Marc flashed me a smile as he set down the spoon. “I’ve met many things, but none were quite as interesting as you.”
His flattery didn’t distract me from what he’d just done. My eyes flickered between him and the utensil. “Why did you just do that?”
“Do what?”
“With the spoon. Why’d you twist it around and then hold it to the fire?”
“Magic.”
“A magic spoon?”
“No, it conjures magic,” he told me as he tapped the spoon.
The candle in front of us burst upward in a teardrop shape, and a pair of black eyes emerged from the red depths. They blinked a few times before a huge mouth opened in a yawn. The flame slopped its lips together before those dark orbs fell on us.
“Good evening and welcome to the Sanguine Club.” The flame spoke in a droll voice that nearly made me fall asleep. That is, if I wasn’t about to have a stroke at the sight of a flame speaking and staring at me.
I turned my agape mouth on my companion. “W-what is going on?”
Marc was all grins as he nodded at the fire. “The candles are the waiters.”
“And the cooks,” the fire added as it puffed out its chest. “And might I add that we are the best chefs in the whole of the capital.”
I leaned back and examined the flickering creature. “How do you bring the food out?”
The fire scoffed. “We do not bring the food. That’s a low job we leave to you fleshers.”
“These fleshers are hungry,” Marc spoke up as he folded his arms over the table. “What’s the special?”
“The steak is our finest yet, served with a side of fresh salad, a fruit of your choice, and a basket of bread.”
“Skip the salad and bring us two plates with a basket to share.”
The flame twisted to and fro. “I cannot approve of that, sir. The salad is the healthiest item on the menu-”
“Which is why we’re skipping it,” Marc insisted.
The waiter rolled its eyes clear around its head and back to the front. “If you wish, sir. This will take a few minutes. Please enjoy the house wine while you wait.” The flame dropped back into the glass container and reverted to its small, flickering self.
I leaned forward and examined the flame. “Wow. Are these guys some sort of demon?”
“Nobody’s quite sure if they’re a demon or a god, or even a magic crafted long ago, and the fire handlers aren’t telling. They’re useful for cooking and lighting, though, so people use them for that.”
“So what you were doing with the spoon was that to call the, um, waiter?” I guessed.
He lifted the spoon and smiled at the utensil. “It’s a little elaborate, but it keeps uninvited guests from ordering the food.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that such a big deal? I mean, as long as they pay, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that Adrien uses a special spice he doesn’t want anyone to get hold of,” Marc told me.
The color drained from my face. “It’s not blood, is it?”
His eye twinkled. “What if it was?”
My stomach tumbled, and I shot to my feet. “I just lost my appetite.”
Marc grabbed my hand and tugged me back into my seat. “Does a little blood make you squeamish?”
