A Hint of Hydra

by Heidi Lang

  Lailu’s mouth watered at the thought of the tasty salad that these would be going into.

  “The nuts for that are still marinating over by the oven.” Greg pointed over his shoulder. “The peppercorn and lebinola is over there.” He crinkled his nose at the lebinola.

  “It will taste amazing, you’ll see.”

  “Whatever. And finally, we have the gorgon’s milk cheese, and orc bacon there.” He gestured to the last bowls hanging onto the edge of the crowded countertop. “Am I missing anything?”

  Lailu walked around, double-checking all their work and tasting the sauces. One could never be too careful with cooking. Especially for the Week of Masks parade. Practically the whole city turned out to watch all the students from the different academies show off, and to gawk at the royal family. There would be jugglers and dancers and music. But more important, there would be plenty of food booths set up along the main street.

  Since everything served had to be finger food, easy to eat on the go, it was challenging to create a proper feast. And hydra was not as flavorful as mountain dragon, so extra seasoning and marinades were important. Still, Lailu felt they had done an excellent job.

  She dabbed a final spoon into the peppercorn lebinola, letting the sweet and spicy taste linger on her tongue. “I think we’ve got everything.” She beamed. “This meal is officially—green!”

  “Officially green?”

  “Look at that steak you’re cutting.” Lailu pointed to the faint green streak through the middle and shook her head. “No wonder Gingersnap almost failed you.”

  “She did not almost fail me.”

  “Oh yeah? Even Sandy did better than you in that class.”

  “Well, I . . . I did well in the classes that mattered.”

  “I think it matters if you accidentally give your customers extra heads.”

  Greg sighed. “For the last time, Lailu, they would not have grown extra heads.”

  “Why don’t you eat some and find out?”

  “I’m not even dignifying that with a response.” Greg grabbed the purifying salts and rubbed them down his tainted knife to remove the poison.

  “Ahem,” Greg’s uncle said from the doorway to the kitchen. His gaze slid past Lailu as if she were a stain in the kitchen, just a spill waiting to be mopped up. “A few important clients will be arriving shortly to enjoy a snack and our pleasant ambiance before the festival. I really must insist you send your . . . guest . . . home before they arrive.”

  Lailu’s ears burned. Clearly the great Dante LaSilvian did not want his fancy diners to see her at his establishment.

  “We just need a little more time,” Greg said, but Lailu was already gathering her things. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. Every time she forgot how awful the aristocrats could be, one of them had to go and remind her that she didn’t really belong in their world. This was why she loved Mystic Cooking. It was the one place in this whole city that actually felt like home, like it wanted her.

  Dante left, closing the kitchen door firmly behind him.

  “Think you can handle the rest of the steaks?” she asked Greg, her voice only shaking a tiny bit.

  “Lailu, you don’t have to go, really,” Greg said.

  “N-no, it’s fine.”

  He sighed. “I can handle the rest of the steaks. And I’ll get the decorations set too, okay?” He set down his knife. “Want me to send for the carriage to bring you home?”

  “I’d rather walk.” Lailu didn’t want to ride in Dante’s carriage. She didn’t want to feel like she owed that man anything.

  “I’m sorry, Lailu,” Greg said sadly. “And . . . and for before, for ignoring you at the party. I understand now why that was so mean.”

  Lailu realized, for the first time, that she didn’t hold his aristocracy over him. “It’s okay. I mean, you were a total jerk—”

  “A complete and total jerk,” he agreed.

  Lailu smiled. It wasn’t her best smile, but the tightness in her chest eased some. “Well, as Master Gingersnap used to say, once you know the theory behind it, you can fix anything.”

  Greg’s mouth twisted. “Are you sure she said that? Because that actually sounds almost useful.”

  “Of course I’m sure. But then, I actually paid attention in her class.”

  “Watch it.”

  Lailu grinned, then headed outside into the cool evening air. But as soon as the door to LaSilvian’s Kitchen closed behind her, her grin dropped away.

