Page 12

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Randa refused to be hurt by the Light Phases snubbing her hospitality. She no longer gave other people enough power to hurt her. She just had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

“I’ll just make food for me, then.” She decided mildly.

“When are these flowers you’re worried about getting delivered?” Rye asked, filling the awkward silence.

“They’ll show up around six.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure.” Grandmother Viola would have agreed that Randa had done enough to be cordial. “If you want to wait, you can sit in the living room.”

Not even they could evade that order. The house wasn’t very big. Their only other options were the two bedrooms, the one bathroom, or the kitchen. They reluctantly sat down on her cream-colored furniture and began eating what looked like jerky.

Randa breathed a sigh of relief that they were finally staying still. “I’m hungry, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

She flicked on TV for them and tuned it to one of her four channels. She disliked spending human money on things she didn’t need, so her television wasn’t smart, and she didn’t get cable. She didn’t need those extras to watch her favorite program, anyway.

“I hope you like reruns of Antiques Roadshow.” How could they not? It was the height of entertainment.

“What’s Antiques Roadshow?” Kahn demanded, as if he was still expecting a trap. He was cramped into an upholstered chair, making it look like it was the size of dollhouse furniture.

The man really was… massive. If Randa was the kind of woman who was attracted to huge, muscle-bound barbarians, she might have admired the intricate tattoos encircling his thick forearm, or the way his tawny hair hit his broad shoulders, or the unparalleled width of his chest.

Luckily, she was much smarter than that.

“Antiques Roadshow is this.” Randa pointed at the TV.

In almost comical unison, the Light Phases’ heads tilted, regarding the show with hypnotized wonder.

On screen, a human woman was explaining she’d found an ugly vase in a dumpster. The appraiser assured her that the ugly vase was really a stunning example of something-or-other and very valuable. The woman couldn’t believe it and said so. Repeatedly. A graphic popped up, telling the audience that the ugly vase was worth between twelve thousand and fifteen thousand human dollars. Then, the entire process started over again with an ugly painting.

Randa wondered if she should start searching local dumpsters for twelve- to fifteen-thousand-dollar vases. She could certainly use them. With her luck, though, all she’d find was rats.

Sighing, she went back to the kitchen. Cooking was the only area of her life where Randa felt she had real skill. Most Air Phases had no respect for culinary endeavors, looking down on anyone who so much as turned on a stove. But Hekktor had liked cooking and taught her how. Now, she practiced her skills with as many human ingredients as she could afford.

On Sundays, Isaacs came over and she made a big meal for them. The rest of the week, there didn’t seem much point in preparing large dinners just for herself. It wasted human money. Randa was far too practical for that. She would need all her savings for her new home, wherever it might be. Usually, her dinner was a bowl of microwaved soup.

Usually.

She began piling ingredients on the counter, topping off the stack with one of the T-bones Isaacs liked. It was supposed to be dinner on his next visit, but he wouldn’t mind if they had pot roast instead. So long as it was red meat, Isaacs was happy.

The smell of grilling steak soon filled the small house.

The Light Phases morosely ate their jerky, watching her cook. Randa was not a woman who smirked. It showed poor breeding. Still, it was hard not to take some small measure of delight in the annoyed muttering emanating from the living room.

“What kind of animal does that meat come from?” Daven asked after a while.

“A cow.” She added more butter to her steak.

The Light Phases regarded her with a total lack of comprehension, and Randa realized they had no clue what a cow was. “They’re large, four-legged, herbivores with spots.” She explained. “Very delicious.”

More muttering.

“Isn’t that the animal the Fire House is always plotting against?” Daven wondered.

“The Fire House plots against everything.” Mannus retorted. “Who can keep it all straight?”