“No, what I destroyed was a puppet,” Hilario said, “It’s…well, call it a magical sort of robot. They’re very complicated and expensive. And not all that practical. But they have their uses when you want to fool someone for a short time. This one was very, very good. I almost didn’t catch on. But the pilot–the six-tailed rat demon made a couple mistakes.”
Larry let out a shuddering sigh. Why did ghosts breathe? Or did they? Maybe it was just habit.
“Thank goodness. That would have creeped me all the way out if that…”
“That what?” Hilario said, “Tell me what you did, Larry?”
“He fucking cheated on my sister. That’s what he did,” Detective Marco said, “And I still want to fucking know how you’re doing this clown boy. What drugs are you feeding me?”
Sister?
Hilario squeezed his eyes shut. Brought up images in his mind of Detective Marco and Rachel. Turned them from side to side.
There were enough similarities.
Oh dear.
Well, didn’t that explain a lot.
And raise even more questions.
Like why Detective Marco was adamantly non-magical while his sister was magical in a way Hilario had never experienced before. And that was saying something give the breadth of his magical experiences.
He opened his eyes and fixed a glare on Larry. Who shrunk back against the door.
“You are going to explain to me, right now, just what you were doing that got you divorced,” Hilario said, “And how is the Sapphire Witch involved?”
Larry put his palms to his cheeks. Shook his head.
“Oh, Hilario my friend,” he said, “I was so stupid. I thought I could get away with it.”
“Idiots like you always do,” Marco said. He shucked off his black overcoat. Pitched the stinking, slime soaked thing to the back of the van.
Oh, it was going to take a miracle to clean stench out of the van.
Of course he was making an assumption that both he and the van were going to survive all this.
“Larry. What did you do?” Hilario said.
Larry clenched his eyes shut. Ran his hand over his mouth and sighed.
“He was fucking around!” Marco shouted.
Larry spun around. “I wasn’t!” he shouted back. “I never touched her. I was just…in her kitchen”
He turned back. Slumped down on the seat.
“She came into the Sparrow one night near closing,” he said, “It was so slow, I’d sent everyone home. Sometimes I liked that. Like the quiet time. I planned to stay a while in the kitchen. Play with some new pies I’d been thinking about.”
Larry turned his face to the window. Stared at the infinite darkness beyond the glass.
“I didn’t hear her come in,” he said, “But I felt her presence. Like the air itself had become electric. I caught a scent of something like leather and freshly ground cardamon.
“I came out of the kitchen. She sat at the table in the center. All the lights were out except for the one over it. The sight of her took my breath away. I knew in an instant that she was not of this world. That she came from a place both magical and…terrible.
“I told her we were closing up. She could come back tomorrow.”
Larry put a hand to his face. For once Hilario wished he could reach out and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He could guess how the rest of things happened, but Larry needed to get it out.
“Go on, Larry,” he said, “Tell me.”
Larry let out a shuddering sigh.
“She told me she was hungry now, and she had heard I made the best food in the city,” he said, “I…I’ve got a little experience with supernatural beings. I knew if I refused her, there would be consequences. But I also had protections. There were things that she couldn’t do without upsetting the balance of our world.”
Hilario’s mind whirled. Poop-con-sarn-it! He knew there was some magic in what Larry did in the Stung Sparrow. How had he not seen it outright though? Both Larry and Rachel had magical connections. And he had missed them. Maybe it made sense with Rachel since he’d had so little contact with her, and her source of energy was different that any he’d ever encountered. But Larry…
“I got her a menu, and put it on the table in front of her,” Larry said, “She didn’t look at. Didn’t even touch it. Just sat there in that leather coat of hers, one arm over the back of the chair, legs crossed. Looked at me with those hidden eyes of hers. Said, create something for me, Larry Sparrow.
“I went back to the kitchen. My beautiful brick oven was still hot. As she always was. Keezheekoni never slept.”
The name tickled something in Hilario’s memory, but it wouldn’t surface. It did make his stomach twist, though. An oven that never slept?
“I stood in front of my big wooden work table,” Larry said, “Took a ball of dough in my hands. Flattened it and spun it while I centered myself. The act of spinning the dough is like zen for me. It takes the world away. All my worries go. All my thoughts. I just become the act of creation.
“I grabbed a wooden peel and the dough landed on it. Perfect. A blank slate. Ready to become.
“Without thinking, my hands started grabbing ingredients. The spirit of creation ran through my body and turned all those scattered pieces into something new.”
Hilario had watched Larry make a pizza many times. The man was a whirlwind in the kitchen. Arms and hands flying.