  She took a deep breath and started walking. She took the side streets, noticing that on Gilded Island, even the alleyways were so clean, they sparkled.

  Click-click-click.

  Lailu’s blood froze. She scanned the street, searching the shingles on the rooftops.

  Click-click.

  Something was definitely there, watching her from the shadows.

  19

  SOMETHING IN THE SHADOWS

  It’s been following me all day,” said a voice from right behind Lailu.

  Lailu spun so hard, she fell over.

  “Ryon!” Lailu picked herself up. “What are you doing here? And why do you always hide in the shadows like that? It’s not nice.” She brushed the dirt from her trousers.

  “I never claimed to be nice.” Ryon gazed past her.

  The sky had turned into the slate gray of early evening, too overcast to see the sun. Lailu couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Did being part elf give Ryon better senses?

  “What is it?” Lailu whispered.

  “I’m not sure, but whatever it is has been tailing me off and on since I left Mystic Cooking yesterday.” Ryon ran a hand over his face. He had bags under his eyes, and his clothing was even more rumpled than usual. It looked like he’d slept in it, if he’d slept at all. “I did manage to lose it temporarily in the Industrial District at night, but it found me again this morning.” He grinned. “Must be my animal magnetism.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Do?” Ryon’s smile was small and as brittle as a stale cookie. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just going to go about the rest of my day like all the other mundane holiday celebrators and hope that whatever it is eventually gets bored and goes away.”

  Lailu scowled. “That sounds like a terrible plan. What if it attacks you?”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Click-click.

  Lailu turned but couldn’t see anything at all. She thought of the noises she had heard in the swamp and of Walton’s disturbingly threatening glare that morning. Suddenly Ryon seemed very small, and very vulnerable.

  “This is serious, you know. I heard something similar in the swamp before I found Carbon. It might be the same thing that killed him.”

  Ryon’s eyes widened. “Interesting. Still, can’t be helped. Errands to run and all that.”

  Lailu wanted nothing more than to get back to Mystic Cooking and grab a nap before tonight’s street festival. Sighing, she pushed her warm, comfortable bed from her thoughts. “Let’s go,” she said.

  “You’re . . . coming with me?”

  “Not that you seem to care, but I’d actually feel bad if you were murdered.” Lailu glared at him. “Probably,” she added. She didn’t like the idea of being followed by some sort of creepy creature she couldn’t see, but it bugged her even more that Ryon was taking the whole thing so lightly. Someone died, and if Lailu gambled half as much as her mentor used to, she’d bet that whatever was watching them held an important clue.

  “You know, you really are my favorite chef.” Ryon grinned broadly. “I won’t even wink the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Wow, you’re so generous.”

  “I know. It’s my only real fault.”

  Lailu snorted, falling into step beside Ryon. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re paying a visit to Paulie.”

  Lailu froze. “Paulie? As in Paulie Anna, the witch?”

  “That
would be the one. I need something to take care of wormrot at my home.”

  Lailu wrinkled her nose. “Wormrot?”

  “Yep. A mystical fungus that’s quite common in these parts. Grows on wood, and can really damage the strength of a building if not treated soon enough,” Ryon said. “You should scrape some off and try to make it into a salad or something.”

  “Ha ha.”

  It was hard to picture Ryon living in an ordinary house and taking care of domestic things. He was just so . . . sneaky. She tried imagining him doing dishes or folding laundry, and it made her head ache. And now that she knew he was half elf, she had to wonder if that changed anything for him. Did he have magic? Did he spend half his time among the elves? She realized she had no idea what he did when he wasn’t busy skulking around and winking at people.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re trying to decide what kind of dish I could be cooked into.”

  Lailu smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of cooking you. But if I did, it would be a delicious pot pie. I would call it Mystic Cooking’s Skulduggery Special.”

