She stared at me. She’d probably never gotten her wrist slapped before.
“Ask our guest if she wants pickles on her sandwich,” Temple called from the kitchen. “And does she prefer spicy mustard or the plain yellow kind? Oh, never mind. I’m gonna do this right, and that means fresh rye bread and Swiss cheese and spicy brown mustard and kosher dills. The works!”
The harvester retreated toward the door.
“He gets carried away in the kitchen,” I explained. “You can eat the meat and leave the rest. I won’t tell him.”
I removed the hagstone and massaged my eye. The harvester turned back into a shadowy form. I’d have magical afterimages for the next few hours, like I’d stared too long at a bright light. “I wish you could tell me who did this to you.”
Most people couldn’t see harvesters, let alone hurt them. Was this a fluke, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time with the right magical weapon? More likely, this was the beginning of some half-trained wannabe’s crusade against “the forces of darkness.” In which case I should stock up on supplies.
Or you could hunt, as you were born to do.
Hunt the would-be Hunter. The thought quickened my heart. Follow the harvester home, figure out where she’d been attacked, and track the attacker from there. Let the full strength and comfort of my estranged goddess fill me like it had when I was young.
In the kitchen, the toaster popped. I spun, instinctively reaching for weapons I hadn’t carried in decades.
That was one of the many reasons I’d quit. Even thinking about a hunt had me primed to skewer anything that looked at me funny. They say when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Well, all I’d had were my bow and blade.
The smell of toasted rye drifted into the hall.
I packed my supplies back into the first aid kit and imagined Felipe’s disappointed sigh.
I wouldn’t go back to being a Hunter. Not after what they’d turned me into. Not after what I’d done. This was my place now. This was my job.
Even if it means letting a dangerous would-be killer with an enchanted blade run loose?
I slammed the kit shut and latched the lid. “Let me put this away, and then I’ll be back with your sandwich.”
As before, the closet door opened on its own. I glanced at the ceiling, thinking about the wallpaper I’d torn. “Are we good?”
The house’s presence wasn’t localized to any one spot, but I always found myself looking up when I talked to it. It just felt more polite.
A small board game fell from the top shelf and struck my head, sprinkling me in dust.
“Rude,” I muttered as I put the first aid kit away. I stood on my toes to return the game to its spot. “But I suppose I deserved that.”
In the kitchen, I squeezed past Temple to grab the harvester’s sandwich. It was piled a good three inches high and cut diagonally. Each half had one of those toothpicks with the plastic frills on the end to hold it together.
I gave his shoulder a gentle pat as I passed. “Extra whipped cream on my sundae, please.”
“Duh,” he said, matching my tone from earlier.
I grinned and returned to the harvester. She took the sandwich, cocked her head, and ate the whole thing in a single bite, toothpicks and paper plate and all.
The air outside was unseasonably chilly. I looked past the harvester but saw no threats lurking in the darkness. “Be careful out there.”
“Come on, people.Ka’aiis pronounced likeyippee ki yay. Say it with
me.Mggoka’ai ya ng nafl’fhtagn.I typed the whole thing out
for you phonetically and everything. Let’s start again.
And this time, say it like you mean it.”
CHAPTER 2
Annette
