Tuning back in to what the clerk said, she asked, “Is it possible to place an order for one to be made today?”
“Child, please. Those pies are made in a factory and shipped to the stores. But I tell you what I can do. Wait right here for a moment.”
Hildy watched the clerk go to the back and come back just as fast with a piece of paper in her hand. Handing it to Hildy she said, “Here you go, hun. With all the craziness over those pies, corporate gave us permission to print out the ingredients and a recipe to make them yourself.” The clerk pointed at the paper as she added, “Here’s the grocery list right here, and down here are the instructions to make your own.”
Hildy stared at the paper as if it was a piece of alien material.
“Um, thanks but I don’t cook. What I meant was to place an order to have you make the pie and I pick it up later today before you close for the holiday.”
“Sweet Baby, I know what you meant and I can’t do that. You see, the deli and bakery are closing early to clean all the machines and do inventory. We have to get ready for the New Year’s Eve orders and that means we need to have an accurate account of inventory before we leave today.”
Hildy couldn’t care less about inventory. She wanted her damned pie—now. Opting to play nice, she asked, “Well then, is there any other place where I can find a sweet potato pie, or place an order to have one made?”
The clerk glanced at a simple digital watch, clicked her teeth and soundly said, “No. Sweet baby, all the other stores closed yesterday. This is Christmas Eve and we the only fools still open today.” She pointed at the paper in Hildy’s hand and said again, “You can make that pie yourself. The instructions are real easy—easy enough for anyone to do it. I believe in you. If I had time, I’d take you around and help you get your list, but I got that big old bread mixer to clean before I can sweep and mop up. You got this. Okay, Sweet Baby?”
Why was she calling her that?
“No, no I don’t think so. Ma’am, I have one spoon, plate, and bowl. I lost the fork and knife. That’s the extent of my culinary skills.”
The clerk looked at her in amazement. “You mean to tell me your momma didn’t teach you anything about the kitchen?”
Stinging pain lanced Hildy across the chest as she considered that statement. Then with measured calm she answered, “No, ma’am, I never knew my mother or if I ever had one.” Hildy often wondered if she’d been born or hatched in some secret government testing facility. Seeing the sadness cross the clerk’s face, she course-corrected. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you sad. I was an orphan from a baby, is all.”
Then she was locked in a hug from the short, little clerk. Hildy went with it, allowing the much smaller woman to rock her back and forth as she said, “Oh, Sweet Baby, you poor sweet little baby.”
When Hildy thought it was proper, she used a non-threatening dislodging technique to pry herself out of the woman’s hold. But she had to know.
“Thank you for that kindness.” Boldness struck and she asked, “Why do you keep calling me Sweet Baby though? I’m way larger than you and have it on good authority that I don’t have much of anything sweet about me.”
The clerk looked at her and Hildy could swear she had a tear in her eye.
“Ah, that’s where they’re all wrong. You have one of the sweetest hearts I’ve seen in a while. I see peoples every day. I know folks and I know when I see a precious soul. You one of them. You like a little baby, sweet and yet trying to be all big and grown. How old are you?”
The compulsion to answer had Hildy giving the woman an answer without hesitation. “I’m twenty-three. Will be twenty-four in January.”
“Well, you a Janus baby. You can look backward and forward at the same time. That’s a gift you know. So, that would make you a Capricorn baby then?”
“I don’t know. I never paid much attention to that sort of stuff.”
“I can tell. You born in the first half of the month, right?”
Hildy nodded, not sure what the woman was getting at. Her birthday was in the middle of the month, but no use adding that detail. The clerk appeared to think she was on to something about Hildy. She’d let the clerk have that little victory. It was the holidays after all.
“That makes you a Capricorn baby. You got a good head on your shoulders. It takes you a minute to warm up to peoples but when you do, you is loyal.”
“Um… okay.” Seeing a chance to try one more time, Hildy asked, “So would the fact that I’m a Sweet Baby Capricorn persuade you to make me a sweet potato pie then?”
