Author's Notes:
A little less satisfied with this chapter, but here it is.
Chapter 3: Eggie Carnage
I eyed the grey skies from my porch as I sipped from my steaming mug of tea, flashing the words "fuck off" in big black font printed on the bottom of it every time I tipped it to my lips.
It was a chilly morning that brought the promise of the first snow of the season. Cold enough that the hardwood of my floors felt like stone under my toesies when I arose about forty minutes ago, so I donned my dragon onesie that had a matching set of slippers to look like big green stylized reptile feet with purple claws. Better still, I found a dog sized onesie version of it online that I stuffed Arashi into. No, he doesn't mind. Fun fact, he gets excited to be dressed up because he knows treats are coming. I've already given him some freeze-dried liver, which he goes nuts for. I've had to start locking them up to keep them out of his thieving paws.
The fact that I was wearing my onesie meant it was time to start switching on the furnace at night. And the fluffy-white-stuff promised meant it was time for Vetrnætr, though it's not a full moon as tradition calls for, but the new moon was only a few days away, which was good enough for me.
Tonight, I'd bust open the mead I have been saving since my last visit to my father's estate in Iceland. I had already texted my siblings, wishing them a good winter season when I woke up to the atmospheric shift with the winds that brought the crisp scent of snow. I may have also been gossiping with my sister Thyra about my neighbours, more specifically the old fae I've begun to really enjoy being around, when he wasn't being a grump. Something he seemed to be less and less every day since he repaired the majority of my damaged roof well over a week ago. Or was he never actually as cranky as he appeared, and we were simply getting to know one another? I may have to tell Tad that he was right.
Since breakfast the morning I caught him on my roof, he'd greeted me nearly every time we spotted one another, even going out of his way to chat with me about nothing at all. I don't do small talk, but I honestly didn't find myself minding at all with him.
He was an interesting fellow, relatively laid back since being on amiable terms. Even now, as my gaze drifted downward from the skies to my neighbour, squinting at me from his truck as he was about to leave to head to the automotive repair shop, following his son, who left ten minutes earlier for WSU (Washington State University) and his new job as the local Alpha's daughter's protection while she attended uni. A perk of the job was that his tuition was paid for so he could attend the school with her. Jesse was a personal friend to him, and his girlfriend, Izzy, also attended. A real win-win for him.
Watching Siebold from here, I could make out the upward tilt of his lips, so I purposefully lifted my mug to take a long, slow drag of warm tea, making sure he got a good look at the print on the bottom. I found he seemed to enjoy my teasing and questionable brand of humour as much as Tad does. Like father, like son.
"Charming." He drawled, abandoning his truck to make his way over.
I grinned, moving to meet him at my gate. "That's me. I am beauty. I am grace. Just call me Princess Charming." Earning a scoff from my neighbour, his eyes roaming over my figure. Or rather, my choice of outfit.
"There are many words I could use to describe you, Ketta. But prinzessin? Certainly not. Clearly, you are der drachen," he said, stopping just shy of the iron barrier between us.
For a moment, my breath caught, and my eyes sharpened at his words until I realised he was making a reference to my onesie. I relaxed, but not before I caught his own reaction at mine. It was subtle, the slight lift and lowering of his brow before it smoothed out again, but I saw it.
I shrugged both inwardly and outwardly, "Maybe, but why can't I be all three? A princess, a dragon, and charming to boot." I grinned, lifting my mug for another purposeful swig.
Siebold hummed, a typical noncommittal man sound. "I could use one of those."
"Which? A princess, a charming dragon, tea, or a lovely Fuck Off cup?" I asked. "Or," I continued, "a charming princess dragon, with a Fuck Off mug of tea?"
"The mug," he clarified with a hint of humour.
"Ah. Well, it's the only one I got. You'll have to fight me for it." Cheap thing I got from a dollar store when I first moved in.
Huffing a laugh, he says, "A fight I'm sure I'd lose."
Would he, though? That thought has my mind wandering, following a daisy chain of questions about my fae neighbour and most of them, if not all, I shouldn't ask. I don't know enough about this man aside from the fact he is old, powerful, and has an affinity for metal. He managed to repair most of my roof in a matter of hours. Without an air compressor to drive in the nails more efficiently. How many fae could do that? Not many, that's for sure. Really, it does narrow the list of possibilities down, as I couldn't think of any off the top of my head.
Could I call it a list if nothing were on it?
