Remo’s nostrils flared. When his pupils dilated, I surmised the fragrance wasn’t imaginary.
The glass door clapped shut behind us, and I jumped, but then I sniffed the air again and tracked the scent like alupa. My nose led me to a square opening built into a wall beside a varnished bar. I peered inside, making out the gleam of metal countertops and the shine of upside-down pots—a kitchen!
Even though I could climb through the opening, I strode along the wall on the lookout for a door, stomach twisting in anticipation. The second I spotted it, I looked for a handle but found none. Remo, who’d trailed me down the dim hallway, pressed his palm into the wood, and the door swung on its hinges.
“I was about to do that,” I said.
He shot me his usual arrogant smirk, the one that touted:I am so much smarter than you.
Instead of sinking to his level, I notched up my chin and entered the dim space that smelled so sweet, licking the air would surely candy my tongue. My nose guided me toward a large metal and glass box glowing with a light that enveloped the edges of a bubbling golden pie. I latched onto a long handle and tugged. A burst of hot air shot into my face. I was about to reach inside for the pan when Remo’s voice stilled my hand.
“You’re going to burn yourself.”
“Burn myself? I’m made of fire.”
I stuck my hand inside and grabbed the pan. Even through the glove, the heat of the metal scorched me. I didn’t let go even though it felt like the material was melting and adhering to my skin. I all but tossed the pan onto the center island.
“You burned yourself, didn’t you?” Remo followed the downward trajectory of my hand.
“Nope.” My cheeks flamed, though. Hopefully, the obscurity would hide my blush.
He crossed the kitchen toward a sink and turned the knob. I was expecting it to be dry, but there was a groan followed by a familiar splash that made my heart catch and my throat tighten. I strode over to him so fast I thought I’d regained my Hunter speed. Remo didn’t scoop out any water; he simply watched it fall. I grabbed a bowl from a shelf and shoved it underneath, terrified this was a fluke and any second the pipes would run dry.
I pulled off my gloves and laid them on the counter. My fingertips had reddened but thankfully not blistered. Although they felt funny—a little plasticky—I didn’t complain, knowing Remo would get a kick out of my predicament.
I lifted the bowl out and carefully placed it aside. Then I cupped my hands and filled them with the water coming out of the spigot.
“Amara, maybe—”
The warning Remo had been about to utter died on his lips as I splashed the water on my face—a shot of pure bliss. I repeated the motion. The water dripping off my chin was laced with blood, yellow mud, and the remnants of my makeup.
“It’s real.” I grinned up at Remo. “Real water.”
Remo’s expression was as tight as the line of his shoulders, and the rest of his body, for that matter. When he didn’t make any move to scoop some out, I tossed some in his face. He sputtered and spit as though I’d just lobbed toxic waste at him.
I laughed. “Relax. It didn’t melt your skin off.”
He grumbled something as he wiped his forehead on his sleeve.
I grabbed a glass off a shelf and filled it, and then I gulped down the contents hungrily. I felt like laughing again. Simple pleasures. I filled up the glass and fit it into Remo’s hands. He reluctantly closed his fingers around the slick surface and then stared at it so long that I rolled my eyes. “I’m not dead.”
“Yet.”
My pulse quickened at that single word, and then my exhilaration waned. Would the water poison me? After what felt like an hour but was surely no more than a handful of seconds, Remo gave in and tipped the glass to his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drained it.
Once empty, he set the glass down and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “At least, if we die, we’ll die together.”
“How romantic.” I rolled my eyes and circled the island to reach the peach pie. I broke off a piece of crust and placed it inside my mouth. The flaky dough melted on my tongue and slid down my throat. I hummed in contentment, then broke off another piece, and another, thanking the Great Spirit for the offering. Maybe She hadn’t had a hand in it, but regardless, thanking Her couldn’t hurt.
“That good, huh?” Remo was watching me from across the island.
I pinched a gooey peach and laid it on my tongue. The explosion of flavors made my entire body quiver. “The best I’ve ever eaten.” I pushed the pan toward him, metal scraping against metal.
He crossed his arms, making no move to tear off a piece of the divine dessert. “And it doesn’t worry you that it was somehow baking when we walked in?”
My vertebrae jammed together as I swallowed the lump of peach. I raised my head higher, straining to hear any footfalls on the floor above before deciding that whoever could bake so well was not my enemy. Of course, this led me to a lightbulb moment.
“We aren’t alone,” I murmured in wonder.
