Chapter Three
Iwaited untilOwen was safely ensconced in the forge with the other blacksmiths, then headed over to the concessions area.
By this point, almost all the food trucks, vans, and carts were open, and people were already standing in line to get everything from gourmet tacos to old-fashioned cheeseburgers to homemade ice cream, despite the cold weather.
The Pork Pit truck was parkedat an angle across from the blacksmith forge on the far side of the picnic tables. In keeping with the ren-faire spirit, Sophia had hung out a large piece of poster board with the wordsYe Olde Pork Pitwritten in fancy cursive with thick black marker. She’d also decorated the board with black skulls and silver hearts stuck in royal-blue cobwebs. I grinned. More likeYe Olde Goth Pork Pit.
Thefood truck had been Sophia’s idea, a way for us to get out and about in the community and remind people about the good food we cooked at the restaurant. I had bought the truck and given it to her as a Christmas present, and she’d been cleaning and fixing it up ever since. We hadn’t had a chance to try it out yet, and the faire was going to be our test run.
I knocked on the back door, and Sophiaunlocked it. The inside of the Pork Pit food truck was like any other. A sink, a refrigerator, a freezer, a couple of stoves, several cabinets and drawers, lots of cooking gizmos, utensils, and containers. Everything you would need to make good, hot, hearty meals out of the back of a truck.
Sophia handed me a black apron patterned with tiny white skulls. “You ready?” she rasped.
I eagerly tiedon the apron, since it helped to cover up my dead-bird blouse. “Let’s get cooking.”
Sophia rolled up the metal cover on the service window, and we were officially open for business. We’d done a lot of prep work last night at the restaurant, and Sophia started heating things up, while I sliced potatoes, onions, cabbage, and carrots.
We were going with a limited menu—pulled beef, pork, and chickendrenched in Fletcher’s secret sweet-and-spicy barbecue sauce and piled high on Sophia’s warm, yummy sourdough rolls. Our sides were creamy coleslaw, baked beans, and homemade potato chips sprinkled with dill weed and blue cheese crumbles. We had also made sweet tea and cherry limeade to quench everyone’s thirst and oatmeal-cherry crumbles to satisfy everyone’s sweet tooth.
Finn could keep hisgiant turkey legs. I would much rather have Pork Pit barbecue any day of the week and twice on Sundays. And plenty of other folks agreed with me, judging by the crowd that quickly formed outside the truck.
An hour later, after that initial rush, Sophia and I finally had some time to relax. Sophia made another batch of coleslaw, while I hung my arms out the service window and stared out at thebooths and tents. The faire really was something to see, and I found myself smiling as I watched the people ambling around in their colorful costumes.
At least, I was smiling until I spotted the giants.
They were still roaming around the park, looking tall, strong, and intimidating in their black leather. But what truly caught my attention was the fact that the giants had their hands on thesilver swords hooked to their belts, as though they were old-fashioned executioners about to whip out their blades and strike down anyone who displeased them.
Oh, I knew that the giants were probably just doing their jobs as members of the security staff. Or maybe they were playing their parts to the fullest and were determined not to break their gruff, dangerous characters during the faire.
Or maybe, just maybe, they were up to something.
Stop it, Gin!I mentally chided myself.Stop it! Stop looking for trouble around every corner!
Finn often said that I was totally paranoid, and he was absolutely right in his assessment. Even here, at a fun, innocent faire, I couldn’t fully relax. Because this was Ashland, and someone wasalwaysup to something shady here. Most of the time, itwas me. Maybe that was why I was always so worried—because I knew all the bad, deadly things that I’d gotten away with as the Spider when no one was looking.
“Something wrong?” Sophia rasped, now squeezing some limes and pouring their juice in a pitcher.
“Nope,” I said in a breezy tone. “Just people-watching.”
She eyed me a moment, clearly not believing me, but she went back to her limes.
I might not have shared my worries about the giants with Sophia, but I couldn’t stop myself from tracking the men as they moved from one tent, booth, and area to the next. They didn’t do anything overtly suspicious, but they didn’t make an effort to participate in the faire activities either, and they didn’t play to the crowd or pose for pictures like the other costumed characters were doing. It wasalmost like they were waiting for something to happen before they revealed their true intentions.
But what trouble could they possibly cause at a ren faire? Steal the more expensive swords and jewelry? Crack some skulls and make off with people’s wallets and phones? Swipe the cash from the food trucks? Each new possibility that popped into my mind only increased my worry.
A few of the giantswandered by the Pork Pit truck, and one of them stopped and peered up at me. He was taller than the other giants and quite handsome, with golden hair, tan skin, and pale blue eyes.
I smiled at him, trying to be friendly and not paranoid, but he gave me a flat stare and moved on.
That giant and two others rounded the side of the blacksmith forge and disappeared. They might have been out of sight,but they were definitely not out of my mind—
A light trill of laughter caught my ear, interrupting my thoughts.
Pirate Queen Celeste’s royal rounds had finally taken her over to the blacksmith forge, and she was standing next to Owen, who was showing her a dagger he’d made. Owen also showed the blade to the other people gathered around and answered a few questions. Once he was finished, everyonein the crowd clapped in appreciation, then moved on to check out the rest of the faire.
Everyone except Celeste.
The lords and ladies in her court drifted away to browse through the soaps, perfumes, and more in some nearby booths. But not Celeste. She sidled closer to Owen and smiled, clearly interested in all the wares he had to offer. Seemed I wasn’t the only one who was into humble blacksmiths.