The clerk laughed loud. Hildy looked around, hoping this didn’t draw any attention to them. The last thing she needed was to get kicked out of another supercenter.
“Oh, Sweet Baby, if I wasn’t getting on the road after work tonight to see my grand babies, I would. I would have you stop by the house and pick up one. I usually make about eight of them when I’m home. But this year, I’m going to see one of my sons and his family. Else, I’d be happy to make you a pie. You act like something bad will happen if you don’t have one. You like them that much?”
“Funny, I’ve never had one. I just thought since so many people are on the hunt for this pie, that it might be a special treat for the holiday.”
“I guess so, but it’s sort of a staple for good home-cooked desserts. It just recently got big and popular. Most folks usually would eat a pumpkin pie for the holidays. But let one celebrity put a face on the pie and another one of them video boys make a video about how good it is and here we are. Used to be that many of those pies would sit here with me through the holidays.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. Just goes to show how much folks want what other people want.”
True. Hildy was one of them. She wanted a family. But was willing to settle for a damn sweet potato pie, if it would make her feel a little less alone for the holidays. This was the worst one yet. She didn’t want to be alone this year.
7
It was a stringy, soupy, undercooked, hot mess.
Hildy had let that, “Sweet Baby”, crap from the kind clerk go to her head. Believing the hype, she’d ventured off to get the fixings for a pie. She’d successfully duped her own self into believing that lady with her blasted, “Anyone can make that pie” hypnotic trickery.
Her creation wasn’t a pie. It was a blackened concoction of burnt on the top, raw inside and sporting a film of wax paper. Unbeknownst to her, the pie shells had wax paper covers. The one she’d used was darn near invisible, but made its presence known once the pie was cooked. Her little efficiency apartment smelled like a burned cinnamon and nutmeg spice bomb had gone off and she wanted to cry.
Not only was the pie burned, there were still egg shells in the batter that she couldn’t fish out. Sitting on the counter, next to the sink, were more egg shells from practice. They taunted her, reminding Hildy of all the life skills training she didn’t get growing up. Intent to learn how to crack an egg, she’d bought an eighteen-count carton of eggs to practice breaking. It looked so easy when others did it online. The ones she’d gotten must have been defective because those shells were straight from hell. Once they got in the pie mix, it had been hell getting them out. She’d tried everything, only to end up mixing them into the batter, thinking they’d cook down to nothing. She didn’t have a mixer and thought a brisk hand whisking would be enough.
Nope, the first and only bite she took was a raw, crunchy disaster full of sweet potato strings. Gross. And she promptly spit it out when the crunch of an egg shell sent shivers through her body.
Hildy could take out a target almost two miles away with a rifle, with wind. What she couldn’t do was cook or make a “simple” pie for the holidays. Hell, she couldn’t cook so what made her think she could bake? It finally hit her. If all the restaurants were closed today, she be starving. Something as important as making sure she at least had cereal to eat had flown out the window. The obsession with this pie had made her screwy in the head.<
br />
The stove clock said it was after three o’clock in the morning—Christmas Day. The original trip from the other day was supposed to include food to make it through the holiday week. Getting into that fight with Ajax had thrown her off. With no food on site other than the stuff to fix that damn pie, Hildy was going to starve.
“I’ve got to be able to eat. Please, oh please let somebody be open today,” she prayed, opening up her phone to locate restaurants open on Christmas.
She lived in the not-so-great part of the city. A place not even the gentrification folks would touch. So what if part of her building was burned and exposed to the elements. It worked for her and the rent was super affordable. That also meant her prepared food options were less than perfect. Scanning her usual haunts on the search engine page confirmed her suspicion, all of them were closed.
Time to expand the distance. After continuing to expand the distance search to one that was out of walking range, even for her, tiredness took over. Hildy collapsed, face down on top of the bed coverings, not bothering to take off her clothes or brush her teeth. There would be time to deal with all of this when she woke up. She slept in the spice-infused haze of her pie-making adventures.
