Two
AMAZRA
The oven timer alerts me that the cinnamon scones are finished. And continues to alert me for several more seconds before I look over my shoulder and find myself alone in the bakery’s kitchen.
“Sorry,” my helper says, bursting into the room while I’m crossing from a prep table to the ovens. “I thought I had enough time to hit the restroom before they were finished. When nature calls, you have to answer, right?”
“That is what I have been told.” I have lived among humans long enough to become familiar with many of their traits and gestures, including the abrupt repositioning of their eyebrows, which I have learned indicates a wide variety of their emotions.
Though my kitchen assistant is a human with elf heritage, he had never lived among nonhumans before recently becoming a resident of Fate’s Falls. His seemingly endless questions over the past three days are evidence that he has minimal knowledge about any species aside from his own.
Currently, his eyebrows and the roundness of his eyes suggest he has another question, yet his lips remain closed. Another behavior I have found quite common among humans. Communication would be more effective if they were more straightforward.
“Hell-born demons do not require restroom breaks, as we neither eat nor possess a digestive system.”
“But…you’re alive, right?” he asks as I open the oven door.
“Not in the way that mortal beings are alive.”
He watches as I reach into the oven and remove the baking sheets with my bare hands. “Still not used to seeing you do that. What’s the highest temperature you can touch stuff before it burns your skin?”
“It does not exist in this realm.”
“Seriously? What about…” He scratches his chin, then snaps his fingers. “Volcanic lava?”
“There is no substance in the earthly realm that rivals the temperature of hellfire, which is my natural environment and not physically harmful to me.”
“So, is that what hell is actually like? A plane of endless fire that’s hotter than volcanic lava? What do demons do there? And why aren’t you still there?”
“Hey, Amazra,” Dauphine says, leaning into the kitchen from the shop portion of the bakery. “I could use your help up here for a few minutes.” The highly independent and capable female elf has worked here since before I purchased the bakery from its previous owner, and only requests assistance with customers when the storefront is exceptionally busy.
“Move the scones to the wire racks for cooling, then resume the preparations I stepped away from,” I tell my kitchen helper. Pausing in the doorway, I turn and meet his gaze. “After you clean your hands. You touched your face during our conversation.”
Nodding, he hurries to the sink without argument or further questions.
Demons do not require breath, yet I find myself mimicking the human tendency to exhale purposefully as I step into the bakery’s storefront, which is currently vacant, aside from Dauphine. “There are no customers. How do you require my assistance?”
“I don’t. I was rescuing you from William.” Her lips form a grimace. “I could hear his stream of questions all the way in here. I’m sure he’s getting on your nerves back there.”
Working alongside Dauphine, I have learned that many words and phrases are used nonliterally in this realm. Since the elf is aware that demons share few physiological traits with the wide variety of mortal species living in Fate’s Falls, it is safe to say she is not referring to literal nerves, which I do not possess.
“I’ll talk to him. Again,” she says, releasing a lengthy breath, much like my gesture a moment earlier, though hers is natural. “After today’s shift, if you can tolerate him for the rest of the day.”
“It is not a question of tolerance. He is a distant member of your clan, and you asked me to give him a job. I will continue to train him to perform his tasks competently. I will answer his questions about things unrelated to our workday if they do not interfere with tasks.”
Dauphine’s tall, pointed ears twitch. “Which they obviously were, since he was standing there and watching you dohisjob while he spewed out a string of questions about things that are none of his business.”
“He will learn and adapt.”
“You’re pretty cool for someone created in the fires of hell,” she says, smiling. “William’s question got me thinking, though. I know there are many kinds of hell demons, like Razbunare is a revenge demon and Hellmuth was a guardian of the gates.No idea about Daemon, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with sex, if that’s a thing. But in all our conversations since you took over the bakery, you’ve never once mentioned what you did in the hell realm.”
“Tasks for which I was created and am glad I no longer perform.”
Her smile vanishes and the color drains from her fair complexion. “Amazra, I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy or bring up unpleasant memories.” By the time she finishes speaking, the elf’s eyes are glassy, and her large, pointed ears have lowered, nearly drooping. “You’re not just my boss, you’re a good person and a friend, and I would never intentionally disrespect you or knowingly step out of bounds.”
“You have committed no offense.” My words appear to offer little solace. Reaching under the wooden counter, I remove some cash from the coffee fund, as it is called. “If it is not inconvenient, perhaps you could rescue me from returning to my kitchen duties a while longer by going to The Brew for some refreshments. Whatever you prefer, and perhaps something cold for your kinsman, to avert his attention from the topic of heat.”
Sniffling, she releases a small laugh. Her ears return to their normal position, and a tentative smile lifts the corners of her mouth as she takes the money from my hand. “I know you’re not asking because you need rescuing. From anything. Ever.”