  Ryon laughed. Still, despite how lighthearted he seemed, Lailu couldn’t help but notice how he kept an eye on every shadow. And every once in a while, she’d hear the click-click-click of whatever was following him. It made her skin feel tight and itchy, and she was almost relieved when they reached Paulie’s Potions.

  Almost.

  “Are those human skulls?” Lailu asked, eyeing the window in front.

  “Don’t worry, they’re fake.” Ryon peered closer at them. “I think,” he amended. He climbed up the steps two at a time, leaving Lailu to either hurry after him or stand there feeling like a scared little kid. She shifted nervously. Back in her village, people tended to stay away from anyone who did magic. And after Lailu’s experience with the elves, she didn’t blame them. She could still remember the taste of sulfur, the hunger for blood, the way she’d begun oozing into a new shape, her old one as forgotten as a distant dream.

  Loosening her knife in its sheath, she reluctantly tiptoed up the stairs to join Ryon.

  From inside Lailu thought she could hear a woman laughing, and a man’s voice. “Maybe we should come back? And by ‘we,’ I mean ‘you,’ ” Lailu said. “She sounds busy.”

  “What’s the matter? Chicken?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You really don’t like those creatures, do you?” He smirked. “Maybe Paulie might turn you into one. You know, just for an hour or two.”

  Lailu blanched and almost fell off the porch. “C-could she really do that?”

  He shrugged, then knocked.

  “You mean you don’t know?” Lailu was feeling worse and worse about this.

  “I’m actually not sure what the limits are when it comes to human magic. But I don’t think so—”

  The door opened abruptly. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a moment,” a young woman said to someone behind her.

  Lailu gaped at her. She had long, wavy black hair and bright purple eyes, and she looked barely older than Ryon. Hands down, she was the most beautiful girl Lailu had ever seen . . . well, aside from Hannah. This was Paulie Anna? This was the witch of Twin Rivers?

  “You’re here about that wormrot, aren’t you?” she asked Ryon.

  “You read my mind.”

  Lailu felt sick. “She can read minds too?” she whispered.

  Paulie heard her. The witch’s elegantly shaped brows lifted, and she let out a peal of laughter that seemed to brighten the air around her. “Don’t worry, sweet one. It was just a little joke. Ryon sent a message ahead.”

  “Oh.” Lailu’s face burned.

  “Come in, come in,” Paulie said, stepping back.

  “We wouldn’t like to interrupt your guest,” Ryon said carefully.

  “I’m sure he won’t mind,” Paulie said, urging Ryon and then Lailu inside. “I don’t like to leave my front door open too long. The veil between is much too thin on a week like this.”

  “The veil between? Between what?” Lailu asked.

  Paulie just smiled mysteriously.

  Lailu wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she followed Ryon inside, but Paulie’s shop was small and very tidy. Surprisingly so, considering every shelf was full, and stacks of labeled jars and pouches covered every counter. Lailu could smell a hundred different herbs and spices, especially cinnamon. It reminded her of her mother’s poultices.

  A very familiar face sat at a corner table.

  “Vahn?” Lailu said.

  Vahn’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh, Lil—er, I mean, Lailu.” He grinned uneasily and ran a hand through his long golden hair. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He stood up. “I should be on my way.”

  “This will just take a second, handsome,” Paulie told him.

  “No, no, I’ve taken up too much of your time as it is.” He glanced at Lailu, then away. “Thank you, er, for your help.” He stepped around Ryon and hurried outside.

  “My help?” Paulie frowned. Then she shrugged and handed Ryon a jar off the counter. “It’s freshly cut and cooked. Just sprinkle it around the foundation at the next full moon, and that should take care of it.”

  “Thank you,” Ryon said, sounding politer than Lailu had ever heard him before. “And . . . payment?”

  Paulie cocked her head to the side. “The usual, I think.”

  Ryon nodded. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Have a pleasant evening, the both of you,” Paulie called as Ryon and Lailu left, the door closing softly behind them.