I smile and shake my head. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'm a hair puller in a fight. And you..." I gesture to his slightly balding head with a wicked grin. If it wasn't glamour, I wouldn't have teased him about his thinning hair. I've seen Tad a couple of times without his glamour, revealing a rather fetching young lad with purple cat's eyes and pointed ears. If I hadn't known his mother was human, I wouldn't have guessed he was anything but a full-blooded fae. How much did he look like his father, I wonder.
As I meant him to, a burst of laughter bubbled up out of his throat. Something I was enjoying doing in his company is breaking his usual scowl and getting him to laugh.
A bitter breeze blew then, pulling back my hood, whipping my hair around annoyingly. Reminding me of a couple things. One, it needed a trim. Two, the promised snow.
"Snærr." I say, trilling my R in Old Norse with the short A, rather than the long in of more modern Íslenskaði as a subtle test.
One that he passed. It wasn't just Icelandic he knew, but its predecessor, dǫnsk tunga. Meaning "Danish tongue," and what the Norse commonly called their language.
Lifting his gaze from my face skyward with a breathy "Ja. Smells like it." I tilt my head to watch the low rolling wisps of cloud move with the winds, wondering if I should continue with my plans for coq au vin since I already have chicken marinating in a whole bottle of burgundy pinot noir and cognac. Could it wait another day? Probably. Did I want to put off another day in favour of something more traditional from my homeland? Nope! Maybe I'll make some bread to go with it, something to soak up the sauce. Oh, maybe a dessert. Yes, cake sounds delicious!
"Does it make you miss it?" he asked softly, but vaguely.
"What?"
"Does snow make you miss Iceland." He clarified.
"Ah. Definitely. There are times I find this place... stifling. But I tend to feel like that everywhere I go, after a while. The snow is bittersweet for me, and I do go home now and then to my father's house."
"That, I understand."
"Do you miss your homeland as well?"
He shrugs. "Not typically, no. I, too, sometimes find the snow similarly bittersweet." As he says this, there is a warmth in his eyes and face as he looks down on me that I don't quite understand, but I can't help returning it with a smile. It's nice having someone to share such things with. Tad, sweet, young lad that he is, wouldn't really understand, having been raised here in this time and place. After living so long, travelling so far, one can feel so very lost, like being adrift in a sea of time. You look for places to anchor that feels right, which are few and far between. Finding another long-lived sailor can be like finding a long-lost friend. Maybe he felt the same way?
Except he didn't know just how old I was, did he?
The soft warmth in his expression turned cool once again as he cleared his throat. "Ja. I'm off before clients start showing up to a closed shop." He said, pulling away.
"Go. Fix cars. Carpe diem!" I wave him off. "Schönen Tag noch!" Wishing him a nice day in German felt like the thing to do.
"You as well, Ketta." He said while he climbed into his truck, returning my wave as he drives away.
I literally had everything I needed to bake a Black Forest gâteau or several small ones, I was undecided, including a jar I stuffed full of sweet cherries and Kirsch. I'm not a heavy drinker, in fact, I rarely imbibe. Most of my booze ends up in my food, where the alcohol is usually cooked out, leaving only the flavours. But one might look at my collection of liquor and wonder if I had a problem. Tad asked about it while he was foraging in my butler's pantry.
Booze, flour, chocolate, and everything else I needed, I had. Eggs? I was down to one. I was certain yesterday there were at least three. This led me to believe my sweet Arashi has been helping himself to whatever was in the fridge and managing to clean up after himself... unless he was eating them whole like a snake. I wouldn't put it past him. Regardless, it prompted a trip to the Grocery Outlet with my rollerskates as it was not far from my house. And as everyone does, I bought more than I intended to and left without getting what I went for in the first place, so I had to turn around and try again.
Backpack full of my goodies, and a couple of tote bags in each hand, I round the corner of the pavement that lines my property, slowing when I see a familiar fancy Ferrari, gleaming from its chrome accents to its candy-apple red paint.
It would be a shame if someone were to spit on it, I mused to myself as I rolled to a stop at my iron gate, wondering where the owner of the Ferrari was. That was answered quickly when he stepped out from behind Zee's house, making me squint, my figurative hackles raising at his trespass. With great effort, I said nothing and opened my gate as if he wasn't there. Trying to beat him senseless would be, well...senseless. But it sure would be satisfying.
"When will he be home?" The stranger asked without preamble.