Six hours later…
Wakeful awareness seized her as the fullness of the morning sun greeted her. Waking like this wasn’t unusual. With her line of work, it was easy to wake fully alert, sometimes with the jitters from her previous night’s antics. Deep sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Sliding down the crumpled bedspread to rest her butt on the barren concrete floor, Hildy’s stomach growled. That was all the motivation she needed to continue the great quest for food on Christmas Day. After a hot long bath and intense scrub down of the kitchen disaster from last night, she started the quest for edible food again. Almost midday now and her stomach felt like it was eating her back.
Yes! A diner, fourteen point six miles away, was open all day. In the meantime, maybe she could figure out how to scramble eggs in the microwave.
“Stop this foolishness and get to walking,” she said, hoping the idea sounded sane outside her head. Fourteen miles was a good hike for food, but what choice did she have? It was either that or run the risk of food poisoning or kitchen fire with her luck.
A check of the outside temperature had it at a manageable cold. With a brisk walking pace, she might work up a sweat. Dressing for the elements, she left her apartment intent on making it to that diner. The first five miles had been a breeze. Now the directions wanted her to take a detour around the Interstate. Recalculating and changing the directions to walking distance, put the diner at almost eighteen miles. Attempting to walk a little more than a half marathon in the cold had been crazy, adding four more miles to that would be pure insanity.
“Don’t give up, there’s food somewhere around here.” She coaxed herself into inducing a temporary suspension of her worst fear—starvation. “Think, what’s another option?”
At least the sun was bright, heating up the part of the street it had direct access to. The other parts that were hidden in shade had a little chill to them. Would she have enough time to make it to the diner before the sun went down? At this rate, she needed to go another thirteen miles. Insanity.
“And the day just keeps on giving. Thank you, Christmas,” she said, not caring if anyone saw her talking to herself. Then it dawned on her to try her ride share app again. Maybe now someone was out and willing to drive her. Plus, it didn’t hurt that she was in a better part of town too. Another reason why she needed to save up and get a car. “Duh, sometimes I scare myself with these flashes of brilliance.” She laughed at her on joke.
Allowing the app time to do its thing, that pulsing circle finally confirmed a ride was five minutes away. Hildy wanted to do a dance like the ones players did after a touchdown. Who knew food starvation could produce such exciting delirium? Pacing in a tight circle to keep warm and have something to do until her ride showed up, Hildy’s thoughts drifted back to Ajax. She wondered what he was up to today. He was most likely home with his family, enjoying them and having great food.
A smart hybrid sedan pulled up, matching the description from the app. Hildy wanted to kiss the driver as she hopped in the front seat. After buckling up and confirming her destination, they were off. If she didn’t think he’d toss her out for being a weirdo, Hildy would have broken out into song about going to the diner and all the things she was going to eat. Instead, she remained quiet, hugging the door as they made their way to her food salvation.
8
Ajax, 5th Floor of the Lair, Christmas Day Morning
“And you’re sure she was a Harpy?” Lucien Drake asked him.
“Yeah. Her feathers and overall look were in line with her age. She’s young. I’d put her in her early twenties.”
“No elongation of the neck and swan-like moves when shifted? What about her voice?”
“No Luc, I know the difference between a mature Siren and an immature Harpy. I know what I saw, and remember, I was a close-up recipient of her ability to fight yesterday. The woman is a highly trained operative. The way she took out Larry G was too quick and clean for her not to be. She even confirmed she works for some secret agency.”
“The name you gave me—Hildy—its unusual. I had Greg and Blaise do a sweep for her name, including Hildegard, from their contacts and nothing, has turned up.”
“Look, I know what I feel. She’s the one. When I touched her, it confirmed what I felt before. Luc, you’ve got to help me find her. I’m going crazy here.”
