Remo neither nodded nor shook his head. He watched the pie and then he watched the oven behind me. “Did you turn the oven off?”
The oven?Of course, the oven. That was the name of the box from which I’d taken the pie. I swung around. The glass no longer glowed. “Could it have turned off automatically?”
He sighed and came around my side of the island. He popped the door down. Neither hot air nor light drifted out of the cooking box this time. “Maybe. Some of these had built-in timers.”
“How do you know so much about ovens? Are antiquated electronics a prerequisite curriculum for becoming alucionaga?”
A corner of his mouth curled. “Surprisingly, no. I learned about them through Mom. She used to run the bakery in this town.”
Right. “What was it called again?”
“Astra’s, but it’s not on this street. It’s by the harbor, and since these cells seem built on single streets, I don’t think Grandfather included it.”
I stretched and pulled the pan back toward me to snatch off another piece. Remo watched me eat. If he’d been a friend, I might’ve force-fed him, if only to prove how delectable it was, but he wasn’t a friend. For all I cared, he could starve himself. More pie for me. I hummed around the bite of food.
“I was thinking of something . . .” Remo said.
“You? Think?”
He squeezed one of his eyes a little shut.
“Lighten up. I was just teasing you. I might not like you, but I know you’re smart.”
Even though only a trickle of daylight streamed over Remo’s face, I caught his cheeks reddening. Was he not used to compliments? I was pretty sure he was praised every day of his life by his friends, family, and harem of women.
“So? What were you thinking?”
The big firefly’s chest rose and fell a few times before he finally managed to squeeze out his answer. “I was thinking about Karsyn’s dust.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering where he was going with this.
He nodded to my hand, to the dark whorls that stained my left palm and wrapped around each one of my fingers. “It’s still on your hand.”
“It is,” I said slowly.
“Can you pull it out and use it like your mother?”
I dropped my gaze to my tattoo. “I don’t know. I’ve never magnetized dust before.” I wasn’t even sure I knew how to get it out. I dug through my memories, trying to remember if I’d ever seen my mother do it, but couldn’t think of a single time. She was always so cautious about her trapped dusts. Yes, plural. She hadn’t only taken ownership of Remo’s grandmother’s dust. On the Day of Mist, she’d magnetized another Seelie’swita, and since he’d died after attacking her, it had become hers. Which wasn’t usually the case, but Nima was unusual. Almost as unusual as I was.
“Never?”
I gnawed on my bottom lip.
The fact that I didn’t have the slightest clue how to coax it from my skin must’ve shown on my face, because Remo asked, “So you don’t know how to use it, do you?”
I shook my head.
He rolled his neck from side to side. There was a series of little pops. “Can’t believe I’m about to teach you how to wield a weapon you could use on me—”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. The same way that if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead.” I leaned my hip against the cool island. “And I don’t mean in this world, since death doesn’t seem to be final.”
He stared at me for a long time, as though dissecting my words, trying to find one that didn’t ring true. “I saw your mother use it. She touched her tattoo, then slowly dragged her hand away, and thewitaclung to her fingertips.”
“When did you see her using it?” I wasn’t jealous, but I was surprisedhe, of all people, had had a demonstration.
