“Then go, wench! Rip your beautiful self away from me and leave me yearning for your touch,” Kipa said, throwing his hand across his forehead. He squinted at me from below the shade of his arm. “Is it working?”
“Oh go on, fly.” I swatted him lightly. “You’re just being a drama queen now.”
“Drama king, my love,” he said, laughing. “I’m your king, and you’re my queen. So is it working? Won’t you stay for a while?”
“No, it’s not. Though that bulge pressing against my thigh is tempting. Now, get your handsome ass back to work. I’ll be home in a while.” I pressed against him for another long kiss, then broke out of his embrace and headed for the door. “And don’t give Raj any more sugar. You two gorged on waffles this morning and you used up the maple syrup. That’s enough sugar for now.”
“We had sausages and eggs, too,” Kipa called behind me, but I shut the door, ignoring his protests.
As I headed toward my car, my breath froze in puffs in front of my face. It was thirty-one degrees, and there was snow on the ground, as well as patches of black ice on the road. As I slid into my car, I was grateful that Kipa had put on snow tires a week ago when the snowstorm was first predicted. And one glance at the clouds overhead was enough to know that we weren’t done yet. The sky shimmered with that silver frozen look that whispered “incoming snow.” Not a big fan of heat, I welcomed the winter weather.
As I pulled out of the cul-de-sac, I waved at Meadow O’Ceallaigh and her brother, Trefoil, who were building a snowman in their front yard. My neighbors—we lived on opposite sides of the end of the cul-de-sac—worked for LOCK, the Library of Cryptic Knowledge. They were in the paramilitary side of the organization, though I wasn’t entirely sure what they did. Their work was classified. Both were gay, and they were friendly, but they also maintained an aloofness…a certain air of “You’re better off not knowing about us.” They waved back, laughing.
The trip to the store proved to be more hazardous than I anticipated.
People were slip-sliding everywhere. Nobody in the Seattle area knew how to drive in snow. Beyond the fact that snow wasn’t a regular event here so there weren’t enough snow plows to effectively clear the city streets, the topography of western Washington didn’t lend itself to navigating snow and ice. A number of streets both in Seattle and here, on the opposite side of Lake Washington, on the Eastside, had anywhere from an 18 percent grade to a 21 percent grade. Basically, Seattle was built on a series of rolling hills, thanks to the fault lines in the area. So snow and ice meant conditions that were nearly impossible to navigate.
At the store, I found a cart. We were out of most everything so I tossed whatever looked good in the cart, along with a variety of staples including pasta, breads, eggs, milk, and any number of canned goods and jarred sauces. I also added a number of delicacies and found what looked like an incredible fifteen-layer chocolate peppermint torte. I picked up five of them, given that everybody coming had hearty appetites. I was planning on making a huge vat of clam chowder for dinner, and decided that fish and chips would be a good addition, so I added several boxes of premium battered fish, a couple big bags of frozen fries, and French bread that I would smother with butter and parmesan.
Because I felt guilty for yelling at Raj, I added a case of cat food to the cart. He loved it and I kept it for special occasions since he tended to eat more of it than was good for him. He usually ate what I was eating, unless it had onions or garlic or peppers in it—or pineapple. Pineapple made him sick. But I knew he didn’t care for fish, so cat food it was.
After one last stop at the flower section to buy several bouquets of red roses with white carnations, baby’s breath, and fern fronds, I checked out. I glanced at my phone. 1:35 p.m. I had time enough to run by A Taste of Latte to buy some pastries and a triple-shot mocha. I needed more caffeine like I needed a hole in my head, but with caffeine, want mattered as much as need.
By the time I got home it was almost two-thirty. I stepped out of the car, about to summon Kipa to help, when he came darting out of the house and motioned for me to go inside. The temperature had dipped again—it was now twenty-nine and a few flakes were starting to fall. I shivered, but Kipa, who was originally from Finland, had no problem in the cold. In fact, he loved it.
“Go inside and warm up. It’s supposed to start snowing heavily this afternoon,” he said, motioning for me to head out.
I entered the house and paused. Every surface of every table gleamed. The floors were freshly washed and mopped. There was no dust anywhere, and everything had been put away. The air smelled crisp and clean and it was obvious they had aired out the house. The soft sound of the washer running told me that Kipa had started a load of laundry.
Raj was sitting politely on the sofa, watching TV, a bowl of popcorn by his side. He glanced up as I came in.
“Raven’s home! Did Raven bring food?” He had such a plaintive note in his voice that it made me want to pinch his cheeks and indulge in baby-talk with him, but I restrained myself. His cadence might be odd, and while he liked TV shows targeted toward children, he was a deeply intelligent being who happened to have a gargoyle’s perspective on life.
“The place looks wonderful,” I said, smiling. “Good job! Raj really helped Kipa out. And yes, Raven brought food. Raven’s mother should be here soon, so Raven’s very happy that the house looks good.”
Raj grimaced. “Will Raven please stop Phasmoria from making Raj try to sit at the table for dinner?”
Last time she was here, my mother had gotten the idea that, since Raj was actually intelligent and not a pet, he should sit properly at the table during mealtimes. I had let it go a couple times until it was obvious that Raj was uncomfortable. I had promised next time she tried to make him sit in a chair with a napkin tied around his neck, I would put a stop to it.
“Phasmoria won’t make Raj sit in a chair anymore when he’s eating,” I said. “Remember, Raven talked to her about that several weeks ago? If Phasmoria forgets, Raven will remind her.”
“Raj thanks Raven.” He went back to watching his show. He had switched loyalties from Acrobert and the Alphas to Captain Ghost—a cartoon about a ghost sailor superhero who sailed the oceans, helping people avoid pirates. Raj had a deep, abiding love for cartoons and comics. They made him happy, and that’s all that mattered. He didn’t like opera or ballet, which suited me fine. I liked The Nutcracker, and I would occasionally watch a play, but I had no love for opera or the symphony.
Kipa carried in the groceries. “Everything look good?”
“Everything looks perfect,” I said. “Thank you.” I followed him into the kitchen and started putting away food as he brought in the rest of the bags. As I was debating on whether to put the apples in a crystal or a china bowl for the table, I suddenly felt dizzy. It was as though something blew past me so fast that it spun me around.
“What the hell?” I muttered, looking around. I closed my eyes and reached out to see if any ghosts had come through, but my wards were strong and nothing was in sight. I kept the house and my car heavily guarded, given the run-in I’d had with Pandora.
While the Elven therapist I was seeing had helped me move past the PTSD, I remained wary. The chaotic goddess was still out there. I had thwarted her plans and her fun by escaping her torture chamber. While I wasn’t sure she’d be out for revenge, I didn’t want to take any chances on leaving the door open for her to waltz in.