Page 10 of Evil Eyed
Plus, it simply made me feel good to watch my friends eat well. To know I gave them sustenance, but also the opportunity to gather and laugh, cry, tell stories, even fight and drink and curse as needed. And yes, fuck, of course. The perfect dessert.
Once we lost Doran, all our gifts weakened with each incarnation. I hadn’t been able to prepare a true feast at all—though the bikers loved it when I cooked even a simple meal in the tiny, dingy kitchen above the tattoo parlor.
This new house’s kitchen was made for preparing feasts. The former owner had renovated the kitchen recently, including new commercial gas stoves and double ovens. Between the walk-in refrigerator and massive pantry, we were well enough stocked to open a restaurant. The agent who’d helped Aidan purchase the house had hired a top-notch service to supply all the cookware and dishes that a million-dollar house would ever need.
While I looked at the shelves of raw product waiting to be turned into a delicious dinner, my fingers began to tingle. Ah, the magic was happy to be used again. Too happy, perhaps. Visions of roasted meats and complicated layer cakes flickered rapid-fire through my mind, but all those things would take hours of preparation.
I didn’t want us to be sweating over a hot stove in the kitchen for hours. Not when we could be sweating over a hot Riann in bed.
“What’s your favorite food?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I’m pretty easygoing when it comes to food. I eat anything.”
I narrowed my eyes, giving her a firm stare. “That’s not what I asked. What do youliketo eat? Other than chocolate croissants.”
Aidan smirked, making her blush. “Vivi makes a great sandwich.”
“That’s notcooking. I want to make you a real meal. What’s your best memory involving food?” Though as soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to kick myself. Her memories had been damaged by the changeling, and we’d only just begun to understand how lonely and miserable her childhood had been. “Any foods at all that you have fond feelings about?”
Her lips curved in a wry smile that broke my heart. “I don’t remember family meals—and not because the changeling destroyed those memories. They never existed. We didn’t do big sit-down meals at the table, not even for holidays. We did get drive-thru sometimes that we ate in the car, but usually I ate at school or fended for myself with quick foods a kid likes. A box of mac and cheese or canned spaghetti. PopTarts. Cereal. Sometimes I ate with Vivi’s family. I thought her mom was an excellent cook, but she made what she called poor-man dishes. You’re going to laugh but my favorite thing she made was meatloaf.”
“I’m not familiar with that dish. Do you know how it was made?”
“Ground meat with lots of crackers and an egg. She said the crackers helped the meat go further and still taste good. She formed it into a log and put ketchup on top. Oh! The potatoes! She always opened up cans of green beans and potatoes and cooked them together with a little bit of bacon.”
It took all my thousands of years of mortal experience not to shudder with revulsion. Though I did blink several times, trying to picture the dish despite the muttered growls coming from both Aidan and Doran.
Fury. Thatmo stórhad endured such a lack of even the most basic of necessities like decently prepared food. Let alone the kind of emotional connections that people made while sharing a meal together. Her parents hadn’t formed any kind of emotional attachment to her. She’d never belonged anywhere or been safe or cared for, other than her friendship with Viviana.
“Well, I’ll do my best at creating something equally tasty,” I said gruffly.
Doran grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to his bulk. “We’re your family now,mo stór,and this is your home. We start a new life in this place. A new life of happiness and love.”
“Can I ask something that might seem… offensive?” She rushed to add, “I don’t mean to be, but I’m curious.”
“Of course, love,” Doran replied. “Your questions are always safe with us.”
“It’s something that I’ve always wondered,” she began, looking at me hesitantly. “They’re weapons, but you’re associated with food and hunger. Has it ever made you feel less… dangerous, I guess? I mean, we all need food, I get that, but they’re deadly weapons.”
I smiled back confidently. “So am I, though agreed, my power is less obviously a weapon. Let me tell you a story, aye? Are you familiar with Cúchulainn?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“He was a legendary Irish warrior—”
With a devilish wink, Ivarr leaned over my shoulder to add, “Not as legendary as us, of course.”
“Who took a vow to never eat dog meat.”
Riann grimaced. “Ugh. I love dogs.”
“Exactly. I’m sure he thought that he would never have cause to violate this geas, for it would be easy enough to avoid and dog wasn’t a commonly used meat in our country. By chance, he came across an old woman in the woods. She had very few possessions and lived in a rough hut with a leaky roof, yet she offered him, a wandering guest who just happened to stop by her door, a bowl of stew.”
“Oh no.”
“Of course, he realized what manner of meat the old woman had used in her stew as he held the bowl. If he ate the dog meat stew, he would break his oath. For a man like him, that would be like our leprechaun forgetting to give his three wishes.”
Warwick added a dramatic gasp.