Ajax tried his best to give his eldest brother that look that got him his way. It had been working since he was a hatchling. Right now, it was a toss-up as to whether or not it still had any pull with him. Lucien Drake, Luc, as they called him, was the oldest and leader of the Dragofin Clan.
“If what you say is true and you think she’s your mate—”
“I know she’s my mate.”
“Okay, then if she’s your mate, we have to believe the Goddess will bring you two together very soon. As I’ve said before, when a dragon meets his mate, he becomes magnetically attracted to her.”
“And that’s why I believe we met up again last night. I wonder what’s she’s doing today? What if she’s alone?”
“And if she is, are you going to ditch us to go looking for her on Christmas day?”
“Um—yeah! Don’t make fun of this. If it were you, I’m sure you wouldn’t tolerate any of this from us. Have some compassion.”
Ajax sensed someone coming to the door. Lucien hollered out, “Come in Greg!”
Greg, Lucien’s second in command, his partner gryphon and Matt’s eldest brother, came into the meeting area. Going over to his seat in the circle of recliners, he sat and looked back and forth between Lucien and Ajax.
“Well, any updates?” Ajax couldn’t stand Greg being his usually contemplative self. He needed answers.
Greg smiled at him and spoke. “No, I didn’t find out anything new. But I did come to remind you that it’s time for you to go pick up the order from Miss Connie’s Diner. We’re hungry.”
Greg was usually one of Ajax’s favorite people after his brother Matt. But right now, all Ajax wanted to do was slap the taste out of his mouth.
Lucien gave him a grin and motioned to the door.
“I’ll be glad when my dragon joining is completed. I may be the youngest, but I’m not some errand boy.”
“For now you are,” Lucien said, continuing to grin at him.
“Yeah, well since I’m going out anyway, I’m going to make a trip back to the area where I saw Hildy last night. You never know, she might be around.”
“What will you do if you find her?” Greg asked.
“I’ll invite her to spend Christmas with us.”
“That is if you can be nice enough to get her to say yes. I heard when you meet your mate the attraction is so strong, it might resemble anger or irritation.”
“Yeah, I definitely feel that when I’m
around her. How do I make sure to be nice?”
Greg was about to respond when Lucien gave him a silent look of caution. Ajax caught himself holding his breath. No use getting worked up about this. He’d listen to what his brother had to say and still do what he wanted—find Hildy.
Lucien sat up in his recliner. “Don’t be so hasty with that invite. Didn’t you say she’s a trained assassin?”
“I said she might be an assassin. And what do you care? You’re Lucien Drake the biggest, baddest dragon to ever protect the portals as a guardian warrior.”
“That’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think, Jax.”
“Haha, but it’s true. What could one little Harpy do to a Clan of Dragons and Gryphon? If we can’t protect ourselves from that, what are we doing here anyway?”
“Trying to poke my ego isn’t going to work, Jax. We need to vet her before exposing ourselves and the Lair to her. What if she’s part of that crazed group who hunts shifters? Huh? And have you taken the time to think about the other end of that spectrum?”
“What are you getting at, Luc?”
“Exactly. What I’m getting at are her safety and welfare. Just because she’s a shifter doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll be able to handle the effects the Lair could have on her. It could harm her, mentally, physically, or even on a molecular level. This Lair is our home, but it’s potentially dangerous for others. You do remember how many crossing dimensions it straddles and not to mention all the wards I have protecting it.”
A fierce need to protect Hildy and yet have her close sprang up in Ajax. He’d be willing to go and be with her if she couldn’t withstand the Lair. Lucien still droned on about all the side effects of the Lair on humans.
“Her body may behave more like the human part of her than the shifter.” Ajax sensed the other shoe of Lucien’s argument about to drop. “Ajax, think for a minute. What if she’s like Julia after all?”
Ajax's Harpy Holiday: Dragofin Mated: Book 1 (A Dragon-Gyphon Shifter Curvy Paranormal-Fantasy-Scifi Romance Series) (Dragonfin Clan Mated) Page 4