Turning, I closed the gate behind me. While iron might burn him if he touched it, it certainly wouldn't stop him from simply hopping over, to get to me. Though I can't deny the more primal part of me wanted him to attempt it. Then I could rip him limb from limb and claim it was self-defense, and Zee or Tad couldn't be angry with me, right? Break his currently straight-looking nose. Bruise his blemish-free pale skin. Give him a black eye or two would sure make his baby-blues pop. Pow! Right in the kisser.
Catching myself from fantasizing about all the ways I could hurt this guy, I shifted my gaze from his smirking lips to his cold eyes. "Like what you see?" He asked, misinterpreting my perusal of his face for interest.
"EH." I shrug. "Not my type." Which was true. Pretty boys don't do it for me. Especially when I know it's all just a façade.
I found myself picturing Zee with his old-world, rugged face and how he didn't mind looking like a man who had seen a lot of years. A man who lived under the sun and worked hard. I still stand by what I told Tad, though. He looked a lot like Till Lindemann. This guy? The only word that came to mind was 'fop'. From his slicked back chocolate locks, groomed face, custom tailored suit, and some pair of shiny fancy leather shoes I couldn't be bothered to know the name of. It was all well and good to look like a bit of a dandyman, but Zee's warning that he was dangerous was something I was not about to dismiss based on his appearance.
"Pity," he said. A hollow word if ever I heard one. "Not going to nail me today?" Was that an innuendo?
"Unfortunately," mine was definitely not an innuendo, though he chuckled as if it was.
"Now, you live beside the smith. When will he be home?"
"I'm not his keeper. I'm his neighbour. " I reply flatly, filing the mention of 'smith' away for later.
He pursed his lips, clearly discontented with my answer. "As his neighbour then, you should have an idea of his schedule."
"Not really." Did he truly believe I'd tell him even if I did know?
"Fine. When you see him, give him this." He then produced a business card with the flick of his wrist, like a cheesy stage magician, and held it out towards me.
"I said I'm not his keeper."
"Isn't it your neighbourly duty? To pass on a message, gather one's mail, or perform other rudimentary tasks."
"I doubt you know anything about being neighbourly."
"Perhaps. But let me tell you, it'd be in his best interest that you passed this onto him." He said, having me wonder if that was a threat. "And yours." He then added, which was indeed a threat. Yet, I still made no move for the proffered card. Instead, I took the opportunity to suss him out since Siebold had been annoyingly unhelpful and tight-lipped.
"What do you want with him?"
"That is none of your concern. As you said, you aren't his keeper, only his neighbour." He retorted.
"Ah, yes. But I am a noisy neighbour."
"You mean nosy?"
"That too. I'll let him know you dropped by if you tell me what you want and who you are."
He regarded me coolly but thoughtfully. As a fae, he couldn't resist bargaining. "Give him this card, tell him to contact me, and I'll tell you who he is."
Damn. I was certainly more interested in knowing who Zee is, rather than this fop. But making any sort of deal with him would be stupid on so many levels. Unfortunately, my curiosity was slowly winning my internal debate. The only thing stopping me would be the fact I knew Zee wouldn't be happy if I made a dotty deal with who just might be the devil, for all I knew. Especially to learn what could be personal information. Though more likely, he'd just tell me Zee's full name, or at least the one that I already knew. Tricksy little buggers, the fae.
"Tell me who you are, and I'll show him the card."
Unphased, the stranger turned his gaze towards my home. "Lovely house. You've done a good job with the roof." His cold irises slid back to my face as my jaw clenched. Another threat, I had no doubt, though more heavily veiled this time. "Take the card."
Biting my tongue to keep from spewing all the venomous things I wanted to say to the bastard, I transferred my bagged groceries to one hand so I could snatch the bit of paper, careful not to touch his skin. Flipping the card from front to back. "It's blank." I deadpanned.
"Give it to him." was the last thing he said before crossing the street to his vehicle. I watched as he climbed in, dipping with his weight before he closed the door.
I turned to carefully roll my way up the stone pathway to the porch as he revved his engine, when I felt it... again. Another wave of magic heading for me, but far less intense than the first time. It wasn't until the cloth of my bag split and my groceries spilt out around my skates like the innards of a piñata, that, I realised it wasn't meant for me at all. Not physically, at any rate.
While most things were either packaged or tough enough to survive the fall, my eggs were not.
"Rassgat!" I spit at the asshole as I shove the paper in the back pocket of my jeans, leaving my intact bag on the grass to snatch up the paper carton.
