Page 14 of Invasive Species
Hm, I certainly get that impression. “You win,” I say. “You can all sit down while I… uh…” Shit. This stove is an Aga, on all the time to heat the house as well as cook things. I lift what looks like a lid on the stove to find a warm ring, then slide the skillet on.
“Okay. Next, break eggs.” I can't fail that; I'm always breaking things. I crack them into a relatively clean looking jug, then whisk them together. There isn't any milk in the fridge, and no cheese either. Ellen makes bread every day but how she does it might as well be magic to me. In fact, everything my friend does is pure magic. She can get up, get her shit together, and check items off a mental to-do list without a single hiccup.
I sniff the air. “Whoa, that’s smoky. Who’s on fire?”
Gara snatches the skillet off the stove, hardened scales clinking against the plastic handle. “This is melting.”
“Oh, fuck. Ellen puts special pans on the Aga. Shit, I just melted something else. Not a skillet. Looks like… well, looks like a Salvador Dali painting. Kind of dig it.”
Gara turns the mess over in the air, nose wrinkling. “Smells like aerated aromatic hydrocarbons. Do not breathe the fumes in.”
“Yeah, probably no good for the brain.” Taking the mess from him, I slide it into the sink to deal with later. “Uh, right. Eggs. In a special pan, a metal one.” I search the kitchen for the correct beast.
“How can we help you?” Purple-eyed alien says from the table, shooting a simmering glare at Gara. But Gara's the king of glares: he doesn't even rock back from it, just turns to me, arms folded.
I rub my temples. “How about… another list? I… I need helporganizing tasks sometimes.” Like when I'm super in over my head.
Slowly, Gara pulls out his device from his belt. “Concerning?”
“Making breakfast. I need to find the metal pan. Whisk the eggs, done. Find bread, toast and butter it. Uh, add bread to a shopping list. Cook the eggs?—”
“Is that a different list?” Gara asks, hands flying over his computer pad thing. Symbols dance above it, like ancient runes in a sorcerer's spell.
I slide across the kitchen to his elbow. “So cool. How does it work? Can I touch them?”
He grunts, the arm I'm leaning on stiffening as his scales harden. “It works via biomechanical feedback, and projects using phototonic rays. The scanner element takes chemical signature samples through magnetic resonance, but it can also rearrange elements to make target materials.”
It's a miracle: I didn't zone out. Somehow, Gara's voice manages to make technobabble sound… well, sexy.
“Can you send lists to my phone?” I fish out my battered Samsung.
“Right now? Is this a priority?” Gara asks, and at the table purple-eyes rumbles deep in his chest, practically vibrating the kitchen.
Okay, weird.
“Eh, probably not.” I turn to the triplets. “What are your names again?”
The yellow-eyed triplet points at the gray eyed one. “Nevare.” At purple. “Dom.” And himself. “Arik.”
Arik has yellow eyes, Nevare’s are gray, purple is Dom. “I'll try to remember. Thanks.”
“You're welcome,” Arik replies, and I give him a thumbs up. He returns it, face softening into a smile.
Gara puts his own thumb up. “What does this indicate?”
“Okay, yes, great, good job.” I boop Gara's right thumb with my own. His dwarfs mine, a giant tree to the tiny druid trying to approach it.
He drops his hand, staring down at me.
And then I realize I've curled the fingers of my left hand around his elbow, fixing him in place.
I dart back. “Uh, cool. Awesome.” I busy myself trying to find… what was it again?
“Pan,” Gara says, hooking one from the set dangling over our heads. Oh yeah, Ellen hangs them up there. He spins the handle so the pan flips in his hand, then sets it squarely on the Aga burner. “Eggs.” He sweeps up the eggs I beat and pours them into the pan. He even adds salt and pepper.
He glances at me. “I've watched El-len with this task.”
“Mm, yeah. Great.” I can't even make eggs today, but at least we're getting fed.
