AMAZRA
The sun has dipped below the horizon when I exit the bakery. Equally spaced streetlamps along the sidewalk provide adequate illumination for general purposes. In the town square, which sits between the divided main street, additional lighting has been added this evening. Soft white string lights wrap the gazebo and hang between trees. Several spotlights on posts shine on the area where the event is set up.
At the perimeter of the park, a bright-pink banner hangs between two lampposts, bearing the words “Community Bingo Night! Come One, Come All!” in thick, hand-painted yellow letters bordered in a white ruffle motif.
Lilah created the banner and the event. Updating me of its details in our daily conversations has brought constant lightness to her expressive face and voice for several weeks.
I alone am responsible for the single moment that light dimmed.
“The first game starts at 7:30. I’ll see you there?” she said on her way out of the bakery earlier today.
“My work here is unlikely to be completed by that time.”
That is when the joy left her expression. She simply responded with, “Okay” before exiting.
Dauphine did not hesitate in berating me after the door closed. First, in human English, then in the elven language, presumably for the purpose of using words my kitchen assistant would not understand. Words only an adversary—or a well-meaning friend—would speak. She concluded her extensive and colorful commentary on my ignorance and low intelligence with stern instructions to attend the bingo event.
The air in the town parkette is abuzz with voices and laughter. Folding tables have been placed end to end, forming two sections of multiple short rows. Each setting has six plastic chairs, all of them full except one.
The only empty chair is located at the end of a row of females, all of whom are friends with Lilah. As it is likely the vacant seat is meant for another member of the friend group she has amassed, I turn away from the gathering.
“Yoo-hoo, Amazra.”
Pausing my retreat, I look over my shoulder toward the voice.
“Come join us,” Lexi Goodwin says, green fingers patting the available chair next to her.
Seated on her other side, Dauphine smiles at me. As does every other female in the row. Holly, the fox shifter who gave Lilah a home and helped connect her with the job at the veterinary clinic. Terra, the wood nymph who operates aclothing store where Lilah shops. Flora, the fairy who owns a store with a variety of goods and trinkets that Lilah and many others seem to favor.
Moving toward the available spot, my focus shifts to the gazebo ahead, where Lilah stands at a small table. From her position on the elevated structure, she smiles at me while turning the handle on a gold wire cage full of small, brightly colored balls.
“Nice to see you out among mortalkind,” Lexi says as I settle on the chair.
“What is this?” I ask when she hands me an unusual writing implement with a bulbous lid.
“Your dabber. For marking your card when you have the numbers that are called out. You missed the how-to-play instructions because you’re late.” Her disapproval is evident in thetsksound she makes.
“Lilah has explained the rules in detail.”
“An advance bingo lesson from our lovely host? Well, aren’t you just the luckiest demon in town.” She waves me off before I have the opportunity to tell her that my conversations with Lilah have nothing to do with the false notion of luck.
On the platform, Lilah unlocks the cage and withdraws one ball. “B-13,” she calls, loudly enough for all present to hear.
All around me, the assembled townspeople focus on the small cards placed in front of them. Some of them use the dabber implements to mark their cards, others do not, expressing their disappointment in a variety of excited and good-natured ways.
“Dab your card,” Lexi says.
“I do not have B-13.”
“Yes, you do.”
When I review my game board, B-13 is there. But it should not be. I committed all numbers to memory the first time I looked at it. “I am certain that square was B-3.”
“You must’ve read it wrong,” she says, reaching over and dabbing my card.
“I do not make mistakes.”
The witch cackles. Beside her, Dauphine leans forward and smiles at me. My attendance seems to have banished her earlier irritation.
