“But does it get done in fifteen minutes?” I ask.
“Sometimes. Not usually. A lot of the time, I end up cancelling or forgetting whatever I was supposed to do instead.”
“That sounds like an issue,” I say.
She tears apart the chocolate croissant and nods. “It really is. Hence the timers.”
“Because you think you’re going to lose track of time with me?”
She glances sideways, her gaze dragging over me so intensely that my mouth dries. “Definitely.” She plops a bite of pastry into her mouth, and her face contorts into one of satisfaction. “Damn, that’s good,” she says happily. “Thank you. I was really craving this this morning.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” I tell her.
“No, it’s amazing. Definitely needed now. The rest of the night is going to include every regular, including the ones who will likely look at some of the tourists and tell them to get out of their seats.”
“People will do that?”
“Oh, yeah. Some of them are really territorial. We had two men who got mad at us last year when we sponsored the Rumpus parade. Said we shouldn’t advertise because it meant there would be more people in there.”
“Isn’t that kind of the point?” I ask.
“That’s what we explained,” she says with a shrug. “Is this your first time in town for the festival?”
No.
“I’m usually here a few weeks every winter. Which is concerning,” I reply.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t understand how I’ve been coming here all these years and never met you.”
“That does seem like an issue,” she teases me. “What do you usually do when you’re here?”
Toy with people.
Cause mischief and try to keep my brother in line—a full-time job, really.
“Last year, I painted the mural at the lighthouse. They let me stay on the grounds in exchange,” I decide to tell her.
“That was you?” she asks, brows raised. “The mural is beautiful.”
“It was a nice gig. I liked living in the lighthouse. The view was really amazing to wake up to.”
“Where are you staying this year?”
“Ah… it’s a little bungalow down on Third. Not far. I’m usually on the other side of the island. Maybe that’s why we haven’t crossed paths.”
“Shame,” she says, smiling. “Seems like a lot of time we have to make up for.”
“Seems like.” The corner of my lips lift as I watch her take another bite of croissant.
“What do you do when you’re not on the island?” she asks.
Live in another realm.
Prepare for the winter. Draw up plans and strike deals with the other elemental demons, demigods, and nature sprites.
Dodge our mother and her punishments.