  “This is where I leave you,” Ryon said, hefting his jar. “Have a pleasant evening,” he said, imitating Paulie’s voice almost perfectly.

  “Wait, Ryon.” Lailu grabbed his arm. “What about that clicking creature?”

  “Left us again at the edge of Gilded Island.” He winked.

  “Hey, you promised!”

  “Sorry. Old habits die hard.” He strolled down the street, practically whistling.

  Wham!

  Something about the size of two of Lailu’s fists shot out from behind a building and slammed into him.

  Ryon staggered, his jar of wormrot powder smashing to the ground. “Gah!” he cried, grappling with the thing. It came on relentlessly, scuttling up his arm and then latching on with its six long appendages.

  “Ahh, get it off!” Ryon punched at it, then tried prying at its legs.

  Lailu was by his side in an instant, her knife in her hand. She wavered. She couldn’t use the blade, not without slicing Ryon. And anyhow, it was a thing of metal. How could she cut it?

  It lifted its metallic head and hissed at Lailu. Just like the automatons, it had two glowing blue eyes. It also had a line slashed horizontally across its “face.” That line opened into a crack, then widened until it revealed two sharp needles.

  “Lailu!” Ryon yelled. “Don’t just stand there!”

  Lailu reversed her knife and slammed the hilt into the thing. Its head dented, but it wasn’t enough; it sank its needle-teeth deep into Ryon’s arm.

  He cried out, falling to his knees in the street.

  “Get off my friend!” Lailu used her knife hilt again, bashing it on the head as hard as she could. Again. And again.

  Finally it fell backward, its legs twitching, its head a ruined crumple of metal. But before Lailu or Ryon could do anything, it flipped back over and scuttled away.

  “What . . . the spatula . . . was that?” Lailu asked.

  Ryon held his arm against his chest. “I have no idea. But—and I know this might just be the blood loss speaking here—I don’t think it wished me well.” He winced.

  Lailu shook her head, smiling despite her fear. “I don’t think so either.” She sheathed her knife.

  “Caught me the moment I got distracted . . . let down my guard.” He staggered to his feet, swaying. “Gonna . . . see Paulie. She’ll . . . patch me
up.” His words slowed, then slurred into nothing. He wobbled, and Lailu caught him.

  “Ryon? Ryon!” Lailu slung his good arm over her shoulders, then half walked, half carried him back to Paulie’s door.

  “Oh my,” Paulie said as she let them inside. “You didn’t make it very far, did you? Here, lay him in back.”

  Lailu told Paulie what happened as the two of them moved Ryon to a cot in the back of the small shop.

  “Needles?” Paulie’s purple eyes widened in alarm. She brought out a small jar and smeared a pungent poultice on Ryon’s arm and forehead, then muttered a few words under her breath.

  She sat back. “Oh good,” she breathed. “It doesn’t look like he was injected with anything. Whatever that thing was, it just took a bunch of his blood.”

  “And that’s . . . that’s good?” Lailu asked.

  “That means he’ll recover just fine if he gets enough rest and fluids. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Paulie nodded. “I know you don’t know me or trust me, and I respect that. But Ryon is one of my oldest friends. I’ll keep him safe.”

  Lailu didn’t realize they were friends. But then, there was a lot about Ryon she didn’t know.

  As Lailu walked home, she whispered a quick prayer to Chushi to protect her friend. She knew Ryon could take care of himself, but she kept seeing Carbon’s terrified face, frozen forever in death, and the way that metal thing had come sailing out of nowhere, relentless and unstoppable.

  It just took a bunch of his blood.

  Lailu bit her lip. It had to be something the scientists had created. Did it attack Ryon on Starling’s orders? And if so, why?

  20

  WHAT’S IN A NAME

  Lailu tugged on her black vest. It flared out gently like a skirt, giving the whole ensemble a more feminine touch that she actually liked.

  “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a faint smile I see on your face?” Hannah looked pleased as punch. “Does this mean that the outfit meets your approval?”