Page 4 of Mischief Maker
“Probably die.” I don’t even have a weapon on me. Perhaps I should have at least brought a kitchen knife. “But I didn’t see any wolves or bears on the way here.”
“At least luck is on your side.” Kireth grabs a tree branch overhead and uses it to swing to the next tree, surprising Rye. My horse jerks, but I keep him on the path. “But luck may not be your friend for long.”
“Are you a harbinger of bad luck?” I ask.
He guffaws at my question. “You’ve invited me in. That’s enough bad luck to last a century.”
It seems to me that he wants me to believe he’s a menace, that he will do nothing to help my cause. But for the next one hundred tasks, he must do as I ask: feeding the animals, watering the crops, repairing the house. Kireth knows all this, and he’s trying to frighten me out of using my tasks. And I understand, because if I were him, I wouldn’t want to be a servant, either.
But I’ve come this far. There’s no turning back now.
Finally, just after sunrise, we crest the last peak and the village spreads out before us—a handful of farms and a town square dotted by squat houses. The sun is coming up as we reach the far end of town and keep going, toward the dead stalks and sad, dirty sheep.
My farm.
Kireth’s constant chatter dies off as we approach the fences. They are starting to collapse on themselves, too. I’ve done my best to fix them so the livestock can’t escape, but it’s hard to keep up. As soon as I’ve repaired one board, another falls down.
Kireth takes in the dying plants and the dark-colored soil. Finally we approach the house, where the front door hangs loose from its hinges.
“I’m starting to see why you went all that way to call on me,” he says, surveying the house as we step inside. The floor creaks under my feet, but not his, as if he weighs nothing. He gazes around curiously, lifting objects and observing the dust underneath them, which has gathered at an alarming rate. “All of this has happened in your time?”
I nod and hunch my shoulders. It wasn’t in the best shape when Mother was still alive, but with the two of us there, we kept up with the crops and the cows and managed to fix anything urgent.
“It’s an old house,” I say defensively.
Kireth tilts his head and his red eyes search my face. “Hmm.” He stands up straight then, and spins around in a circle. “So? Aren’t you going to give me a task to help you fix this mess?”
He almost sounds eager, like he wants me to give him something to do. As much as I’d enjoy a few hours’ rest because I’m exhausted from riding all night, I still have to feed the animals, then see about watering and fixing what I can possibly find time to fix. Maybe this is the perfect moment to use him.
“You’re not going to deal with the house right now,” I say steadily. “There are chores to do. I need you to...”
Wait. I have to think carefully about this. I only get one hundred tasks, so I’d better ask for something big—something that could take him most of the day. If I only use three tasks or fewer a day, I could keep him around for a month, two if I’m sparing. That should be a good amount of time.
“Perform all of the livestock chores,” I say, coming up with something as broad as I can think of.
Kireth’s mouth falls open. “What?” It morphs into a scowl, and his eyes narrow. “‘Perform all the chores’? You’re going to be one of those people, are you?”
I wilt under his harsh gaze. It’s intimidating to be told off by an immortal with glowing red eyes and not one, but two pairs of horns.
“What... what sort of people?” I ask, hating how meek my voice comes out.
“The kind who try to outsmart me.” He takes a threatening step in my direction. “Who think they are more clever than an immortal.”
I swallow hard as he finally comes to a stop with his face mere breaths away from mine. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and my eyes are drawn straight to them. I hadn’t allowed myself to appreciate what he looks like before, but now that he’s so close, I take in his angular jawline, his strong chin, the way his nose is straight on the bridge but curved at the tip, with wide nostrils. His cheekbones are triangular and high up, giving his face a playful shape. He’s so near to me now that his horns cast a shadow across my face.
When I don’t answer right away, Kireth leans even closer, his eyes shifting from critical to curious.
“Do you like what you see?” He breathes his question on my skin.
“Um...” Blood seeps into my cheeks. The truth seems easier than coming up with a lie. Finally I answer, “You are beautiful.”
His mouth twists into a taunting grin. “Is that so?”
He’s an immortal. Of course he’s wonderful to look at. I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t already know.
I let out a deep sigh and remember why we’re here at all. The windows are cracked and the stairs are bowed, the rafters are collapsing and the walls are peeling.
“Of course I’ll try to make the most of what little I have,” I say, ashamed but steadfast. “There’s so much to do.”
