t come out until you let it sit for a moment–if you spit it out before the flavours settle in, then tradition states that you can never really be trusted. But if you give it a real try, even if you hate the flavour, then you’re given a chance. Personally, I prefer if my guests like the taste, but I can’t fault anyone who doesn’t.”
She gestures at Illumisia with her fork. “Like your companion there, who has a very heightened sense of smell. I can’t blame her for her body rejecting something with a very pungent scent. Though with how she obliterated her supper, I bet she’d love some of this.”
Illumisia shakes her head vigorously. “Do not let that woman make me eat the pie. I will murder the both of you if you attempt such a vile transgression.”
I laugh, much to Miss S’ confusion, and push my perfectly clean plate away. “Thanks for supper. Now, you know something more about the people I hired than you’re letting on. Why bother waiting?”
Miss S takes a bite of pie, then sets her fork down on her plate. She eyes me up and down, stopping for a moment on my bite marks that could pass as tattoos, and I can see hesitation in her eyes. Even when she looks away, there’s a hint of reluctance that brings her eyes right back to my bite marks for a fraction of a second.
“Before I say anything, I want to know how you got those marks.” She says seriously.
I point at Illumisia. “She bit me. Magic filled them instead of scars.”
“...You’re serious.” Miss S stares at Illumisia, then back to me. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you, sugar?”
I nod. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Miss S blinks, then shakes her head with a short laugh. “I guess I don’t have a good answer for you there. Give me thirty seconds to finish my pie and I’ll tell you why Stonestep Solutions is something you really shouldn’t be sticking your nose into if you’re not unbelievably confident in your abilities.”