Page 37 of Deadly Avarice
I stared at the faded recipe, trying to make out the sketchy print. It was my grandmother’s potato soup recipe. I’d told Franklin I wanted to try cooking for us tonight and was beginning to think my aspirations were foolish. “Does that say one cup or half a cup of shredded carrots? Wait, why does potato soup have carrots?” I stared at the carrot in my hand and felt like a fool. It wasn’t like the carrot was going to answer me, and if it did then this whole potato soup expedition was doomed.
Grandma Boone passed away when I was seven. While, overall, I remembered her fondly, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. I knew Momma’s mother loved me. Momma wouldn’t have stood for her remaining in our lives if she didn’t. What I also knew was that Grandma Boone struggled with my species. Momma had no idea I was sitting in my room, the door cracked, when Momma told Grandma Boone about the first soul I’d brought back. Of course, at the time, I’d had no idea what I was really doing or the reaction pulling Jefferson Dillman’s soul back from beyond the veil during his calling hours would incite. Needless to say, his family wasn’t pleased. Horrified would be a more fitting description.
As for me, I’d just been confused. Everyone had been so sad. Like the naïve child I was, I thought his family would be pleased when I brought him back from the beyond. I’d expected hugs and joyous thank-yous. What I’d gotten were screams, women and men fainting, and Momma hurrying me out of the funeral home.
My eyes watered and I blamed it on the onion I’d started dicing, adding it to the large pot. A few chicken bouillon cubes, salt, pepper, and water to cover the mix and I was on my way to a hopefully edible homemade dinner.
The wind whistled outside. It still wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been in Chicago last month, but it was chilly and still damp. That was the way of late fall and early winter. It had seemed like a good soup day, and I’d wanted to try my hand at something that didn’t come from a diner or can. Grandma Boone’s potato soup sounded like heaven. I pulled out a pre-made loaf of French bread to go along with it. My cooking aspirations only went so far. Baking a loaf of bread was a bridge too far.
My phone pinged with a text from Franklin and I wondered if I’d ever stop stupidly grinning when his name popped up on my phone.
Leaving work now. Be there in less than twenty, Franklin’s text said. I responded with a heart emoji on his message and set my phone back down. The TV was on in the living room but I had it muted while I listened to the radio. Swaying my hips to the beat, I stirred the soup and inhaled the aroma.
Scooting around the kitchen in my socked feet, I felt the edge of my left foot tap something and jerked back when that something rolled over my foot.
“Holy fucking shit!” Spoon in hand, I leaped back from the stove, my heart hammering away. I was shaking with adrenaline when my eyes finally registered what hit my foot. With a growl,I yelled, “Aurelia! Where the fuck are you? You better not have ditched the furball here.”
“I am in what you call the living room. I do not understand the purpose of having the picture box on with no sound.” Aurelia’s voice was muffled, growing stronger as I marched through the kitchen on my way to the living room, stirring spoon still in hand.
“When did you get here?” Aurelia’s hamster rolled across the kitchen, heading for the living room. Its little ball changed sounds as it went from the tiled kitchen floor to the wooden floor in the rest of the house.
“Time has no meaning to me, so I do not know how to answer,” Aurelia casually replied.
Of course it didn’t. I inhaled, pulling that breath deep into my lungs, feeling it all the way to my toes before slowly exhaling. I added a countdown from ten before I felt in control of my emotions to respond. “Would it be too much to ask that you let me know when you decide to pop in?”
Aurelia was sitting on the couch, her back to me and her tattooed bald head and neck on full display. She didn’t bother turning around when she responded. “You have seemed upset in the past when I arrive. I thought to try a different tactic. I presumed this would be better.”
I was glad Aurelia couldn’t see my slow blink, not that she would have known what to make of it. I was oddly perplexed. In her own way, it sounded like Aurelia was attempting to be considerate. Mouth opening, I closed it while struggling for the right words. Finally, I settled on “while I appreciate your thoughtfulness, I think it would be best if you alerted me to your presence. It’s more…disconcerting to know you’ve been here and I haven’t known.”
Aurelia’s slow head turn didn’t seem natural and set my heart racing for a whole host of new reasons. The odd angle looked likesomething out of a horror movie. One Caribbean blue eye stared at me while the edge of her lip twisted into something close to a smirk. “It is interesting that you believe you always know when I am present.”
This time, when my mouth dropped open, it wasn’t because I didn’t know what to say. It was because my mind went blank before panic set in. That panic turned to fury in less than two seconds flat.
“You’ve been in my house and hidden your presence from me.” My voice sounded cold even to my own ears.
Aurelia’s smirk grew as she answered a cryptic “perhaps” before turning her attention back to the silent television.
I stood there, fuming while Aurelia’spetrolled back down the hall, once more smacking into my foot before turning directions and heading back into the kitchen. The little rodent certainly seemed to be enjoying itself. That made one of us. Two if we were including the djinn sitting on my couch.
“The scent in your kitchen smells interesting,” Aurelia said as if the past ten minutes hadn’t taken place.
“It’s potato soup,” I grumbled while heading back into the kitchen. I vigorously stirred the soup, taking my frustration out on it. “Creepy fuckin’ djinn,” I mumbled too low for even Aurelia to hear.
I think she said something else, but I was too busy mentally brooding to pay attention. I don’t know why it never occurred to me that she might keep her presence hidden from me as well. If Aurelia’s object of attachment were closer, I’d probably be able to feel her better. Or maybe not. Aurelia’s soul was contained within the object. If it were closer, I’d always feel Aurelia’s soul. Would that feeling change when the two were in close proximity? I tried to remember what it had felt like that first time, when they had been close together, and couldn’t ferret it out. I wasn’t paying attention to the particulars at the time.
I was starting to give myself a headache and forcefully pushed thoughts of Aurelia and her trapped soul from my brain. I had enough presence of mind to text Franklin that Aurelia was here. I didn’t get a response back and wasn’t surprised. Franklin was most likely driving.
“I am entering the kitchen,” Aurelia announced. When I glanced her direction, she had her hamster carrying backpack dangling from one hand. She set it on a kitchen chair before making her way toward the stove. Nose in the air, she sniffed and came a little closer. “It does not smell horrible.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“You are welcome,” Aurelia answered, not catching my earlier sarcasm. “Peaches’s friend, Philodendron, has introduced me to several different foods and baked goods. According to Peaches, Phil is considered a good maker of food.”
“And what do you think?” I asked while turning the gas down and allowing the soup to simmer.
Aurelia shrugged. “I have very little to compare it to. However, most of his dishes I find acceptable, although most are too sweet and none are as good as the Jell-O from Harvest Day.”
I somehow managed to suppress my laugh. “Peaches told me he ordered Jell-O delivered to the orchard.”
