Chapter Twenty-Six
TWENTY-SIX
Mariel Spark greeted them at the door with a grin. “I’m so glad you could make it!”
Eleonore thrust out the bottle of wine Ben had bought on the way over. “I’m told gifts of alcohol are customary for modern social gatherings,” she said.
Inwardly she winced, recognizing that wasn’t the most natural way to enter a party, but nerves were twisting her stomach and making her hands sweat. It wasn’t just the prospect of socializing in a context other than being Gigi’s bodyguard that worried her—it was interacting with the people Ben cared about without any buffers.
Mariel didn’t seem to mind her awkwardness. “Thank you,” the brunette witch said, accepting the offering. Her hazel eyes were bright, and her dress was a riot of spring colors under a mint green cardigan. “Are you a hugger?” she asked Eleonore.
Eleonore blinked, having never been asked that question before. “I…don’t know.” Ben hugged her, but that was different.
Mariel’s smile gentled. “Then let’s start with a handshake.” One firm handshake later, Mariel turned to Ben. “Thanks for stopping by,” she said as she popped up on her toes to give him a tight hug.
All right, that did look rather nice. But Eleonore wasn’t sure about anyone but Ben touching her yet, so she resolved to watch how the others interacted and decide if she wanted a hug later.
“Come on in,” Mariel said. “Oz just fired up the grill.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Ben said, casting a guilty look at Eleonore that nearly made her guffaw. They were late for an important reason that had involved the back seat of his SUV in the grocery store parking lot. It’s like being a teenager again , Ben had said after their frantic kissing session. I can’t get enough of you.
She couldn’t get enough of him either, and it was nice to find a man who didn’t require an orgasm or sex to enjoy intimacy. Sure, orgasms were lovely, but there was a whole universe of sensation to be explored and more than one way to be close to another person. They’d done nothing but kiss in that back seat and he’d seemed as delighted as if she’d given him head again.
Mariel waved away the apology. “There was no real start time for this. Honestly, I’m amazed Themmie’s already here, but I guess there weren’t any other parties tonight.”
“Hey! I turned down five other social engagements to be here, thank you very much. And I brought lumpia.” The pixie’s voice came from deeper in the house, and then she appeared in the archway leading to the kitchen. Her hair was now crimson at the roots and orange at the tips, and she wore glasses with blue frames.
Eleonore’s brow furrowed. “Has your vision deteriorated?” she asked, concerned. There had been no spectacles the previous times she’d met the pixie.
“What?” Themmie looked puzzled, and then realization washed over her face. “Oh! No, these are just decorative.” She took the glasses off and waved them around. “Nerd chic is officially in.”
“Now you tell me,” Ben grumbled. “When I was growing up, people made fun of me for being a nerd.”
Eleonore now knew what nerds , geeks , and gatekeeping were thanks to a few Star Trek message boards. A lot of the people commenting on those posts seemed inexplicably upset that other people enjoyed their hobbies without being persecuted for it. Ben didn’t sound truly upset, but still—“You don’t gatekeep geekiness, do you?” Eleonore asked.
“I don’t…what?” Ben clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
Themmie bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she let out a loud laugh. “Eleonore, you are the best.”
“Am I?” She wasn’t sure why.
“I’m not laughing at you, to be clear,” Themmie said, straightening. “I just love seeing you learn about modern times, and it’s amazing how quickly you’ve picked up the lingo. Gatekeeping geekiness! That’s so real, though I promise Ben isn’t guilty of it. I bet you already know more about American pop culture after a month than he does after a lifetime.”
Ben looked sheepish. “That’s probably true,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Themmie fluttered closer. “Come on,” she said, looping her arm through Eleonore’s. “I want to hear all about you.”
Eleonore barely had time to wave at Ben before she was towed away. Themmie couldn’t be taller than five feet, but pixies were surprisingly strong for how delicate they looked: like rainbows that could strangle someone if they felt like it. Eleonore had a healthy respect for the species, having tangled with a few pixies in her day.
Themmie took her down the hallway past a living room and into the kitchen, which was warm and bright, and smelled pleasingly like cookies. From there they headed into the backyard, which was lit by strings of small electric lights. Fruit trees lined the fence and a glass-walled structure containing plants sat in the back corner.
Oz stood at the grill, scowling at hunks of raw meat like they had done him personal injury. At his side was Astaroth, who was providing Oz with loud tips on how best to handle his meat. Calladia and Rani were drinking beer and laughing nearby.
“I don’t know why this is taking so long,” Oz grumbled as they approached, poking the meat with a pair of tongs.
