Chapter 4 Someone’s in the Kitchen with Phinny
Someone’s in the Kitchen with Phinny
“Auntie Bandit! Auntie Bandit!” Five kids came running at the sound of Katu’s distinctive growl as Cha pulled into the drive at the picturesque rural cottage.
Phin Jr., the eldest and a kid with Dy’s golden curls, was the first to reach the fence that protected the kids from contact with the static line. “You haven’t been here in forever,” he scolded.
“Yeah, where have you been?” Zazu demanded as she jumped onto the fence right behind her brother.
A bright-eyed girl, she’d been named for Cha—poor thing—and, like Cha, never used her full name.
Arantzazu and Arantxa were variants on the same impossible name, thus their much sassier nicknames of Zazu and Cha.
Behind them, the twins scampered up, covered in mud. Edur and Xavia sported Phinny’s fiery red hair and similarly mischievous temperament. Edur hung back a bit, waiting for the barefoot toddler, Inigo, impatiently calling for him to hurry.
The ley line driveway came to an end and Katu halted there with the cessation of magic.
Because Dy could stabilize a ley line like nobody’s business, which meant no concerns about wasting expensive magic, Cha left Katu in carriage form.
That way he wouldn’t be tempted to go after the chickens, like last time.
Wincing at the memory of that foul—fowl?
—incident, she grabbed the squirming, squawking bag from the passenger seat and climbed out the open top of the carriage.
“I’ve been busy,” she answered their questions with not quite a lie.
“Can I drive the jag, Auntie Bandit?” Phin Jr. called hopefully.
Cha squinted at him as she stowed her sword safely out of reach in the rear storage compartment and locked it. “How old are you now—six?”
“Seven!” he answered with the high dudgeon that only a kid many years away from driving age could muster.
“Gotta be thirteen before you can touch ley magic,” she reminded him, shaking her head.
Even that was an arbitrary age. What fae magic did to adult human nervous systems, it did even worse to developing ones.
Kids that got sizzled never did grow up right.
She should know—she’d started riding the lines way too young.
Probably it had messed with her head, though it could be argued that she’d started out bad.
She handed the bag to Zazu who took it reverently. “Carry that for me? And,” she said, returning her attention to the budding ley rider, “you’ll need three more years after that to be licensed to ride the lines.”
“But Auntie Bandit, the moms let me…”
Cha barked out a laugh. “I know that’s not true, kid.
” Not only was Dy too responsible of a sorceress to risk a kid’s—any kid’s, but particularly her kid’s—brain development by letting them touch magic too early, but Phinny wouldn’t like it.
And what Phinny didn’t like, didn’t happen.
She had bodacious ta-ta’s and an even bigger will.
“Edur and Xavvy, you know I love you, but no hugs until you wash off that mud.”
“It’s not mud,” Xavia protested.
“Yeah,” Edur chimed in. “It’s actually—”
“I do not want to know,” Cha interrupted.
“The moms wouldn’t have to know about me riding the ley,” Phin Jr. argued, tagging at her heels with the other kids as Cha picked up Inigo, who clutched at her neck babbling nonsense.
He’d gotten so big since she last saw him.
She carried him toward the cottage with pretty eaves and flourishes worthy of a gingerbread house.
Dy and Phinny had a nice spot here. Not fancy, but comfortable, with the spreading limbs of oak trees casting deep shade over the pond, rosy moss spun by tiny haltija fae wisping dreamily in the slight breeze.
It was peaceful and homey, something Dy hadn’t known she wanted until Phinny provided it.
“Your moms know everything,” Cha told Phin Jr., smiling as sunnily as she could manage when Phinny burst out of the teal-painted doorway.
“That’s right I do,” Phinny declared, bodily blocking the doorway to the cottage, particularly effective with her very pregnant belly on assist. A big, wide-hipped, full-breasted woman with a mind as sharp as her tongue and a temper as hot as her fiery hair, Phinny seemed like a sweet-faced milkmaid until she opened her mouth.
“And I know you are not allowed here, Arantxa Evermore!”
Cha managed to disguise a wince. “No need to break out punishing full names, Phinny. I just arrived and I haven’t done anything.”
“Being a bad influence already,” Phinny replied with a sour expression for Junior.
“I told him no,” Cha protested.
She sniffed, planting fists on curvaceous hips. “You need only exist to be a bad influence. Why are you here?”
“Visiting old friends?” Cha asked hopefully.
“No, you’re not. Something’s up. What?” Phinny wasn’t magical herself, but she possessed a definitely uncanny ability to know what was going on with her family. But Cha hadn’t even talked to Dy yet, so Phinny couldn’t have picked up any vibrations, yet. Could she?
“It’s been a while,” Cha tried.
“It’s been a while because you are banned from visiting,” Phinny retorted. “Remember my prize egg-laying hen?”
“I left Katu in carriage form, didn’t I?
Besides, I brought you a present.” She held out a hand and Zazu promptly handed over the bag.
“Top breeder, they promised,” Cha said, as Phinny took the bag and peered in suspiciously.
“I never knew a chicken could be so expensive.” She’d spent twenty-five silvers from her championship purse on the fluffy, irascible creature, but she considered it a business investment. “They’re much cheaper already roasted.”
The hen in the bag let out an indignant squawk that matched the expression on Phinny’s face. “I don’t care what you had to pay. This is basic amends,” Phinny said, lifting the bag, “not worthy of a resumption of privileges.”
“The news I bring is worthy,” Cha assured her, not bothering to argue the merits of the fancy bird.
“What is it?” Phinny showed no signs of budging.