I managed to lob several cracked eggs, two of which hit their mark before the jerk drove off, fucking laughing as he passed me, yolk smearing across the windscreen with the help of his wipers.
Luckily, I bought two dozen, and there were, in fact, some survivors among the eggie carnage. Though the survivors didn't last as they ended up in my cake batter and a wash to brush over my bread.
I had, after a short debate with myself, decided that texting Tad what happened was the best thing to do. This led to six missed calls because I had a habit of leaving my phone on silent and face down. It was only happenstance that I left it face up this time near my work space as I worked on a second batch of rolls when I saw the screen light up.
"What's up, Teddy?" A nickname he didn't much care for but has accepted.
"About freakin' time, Thora. I've been calling you for twenty minutes!"
"I'm baking, and my hands are covered in flour." I explain calmly.
"When aren't you." He sighs. "When you send a parcarious text about a strange fae hanging around that's previously knocked you from a roof, do not, I repeat, do not ignore your phone!"
"Sorry, Teddy." I was apologising more for upsetting him than leaving my phone.
"You are okay, though, right? He didn't come back?"
"I'm fine. Everything's fine. And no, he didn't." I paused, thinking for a moment. "If that was a concern, then why the fuck are you calling me and not at my do-" before I finished, the melody of my electric doorbell had me looking around, confused by the sound because it was rare anyone came to my house aside from Tad. I think maybe I've heard it a handful of times since it was installed, and two of them were because I rang it myself, wanting to hear the tune. Hedwig's theme, cute jingle.
"-or" I finished, then raised my voice. "Let yourself in, smarty-pants!"
"Thora, I'm at campus..." Tad said calmly from the speaker. My head snapped towards the sound of my front door opening and the clomp of boots on the hardwood floor of my foyer.
I completely forgot he wasn't at the shop with his father, and the drive from WSU was roughly half an hour. He might make it in twenty minutes on a really good day if he wanted to risk a ticket. But he still wouldn't have rung the bell.
As I pushed my senses outward to get a feel of who entered my home, I pulled out my expensive gyuto, just in case. Thinking better of possibly damaging my Japanese chef's knife, I quickly swapped it for a less expensive Henckel just as Zee came into view.
"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph!" I exhale.
"Should be dad." Tad chirped unhelpfully.
"Yep, it is," I said, sliding the blade back into its respective place. "A heads up would have been nice. I was ready to stab a bitch." At that, Zee snorted indignantly.
"You have about as much of a chance with that little knife as you did with your bat, Ketta." He says. "If you don't know who is at your door, you shouldn't invite them in." He added.
I opened my mouth to reply as Tad spoke up. "I think she thought it was me, Dad. And he's right, Thora, don't go inviting evil in." He said while I closed my mouth and pointed at my phone and said, "That."
"Though," I continued. "In hindsight, I don't remember the last time Tad used my doorbell, let alone knocked. Obviously, I wasn't thinking. Also, is that what I just did? Invited evil into my house. Zee, are you evil? This is an evil-free zone. You may come in, but you have to check your evil at the door." While Zee stared at me with a blasé expression, I was pretty certain he was entertained by me and didn't like showing it. Which may be that was the real reason he kept hanging around. Not quite so profound as lost ships in a sea of time but I'll accept it. I was a fucking riot sometimes.
"You told me not to. You said it was annoying and pointless." Replied Tad.
"I know. And I stand by that." Hands back on my dough, I pull off a piece to roll against the countertop under my palm until it formed a nice ball. "You were over here so often. You were getting bloody knuckles from knocking." I jest.
"I was pretty sure you just didn't want to get the door anymore." I could hear his snicker through the speaker.
"Eh." I shrug, rolling another bun to place with the others.
"Got to run. I need to get to my next class. " Without a proper goodbye, he hung up.
"Alrighty then..." Turning my gaze to look at Zee, still in his oil-stained blue coveralls. He must have dropped everything to get here so quickly. My heart squished a little at the thought of him doing that for me.
... or did he do it so I couldn't be used against him by another fae? A less endearing thought, but ultimately, the fact that he was here did speak volumes.
"Tell me what happened," he demanded softly.
As I went over it from when I saw the car, to when it was leaving with new eggie decorations, I wiped my hands on my old linen apron before pulling the card that had been burning a hole in my back pocket since I stuffed it there.