“Did you tenderize the steak before putting it on?” Astaroth asked. In contrast to Oz’s casual, all-black attire, he wore a pristine white suit with a silver waistcoat and tie—a daring choice for a backyard barbecue, which internet research had indicated could be a messy experience. Eleonore would have to look up more details about the modern marvel of “dry cleaning” to determine how much danger the suit was actually in. She pulled a small notebook and pen out of the pocket of her leather jacket and added dry cleaning to her ongoing list of things to research.
Oz hesitated. “Is this going to be another innuendo?” he asked, deep voice dripping with suspicion.
Eleonore found the contrast between the two demons interesting. Astaroth might be the elder by centuries, but he spoke with a mortal British accent, while Oz’s accent was pure demon: lilting, with some vowels clipped and others lengthened compared to American or British English.
She wondered if she would finally stick around one time and place long enough for her own accent to evolve as vampires’ always did. Already she was using more slang, and it wouldn’t take long for the remnants of France in her voice to disappear.
Astaroth widened his eyes. “Innuendo? Me?” he asked innocently. “Never. Besides, tenderizing steak is a well-known cooking technique.”
Oz eyed him warily. “No, I did not tenderize the steak.”
Astaroth gasped and clapped a hand to his chest. “Oz, Oz, Oz,” he said, shaking his head. “How many times must I tell you the importance of beating your meat ?”
Themmie burst into bright cackles, Rani snorted, and Calladia spit out a mouthful of beer. Eleonore might not be familiar with that particular slang, but there was enough context to figure it out.
Oz leveled his former mentor with a damning look and raised the tongs, snapping them menacingly. “If you don’t leave me alone to grill, you won’t have any meat left to beat.”
Astaroth winced and backed away with hands held up. “I shall retreat with my dignity and manly parts intact.”
Calladia hauled him in for a deep kiss that involved roving hands and a lot of tongue. “It’s cute,” she said when they finally parted.
“What?” Astaroth panted, having clearly forgotten everything in the wake of that kiss. Eleonore didn’t blame him—her succubus senses were afire with the couple’s lust for each other. The evening air was cool enough that her leather jacket was welcome, but she was tempted to fan herself.
Calladia patted the demon’s ass and winked. “That you think you have any dignity left.”
That elicited more laughter from Themmie and Rani, and Oz joined in, his joy booming across the yard. Even Eleonore found herself smiling, though she barely knew these people.
She barely knew them, yet she already liked them. On the grand scale she barely knew Ben either, and she liked him even more.
It was dangerous to get attached, like daring the universe—for she no longer believed in the gods of her youth—to take them away. Yet here she was, growing attached to this place and these people anyway.
“Want a beer?” Ben asked her.
Eleonore nodded. “The pine tree one, if they have it.”
He grinned. “One IPA coming up, so long as you promise not to throw the bottle once you’re done with it.”
Her cheeks felt hot at the reminder of how she’d embarrassed herself on her first night in Glimmer Falls. “No smashing bottles,” she promised. “Or threatening anyone.”
Mariel came out with a tray of cookies and set them on a plastic table. “Are you still grilling?” she asked Oz.
He scowled at the steak. “It’s not cooking.”
Mariel took one look—then started to laugh. “The grill isn’t on, you doofus.”
That elicited an explosion of hilarity from everyone assembled, punctuated by Astaroth’s exclamation, “Oz, you have to get turned on before you can properly handle your meat!” Which was followed by the tongs flying through the air and narrowly missing Astaroth’s head.
Eleonore accepted a glass bottle from Ben, grinning at the antics of his friends. “I like this,” she said.
“Me, too.” Ben clinked his own bottle against hers. “Santé.”
“Santé,” she repeated, pleased he’d remembered.
The evening unrolled pleasantly from there. Once the grill was lit, the meat cooked quickly, and soon they were eating delicious steak, roasted vegetables, Themmie’s pork-stuffed lumpia, and Mariel’s cookies. Eleonore had feared she’d be out of place, but everyone seemed friendly and genuinely curious about her life. She relaxed, letting the IPA, food, and company loosen her tongue until she was sharing stories of her youth she’d long since thought forgotten.
She found herself standing next to Rani at one point while Oz cleaned the grill and Calladia, Astaroth, Mariel, and Ben played a game with the unusual name of “cornhole.” It involved throwing small bags at a plank of wood while Themmie drunkenly heckled from where she was perched in a tree.
“Your friends are funny,” Eleonore said, sipping her second beer.
“Hilarious,” Rani agreed. The naiad was gorgeous, with smooth brown skin and long black hair. Her scales were barely visible at her hairline, their rainbow colors muted away from water. “And so nice. I was nervous when I first got invited to one of these, but now it feels like I’ve known them forever.”
