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I blink some more. I am rarely the one taken off guard.
Finally, I manage to blurt a word. “Duck.” And then a string of words follow. “From one of the finest Parisian restaurants, famous for the dish. I’ve been going there for. . . many years.” Centuries. At least some establishments among these mortals have staying power. “With olive tapenade, a cheese plate, and the finest Beaujolais.”
She just continues staring at me pleasantly, our eyes making contact in a way that continues to unsettle me. I look away first, breathing out heavily as I begin to pull the food from the bag. The wine is nicely chilled.
Lo-Ren comes near. Closer to me than people usually like to stand.
“Wow. It all smells delicious. This is actually really nice. And I love wine and cheese.” She sneaks out a hand and grabs a slice of cheese, popping it in her mouth as I pour wine into the goblets at the table.
I want to ask her why she didn’t run. Or at least try. I know it would have been futile, but humans have never been known for their excellent logic skills. Their instincts are barely above that of animals. Freeze, fight, or flight. I’ve seen it a million times in battle. When faced with fear, those are their three instincts.
But then another thought stalls me. Is she truly not afraid of me?
Who is this creature?
Is she somehow as mad as me?
“Why are you grinning at me like that?” she asks, pausing with another piece of cheese halfway to her mouth.
“No reason,” I say and pull out the last entrée. Using utensils on the table, I transfer everything from cardboard boxes to the elegant tableware Abaddon told Kharon to buy for his bride.
It truly was a lovely little wedding at the start of summer, and I’ll admit it stirred my jealousy and made me decide it was time once and for all to find a consort for my very own. If even the Thing could find a female companion, then surely it would be nothing for me to do so, parasite or not.
I grin at my Lo-Ren as our feast is laid out before us. Ah, but one last detail to make it perfect.
Pointing my finger, I use a couple of runes to light the candles standing in the middle of the table.
Lo-Ren gasps. “I’m not sure I’m gonna get used to that any time soon.”
I scoff. “That is the least of my skills, and that is what impresses you?”
She shrugs. “Well, the flying was sure. . . something.” Her eyes widen at the last word, and she lets out a little laugh. “I gotta say, when I woke up yesterday, I certainly couldn’t have imagined that I’d be sitting in a castle having a Parisian dinner with a god today. The universe, she’s got jokes.”
I lift my glass. “To the universe.”
She half-nods, half-shakes her head. “To the universe.”
Then, we both take bites of the succulent duck. Her eyes immediately go wide again as she chews. Will I ever get used to how expressive her face is?
“Holy shit,” she says after swallowing. “That’s so fucking good!”
I smile at her pleasure. “I told you they were famous for the duck. They’ve had quite a while to perfect the recipe.”
“What’s a while?” she asks, immediately cutting into another bite. “How long have you been ordering from there?” Before lifting the fork to her mouth, though, she takes a sip of wine.
I laugh at the way she phrased the question. “They’ve certainly had some staff changes, but I’ve been going there since they opened in 1582.”
She coughs, spitting out some of the wine. “What?” She coughs some more, lifting her napkin. “Did you just say you’ve been going since—”
Oh, I am having fun now. “1582. It’s the oldest restaurant in Paris, at least that’s still around. So as I said, they’ve had some time to perfect the recipe.”
“Holy shit.” She lifts the wine goblet and drinks far more than a sip, her wide eyes on me the whole time. “I mean, I’ve always had a thing for older dudes.” She wipes her mouth again with the napkin. “How old are we talking here?”
I grin. “What is it you mortals say? Age is just a number?”
“Yeah, and we know even when we say it that it’s bullshit,” she says. “So, how old?”
I shrug. “I genuinely couldn’t tell you. Kingdoms rise and fall. My brothers and I remain.”