"He said, and I quote, 'It'll be in his best interest that you'll pass this onto him.' " I said, mimicking his tone, holding out the card between my index and middle finger across the island between us. As he reached for it, I curled my fingers away with the card, causing him to pause a moment. " 'and yours,' he said," I added, straightening my fingers again, only for half a second. As his digits neared, we pulled away from each other simultaneously at the sudden rush of magic that was dormant until its intended target was within range. Or that was my guess since I didn't sense a blooming thing from it until now.
Quickly, I throw the offending paper into my sink and crank the water on high directly above it. "Fuck," I hissed. "Did it touch you?" I turned back to Zee, who I expected halfway across the room to be as far away from the spell as fast as possible. I jumped when my arm brushed his chest, he was that close.
"Nien." He growled. "Are you hurt?" Taking my hand in his rough and calloused one to inspect it, turning it this way and that.
"I'm fine. Just feeling stupid. I should've thrown it away." Or burned it. I should have checked it more thoroughly earlier, testing it for magic beyond the surface. "I'm sorry."
"No, Ketta. You couldn't have known." Which might have been a sweet, more comforting gesture if I didn't actually know better. But I did.
"His fae, and I'm not an idiot. Not usually anyway. I knew something was up when I couldn't see anything but a blank card." I groused, using my free hand to turn off the tap. "Think that did the trick?"
Gently releasing my fingers, Zee reached for the card to peel it off the wet bottom of the fireclay sink. This time, he didn't pull back. I couldn't quite tell by the furrow brows and the frown he was sporting if he could see anything or not. "Well?"
"Seems to have." He mumbled.
"Does it say anything?" Apparently, that was the wrong question. His face shut down, and he tucked the card away in his coverall pocket. "Nothing for you to worry-"
I cut him off with a hand held up. "I'm going to have to stop you right there. First, I definitely will worry about a fae poking around our houses and making threats. Second, don't patronise me, old man. I'm more capable than you think."
He regarded me then, eyes half-mast and lips pursed in thought, before he finally said, "It's best you stay out of it, Ketta. Regardless of your capabilities."
"You might be old, but Ég ætla að taka þig í bakaríið!" I growled the old but effective threat of an ass whooping in Íslenska - Imma take you to the bakery. In answer, Zee called my somewhat-bluff by folding his arms across his chest, arching a single brow, daring me to follow through.
Cheeks puffed out with air, I threw my hands up. "You're lucky I like you."
He harrumphed with a false grumpiness ruined by the twitching corner of his mouth. "I could say the same."
"Oh? Enough to tell me who the guy is and what he wants?"
"I like you enough to tell you to stop sticking your little nose in other people's business. The less you know, the better. Stop asking."
As much as I wanted to continue fighting him for some answers, I knew I wouldn't get anywhere with this bullheaded man as things were now. I had other means of gathering information anyway.
"Fine." I say, dismissing him and returning to my rolls.
He stood, silently watching me from behind before he moved around to the front of the island once more, still eyeing me with suspicion. Wordlessly, he slid my phone across the counter to pick up.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to give you my number." He mutters as he taps away at the screen. I watch him, hoping he doesn't snoop. The last thing I needed was him finding my digital library of smutty books. "So you can text me if he shows up again."
"You think he will?" I asked. Finishing my last roll, I placed it on the tray with the others and throw a tea towel over top and set it aside for a second proofing before sprinkling a dusting of flour down on my work surface and scooping out another dough batch from the bowl it had been rising in, slapping it on the counter. Kneading and working out my frustration on the dough. When he said nothing after a minute or so, I looked up to meet his grey eyes, expecting irritation along with his perma-scowl, but neither were present on his face. Instead he was simply watching me. It was kind of... unnerving.
"What?" I asked, looking down at myself and then back up when I saw nothing unusual other than the mess I've made. "Do I have flour on my face or something?" I brushed at my jaw with the back of my hand, feeling for grit.
He didn't blink, just squinted a bit before he shook his head. "Nien. There wasn't. But there is now."
I used my shoulder this time to attempt to clean my cheek, rubbing against the fabric of my short sleeve when Siebold clicked his tongue and reached across the island to do it for me. His thumb was rough against my skin and smelled of metal, oil, and fire, it felt warm and kind of nice. I found myself enjoying his attention and allowed his digit to linger. He paused after the first brush of his pad, and then slowly, more firmly, he stroked my cheek a few more times until he seemed satisfied and pulled back as he said, "better. Much better."