“I just need five minutes with Dy.” As a diversionary tactic, Cha thrust Inigo at Phinny, slightly off-center, so the other woman moved to the side to reflexively catch her child in the arm not holding the irate hen.
Cha took full advantage of the sliver of an opening between the door-dragon and the bright teal frame, angling her narrow body sideways and popping into the kitchen, feeling not unlike she’d skidded at high speed between a rhino-carriage and a scythe-tree.
“It smells fantastic in here,” she told Phinny with genuine enthusiasm, sniffing appreciatively as the other woman scowled and belatedly hastened after her. “Roast beast?”
“None for you!” Phinny snapped. “All you kids, outside. Xavvy and Edur, you wash off whatever that is at the well. Junior, take Inigo and do not, I repeat, do not touch that carriage. There’s a fence around that ley for a reason.
” She handed him the toddler, then the thrashing chicken bag back to Zazu. “Give her the good roost.”
The girl nodded enthusiastically, poking her face in the bag to coo at the chicken with a bravery that impressed Cha and worried her what kind of penalty she’d earn if her gift clawed out the eyes of one of the kids.
“Here,” Cha said, “there’s one for each of you.
” She handed a bag of fancy spun-sugar fae candies to Junior, glancing at Phin as she did. “For after the littles are washed up.”
Zazu, Edur, and Xavia banged out the screen door, happier about the prospect of washing now, while Phin Jr. set Inigo on his bare feet, walking with him more slowly, fishing out one of the special—and expensive—treats for the delighted toddler.
Phinny whirled on Cha. “Spun-sugar, really?”
Cha smiled weakly. “I just wanted to—”
“I don’t care. You will leave. You may not talk to Dymphna. She’s asleep and—”
“Asleep?” Cha spun in surprise, glancing at the bright sun out the cheerful kitchen window as if she might have lost track of time. “It’s late afternoon.” Cha had timed her arrival for Dy’s happy return home to a pretty cocktail and Phinny’s home-cooked meal.
Phinny grimaced. “They’ve got her on the night runs,” she admitted.
Cha gaped, not having to exaggerate for effect. She pointed at Phinny as if this was somehow her fault. “The whole point,” Cha said slowly, punctuating her words, “of Dy taking this stupid day job was so she could be at home at night with you and the kids.”
“I know that,” Phinny ground out, then pressed a hand to her swollen belly.
“Do you think I love this development? Well, I don’t,” she bit out before Cha could reply.
“I hate it. I hate everything about it, but this is what we have. And it’s still a hell of a lot better than me worrying about her being out on those runs with you, maybe getting arrested, thrown in jail, mutated by angry fae, or worse! ”
“Neither of us ever got mutated,” Cha protested. Though it had been close a few times.
“Luck!” Phinny nearly screeched.
“Skill,” Cha corrected calmly. “A combination of smarts, experience, and talent. That’s what Dy and I always had. That’s why you fell in love with her.”
Phinny stared at her wildly, then let out a little sob, pressing shaking fingers to her mouth. “Damn pregnancy. It’s got me all over emotional.”
Cha risked putting a hand on Phinny’s shoulder.
Once they’d been friends. Once they’d all been friends, thick as thieves, as the saying went—and which had been far too accurate, with Phinny serving as their fence, alibi, and lookout in the later years.
Until Dy got arrested in Obsidian and nearly gained a few appendages, before they bribed their way into having the sentence reduced.
“Maybe you’re emotional because you’re in a shit situation, hon. ”
Phinny nodded, face averted, not shrugging away from Cha’s comfort, even leaning into her hand a little.
“Dymphna is miserable. Oh, she won’t say so, but I can tell.
She’s restless. The ley magic required for this job…
It’s not enough for her. She wasn’t made for this life.
She’s too good of a sorceress and she’s restless not being able to use all her talents. I’m … afraid she’s going to leave me.”
“Never,” Cha said with easy conviction. “Dy loves you and the kids more than her own life.” More than the smuggling life, that was for sure, or she wouldn’t have given it up—along with her best friend—for Phinny.
Not that Cha was bitter. Or not much. She wanted Dy to be happy.
She just hadn’t realized Dy’s marriage would spell the end of their friendship.
It had happened so slowly…and then all at once.
“I only wanted her to be safe,” Phinny whispered. Then she lifted her head and gave Cha a flinty stare. “This is about a job, isn’t it?”
Cha eyed her warily. “You told me I’m not allowed to propose any more jobs.”
“Yes. So why are you here, wanting to do exactly that?”
“It’s really good money, Phin. Big money. Once in a lifetime money.”
Phinny gazed at her, clearly torn between hope and dread. She shook her head wearily. “Fine. Go ask her.” She turned to survey the spotlessly clean kitchen. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay for supper. I’ll make some bread to go with it. I suppose you still love my rosemary twists.”
It was a peace offering, one Cha hadn’t even remotely expected, especially not this fast. Things must be even worse than Phinny had let on. “Nobody in all the realms makes ‘em like you do, Phin. I’ve fair starved without them.”
“You go on with your charming ways,” Phinny protested, blushing. “I’m wise to your flattery, Arantxa Evermore.”
Cha clapped her hand to her heart as if struck. “My full name, twice in one morning! If you speak it a third time, will I be exorcised from your home?”
“I only wish,” Phinny retorted, but without venom. “Go wake her up. Say what you have to say. Then we’ll talk.” She gave Cha an impish smirk, the first real smile she’d produced so far. “Better you wake the fang-beast than me, for once. Consider it another penance.”