“I was nervous, too,” Eleonore admitted. “My social skills are not always…modern.” One way to put it. “But they don’t seem to mind.”
“Your social skills are fine.”
“Even when I said the steak knife was sharp enough to disembowel someone quite neatly?” She’d meant it as a compliment, but the pause before Mariel had said, “Wow, I never thought about that before!” had made her realize perhaps they had different ideas of what made for a good knife.
Rani snorted. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all weird, and Oz and Astaroth say things like that, too. You’re from a different time and worked as an assassin; everyone gets that.” She nodded toward Ben. “I haven’t seen Ben this happy in a long time. He likes having you around.”
Eleonore blushed. “I like being around,” she said softly. Words that hid a deeper confession.
“He’s a good guy,” Rani said, “but he worries too much and runs himself ragged trying to help everyone. He needs someone who gives him the care he gives everyone else. Someone who can help protect him.”
It was a message—and a question. Eleonore nodded. “I would gut anyone who harmed him,” she said seriously.
Rani’s lips quirked, and she clinked her bottle against Eleonore’s. “Cheers to that. But he also needs someone who can help protect him from his own generous impulses. He doesn’t know how to say no, so he ends up knitting a million scarves and cooking for people and helping with home repairs even if he doesn’t have the time for it.”
“Or he helps his sister with her mayoral campaign while opening a café.” Ben’s perpetual desire to be useful hadn’t been lost on her.
Rani nodded. “Exactly. He won’t ever admit he’s overcommitted, so I’m glad you see it.”
Guilt pricked Eleonore’s breast. “It doesn’t help that I showed up at the same time as all that. Now he’s driving me around and making me sandwiches and introducing me to his friends when he should be focusing on everything else going on.” And he was researching the curse in his spare time; she’d caught him face down on the keyboard late one night, snoring softly with how to break magical compulsionnjkjknnnnnkjkjnnnnnnnnnnnnnn typed into the internet search bar.
Eleonore had done plenty of internet searches on that same topic and the Witch in the Woods with no results. It was frustrating that even in a time when a world full of information could be accessed from anywhere, the witch still managed to remain an enigma.
“Maybe he is spending a lot of time on you,” Rani said, “but you know what else he’s doing?” She pointed at where Ben was laughing, head tipped back to expose the strong line of his throat. “He’s smiling and talking more than he has in ages.”
Eleonore rubbed her free hand over the soft ache in her chest. “I should start making him sandwiches. Or knit him something.” Knitting was simultaneously dull and complicated, but it would be far from the most objectionable thing she’d ever done.
“I mean, don’t go all fifties housewife,” Rani said with a laugh. “He enjoys knitting and cooking. And really, every good couple should have a soft one and a stabby one.”
A soft one and a stabby one. Eleonore liked that—almost as much as she liked hearing herself and Ben described as a couple . Mariel was obviously the soft one in her relationship, but she wasn’t sure of the others. She pointed at where Calladia and Astaroth were high-fiving to celebrate their cornhole victory. “Which one is the stabby one?”
“Oh, that’s a special case,” Rani said. “They’re both stabby.” She considered, head tilted. “But if I had to pick…Astaroth is the soft one.”
Eleonore chuckled. “I suspect he wouldn’t like to hear that.”
“Soft for her, anyway,” Rani said. “He does have a literal sword in that cane.”
Eleonore had noted the skull-topped cane Astaroth carried with him everywhere. She’d already accounted for its usefulness as a bludgeoning implement, but this was an interesting development. “Noted,” she said, eyeing the cane with new respect. Then she sobered. “So how do I best protect Ben? Besides gutting his enemies.”
Rani shrugged. “Just show him you care. Little gestures will go a long way. And maybe help him set some boundaries so he doesn’t work himself to death.”
Eleonore nodded, memorizing the instructions. “Thank you,” she told the naiad. “For helping me with Ben. I really do like him.” Her throat felt thick with how much.
Rani grinned. “I can tell. And hey, he’s waving at you.”
Eleonore turned to see Ben gesturing at her. “Want to help me get revenge on these two?” he called out, pointing at Astaroth and Calladia. Mariel was kissing Oz at the grill, apparently done with the game.
“I don’t think even an ancient assassin can help your aim, mate,” Astaroth said.
Eleonore narrowed her eyes at the demon. Oh, she was going to make him eat those words. She jogged over, stripping off her jacket. “I can pierce a cyclops’s eye with a knife from twenty paces,” she said. “This so-called ‘cornhole’ doesn’t stand a chance.”