Page 25 of Elixir of Strife
“Sweet, free grub.” I raised one hand, menu in the other as I grinned at the waitstaff. “Waiter, I’ll have the top half of this page and the bottom half of the next page. Max, did you want anything?”
“Shut up, shut up, don’t call me that,” he rasped, turning his face away.
I flapped my hand at him. “Don’t worry about it. Nobody seemed to notice me. That guy practically glided by. Busy night, maybe? I’m sure someone will come get our order soon.” I flipped through the menu. “Garlic shrimp, croquettes — oh, wow. Lots of stuff here that I haven’t had in ages. Wait a minute. This is mostly Spanish cuisine. Is this a Spanish restaurant? Are you trying to introduce me to your culture, Maximo? That’s so cute.”
Max’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Damn it, Leon, you’re not listening. Remember when I first told you about my family? And all those other times before that when I told you about how dangerous the great magical families of Dos Lunas are?”
“You mean when you were pretending to be someone you were not? Yeah, I remember.” I tore up a piece of bread — nice and hot — dipped it into some sort of dark paste on the table, and popped it past my lips. Summer exploded in my mouth, the tart, bright flavors blending perfectly with the soft yet crusty bread. “Oh my God. What is this stuff? It’s amazing.”
“Tapenade. Chopped up olives and capers and probably anchovies. But that’s not the point right now. The point is that my former family, they’re all evil, and Divina is no exception. Also, no offense, but that tapenade cannot possibly be that good. Divina couldn’t cook to save her life. You know what, give me some of that.”
He reached for the bread basket, slathering some of the dark stuff onto it. I put down the menu and frowned.
“Sounds like you’re not a fan of this Divina person.”
“Understatement of the year.” The crusty bread crunched as he bit into it. Max froze mid-chew, then stared down at his appetizer.
I quirked an eyebrow, watching for his reaction. “Something wrong?”
He pulled off his sunglasses, eyes brimming with disbelief. “This is delicious. That’s impossible.”
“Told you. Maybe your cousin finally learned one or two things about making good food.”
“Again, impossible.” He dropped his bread onto his plate, wiping his fingers off on his napkin. “The only thing Divina is good at is worming into people’s brains, using her twisted charisma to get her way.”
I swallowed my second piece of bread, took a sip of water. “I didn’t realize that was a thing. Oh, God. Is that for real?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is. There’s all sorts of people with terrible magic out there, and this one happens to be a terrible person, too. A Brillante, at that.” Max nodded, rubbing his eyelids with the heels of his palms. He glanced around and shrugged. “Guess there’s no point in staying incognito. I don’t see her anywhere.”
The chuckle came sputtering past my lips. Hopefully it didn’t sound too cruel. “Incog — are you kidding? With your indoor sunglasses as big as your face? Come on, Max. Let’s try to enjoy this. Maybe your cousin turned over a new leaf, huh?”
“Maybe,” he grumbled, reaching for the menu himself. “Not that I’ll ever fully trust her, if I’m honest. Divina and I grew up together. Her gift wasn’t as developed back then, but she still got me. Made me do stuff that — yeah. Let’s just say she had a reputation for being a bully. Got away with it every time, too. Happens when you can charm grownups.”
I’d never made the connection until Max laid it out so clearly. It didn’t feel right, someone abusing their magic for the purpose of manipulating their own family. I didn’t think much of her before, but my dislike for this Divina character was steadily growing.
“We can leave,” I said. “If you want. I don’t mind at all.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m okay. If we go, Divina wins. Let’s actually try some of this slop and see if we just lucked out on the free bread and dip. Anything particular you want to order?”
“Fucking everything, if I’m honest. But we should definitely get some paella. Haven’t had it in ages. You want the seafood one? There’s another kind that’s mostly meat. Chorizo, too. Yum.”
“Actually,” he said, lip turned up smugly, “it’s pronounced paella. More of a Y sound.”
“You guys colonized my country for centuries. Least you could do is let me have my consonants. That’s how we pronounce it back home. So yes, we should definitely get the paella.”
Max sputtered and flustered, his cheeks tinged red with embarrassment. “Listen. My ancestors weren’t conquistadors, okay? They were too busy staying in Spain. Practicing magic. And being criminals.” He glanced around the dining room, eyes narrowed. “Some things don’t change.”
“Joking,” I said, patting him on the arm. “Maybe we could try both kinds?”
And the joke had caught him off guard, but now the lightest touch seemed to relax him. Max smiled, then called over a very sleepy looking waiter. Must have been a long shift. I made a mental note to leave him a nice tip later — rather, to ask Max to leave him a nice tip later.
With our orders placed, Max’s words came a little easier, his smiles looser. Fantastic that there were smiles at all, really. This was finally feeling a little more like a proper date. Well, as long this Divina person didn’t appear out of nowhere to make a fuss. It really didn’t take much at all for her to sound like someone I’d love to hex into next Tuesday.
But our food arrived, smelling excellent, tasting divine. I kind of hated that the word came to mind, but it was true. Authentic Spanish tortillas, the egg moist, the potatoes perfectly cooked. Piping hot croquettes with creamy ham filling. And the paella had that lovely crust of toasted rice on the bottom, a special, crispy treat, the hallmark of a good paella.
“Sorcery,” Max muttered, inspecting the omelette up close, dissecting the poor croquettes right on his plate. “There’s got to be some magic involved.”
I nodded, considering the possibility all while stuffing my face. “You know, in the Philippines? It’s how you get someone to fall for you. Put something in their food. Like a love potion. We call itgayuma.”
