"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"
"Was it about playing your playlist?"
Allegra grinned. "Maybe."
They compromised on a classic rock station, Allegra singing along badly to songs three times her age. She knew all the words—Briar had played them throughout her childhood, back when things were simpler. When the biggest worry was making rent, not magical debts with creatures that shouldn't exist.
At Paulson's Hardware, Allegra followed her through the aisles, providing commentary on everything.
"Why does anyone need this many types of screws?" She held up a package. "These look exactly the same as those ones but they cost twice as much."
"Different threading." Briar scanned the shelves, looking for anything labeled pure iron. Cast iron planters, wrought iron hooks, iron-alloy garden stakes. Nothing pure.
"What kind of project needs—" Allegra peered at the list Briar had hastily scrawled, "—cast iron fixtures, railroad spikes, and... what's wrought iron? Isn't that just fancy iron?"
"It's complicated."
"Everything's complicated with you lately." Allegra picked up a decorative iron wall hook shaped into a rooster. "This is hideous. Who would put this in their house?"
"Someone who likes roosters?"
"Nobody likes roosters this much." She put it back, then grabbed Briar's arm. "Oh my god, are you making Mom a weird metal sculpture for her birthday? Is that why we're here?"
"Something like that."
They spent twenty minutes in Paulson's, Briar checking every label, every description. The elderly man working the metals section watched them with growing confusion as she rejected item after item.
"Looking for something in particular?" he finally asked.
"Pure iron. No additives, no alloys. Just iron."
He scratched his chin. "Well, that's a tall order. Everything these days has a little something mixed in. Strengthens it, keeps it from rusting. What do you need pure iron for?"
"A project," Allegra supplied helpfully. "It's complicated."
"Must be." He pointed toward the back. "Might try the antique section. Sometimes old stuff was made different."
The antique section yielded a few possibilities—old farm equipment, some vintage tools. But nothing was labeled clearly, and the prices were astronomical.
"Seventy dollars for a rusty horseshoe?" Allegra whispered. "Is your project worth that?"
My life might be. "Let's try somewhere else."
They hit two more stores. At Home Depot, a teenager with gauge earrings looked at Briar with complete bewilderment when she inquired about pure iron.
"Nobody really uses pure iron, lady. It rusts too easy. Everything's got additives now. For strength and stuff."
"But if someone needed pure iron—"
"I guess maybe... a science supply place? Or one of those medieval recreation stores?" He shrugged. "But honestly, why would you want pure iron? The alloy stuff works way better."
By the third store—a smaller shop that claimed to specialize in vintage and specialty metals—even Allegra was getting suspicious.
"Okay, what's really going on?" She cornered Briar between the garden fixtures and outdoor lighting displays. A wind chime made of copper pipes sang softly above their heads. "You're being super weird, even for you."
"Just... looking for something specific."
"For a project."
