Recipe
“Where are you going with those?”
Book in hand, Ray leaned against the doorframe to his study and watched as Laila
raced down the hallway, hands full of cream-colored feathers. Florian was in
close pursuit, wings fluttering in agitation, but held close enough not to cause
damage.
Amused, Ray retreated to his desk but left the door open. He’d learned to wait
until the shouting started before trying to intervene. After twelve minutes of
suspicious silence, curiosity got the better of him.
There was sheet music on the floor in the music room and several paintings were
askew in the hall. He tidied absently as he went, alert to any sounds of
distress or unfortunate odors as he neared the kitchen. Hiring a full-time cook
hadn’t diminished Laila’s enthusiasm for trying new recipes but it had cut down
on the household’s medical expenses.
“Of course it will work,” Laila was saying as Ray opened the kitchen door
cautiously and peered inside. The cook had gone to the market and Laila and
Florian were standing at the table with an array of bowls and pots between them.
Florian’s wings were “put away”, rendering them
invisible, a good but surprising sign that Ray wouldn’t have to play mediator.
“That incantation worked, didn’t it? That’s like a recipe and I got that right,”
Laila insisted when Florian failed to agree to whatever her latest scheme was. A
small pile of his feathers lay on the table beside an assortment of fruit and a
half-dozen jars of dried herbs. Off to the side was an old book, open to the
middle with a loose, tattered page resting on top.
“You did, and I’m grateful to be able to hide the wings. I was getting tired of
being confined to the house.” Florian reached out and picked up one of his
discarded feathers. He’d been molting and every time he brought his wings out
they were accompanied by a shower of loose feathers. “But that doesn’t mean you
should try recipes from every book you find. You don’t even know where this one
came from.”
“I found it in a box with a lot of other old cookbooks in that villa we rented
in Rome. I told you about it then, but you were too distracted by your new wings
to listen.”
Ray could almost hear Florian’s unspoken response – it was well known that the
man often tuned out of Laila’s enthusiastic ramblings, but Florian valued his
life too much to actually say it.
“It’s not like it will hurt anything to try,” Laila insisted as she cheerfully
tossed ingredients into the largest bowl in her array. “The recipe is called
fruit gems – probably some kind of compote - how bad could it be?”
Ray had to cover his mouth to muffle his laughter at Florian’s expression. The
last “how bad could it be” recipe had rendered most of the household (but not
Laila) violently ill for nearly a week.
“Hand me the basil,” Laila demanded, not bothering to look up from her recipe.
She was cavalier about measurements, tossing in pinches or handfuls without
hesitation, while Florian squawked and shoved measuring cups and spoons at her.
Ray opened the door wider and settled in for the show.
"Is it supposed to smell like that?" Florian asked, leaning back and wrinkling
his nose.
"It's fine," Laila assured him off-handedly as she tossed in some dried leaves
and what appeared to be a small root. She gave the whole thing a stir using one
of Florian's feathers, ignoring the way the man winced. There was a faint "poof"
and a cloud of noxious brown smoke rose from the bowl sending her and Florian
backwards, coughing.
Ray smirked in amusement - both at the expressions on their faces and because
they still hadn't noticed him. He prided himself on being stealthy, but his
companions were so absorbed in Laila's latest experiment he didn't even have to
try to hide.
"Is that it?" Florian demanded a bit nasally. He was holding his nose as he
leaned cautiously towards the bowl. At least it had stopped smoking.
"Let's find out," Laila replied enthusiastically. She picked up a red apple and
dropped it into the bowl, making Florian jump back for fear of being splashed,
or worse.
The apple bobbed serenely looking unaffected by the viscous liquid. Laila put
her hands on her hips and pouted at it.
"Is there an incantation or something?" Florian asked, trying to look helpful.
"There is! I almost forgot. Thank you, Florian." Laila snatched up the tattered
page and studied it. After a long moment she took the apple out of the bowl and
placed her left hand into the liquid instead. She mumbled something too softly
for Ray to hear.
"Um..." Florian said, reaching out to take the paper. "Maybe I could."
"Give it a minute," Laila insisted, scanning the paper again before mumbling the
same series of words. This time, the response was immediate but the smoke was
white.
"Oh," Laila said, lifting her wet hand up to inspect it. It didn't look any
different.
"Now what?" Florian asked. Rather than replying, Laila reached over and touched
the apple with her left hand. With a soft 'pfft' the apple transformed into a
faceted red gem.
Laila's cheer of triumph almost drowned out Florian's cry of dismay.
"What's the matter with you?" Laila demanded as she reached out to pick up an
orange. It "pfft'ed" and became an orange-colored gem. She waved it under
Florian's nose. "Do you know what this means? Ray will have all the gems he
needs. He won't have to go out as Noir anymore."
"Do you think this will stop him?" Florian countered. "He doesn't play Noir just
for the jewelry. That's just a bonus. He likes the challenge of it and the
attention he gets. This won't stop him. But you..." He reached for her hand,
hesitated a moment then took it in his gently. "Have you ever read the story of
King Midas?"
"The king who turned everything to gold? That was just a story, Florian." Laila
almost rolled her eyes at her friend's apparent naiveté.
"Yes, and the only people who have wings are angels," Florian retorted, bringing
his own wings out easily. Apparently he'd been practicing.
"It's not like that. I'm touching you and you didn't turn into a giant diamond."
"No, but you did turn the fruit. Is this permanent? What else will turn to a gem
if you touch it?"
"Let's find out," Laila said cheerfully, reaching out to touch everything on the
table. Nothing changed until she placed her hand on a pear. It instantly turned
into a gem. She tried touching another apple with her other hand and it remained
a fruit.
"Maybe it only works on food?" she suggested, heading towards the pantry.
Florian trailed along behind her, objecting only when she reached for his
favorite snacks. Nothing transformed.
"The spell was called 'fruit gems'..." Florian didn't finish the sentence,
withering under the intensity of Laila's glare.
"Ray is a master thief. You suddenly grow wings. And I," she waved her left hand
grandly, "have the singular ability to transform fruit into gemstones. What will
I do with that - make expensive centerpieces?"
"That's exactly what you're going to do," Ray said as he stepped forward, making
his presence known at last. "A very large, very expensive centerpiece." He
smiled widely at her and then at Florian before adding, "And tonight, Noir will
personally deliver it to Solomon Sugar."
::end::