"I believe in magic," Kayla said, a little uncertainly.
"Do you now? Seems to me that all you've done is try to pretend that it isn't real, ever since the magic first touched you."
"How do you know that?" Kayla asked, bewildered.
"I wasn't born yesterday, dearie. I can read it in you, read you like a book. I understand power, and humans, and what you have simmering inside you. Some of us appreciate magic, believe me. It was quite a surprise, though, to have someone as talented as yourself come wandering across my doorstep. Hmmm, I think this stock will need more salt, don't you?"
Kayla got up from the couch and walked over to her as Beara lifted the wooden spoon, dripping with broth, from the cauldron.
This smells awful! Kayla thought, as soon as she was within a couple feet. I'm not going to try any of that, no way! "Er, uh . . . I'm really not a good judge of cooking," she said quickly. "But it smells like it needs some salt, yeah."
"Why don't you stir it, while I get everything else ready?" the old woman asked, and immediately plunked the huge wooden spoon into Kayla's hand without waiting for an answer.
Oh no, this means I have to stand next to this stuff and stir it! "Ah, listen, it's nice to meet you and all that, but I really need to be getting out of here. It's getting dark outside, and I really want to get out of this neighborhood, y'know, and . . ."
"You can't leave before dinner, I won't hear of it," Beara said. She hobbled away to another table, picking up a large gleaming knife from a huge knife rack on the wall. She hummed an odd melody as she ran a honing stone over the long blade.
"Okay, sure," Kayla said, looking apprehensively at the knife. I don't think I want to tick this lady off. She has some kind of weird, dangerous magic, and she keeps really long knives around—lots of them.
Absently, Kayla stirred the soup and wrinkled her nose as another blast of foul odors wafted up at her. What's in this stuff? It smells worse than anything . . .
She looked down at the thick, grayish soup and stared.
There was a human finger floating in the soup.
"YAAAAAAHH!"
Kayla leaped backwards, the spoon flying, soup spattering everywhere.
"Is something wrong, dearie?" the old woman asked, turning to look at her with the knife raised in her hand.
Oh . . . oh, this is bad, this is really bad . . . Kayla, you've really done it to yourself this time.
"Uh, no, not at all," Kayla said nervously, glancing from Beara's face to the sharp knife in her hand. Probably the same knife that sliced the finger off of . . . whoever it is that's in the soup. Don't panic, don't panic, just get out of here. . . . "There's just something . . . about the soup . . . it's . . . it's not . . . not what I was expecting."
"Ah, of course," the old woman said, nodding. She set down the knife and picked up another wooden spoon, hobbling back to the cauldron to stir it. "That's the problem nowadays: it's hard to find good meat. How can you make good stock from something like this?" She fished the floating finger out of the soup and tossed it into a trash can several feet away. Kayla flinched as she saw the large pile of white bones in the bin.
"I thought that young man looked so tasty," the old woman continued. "After all, he was very muscular. He broke into my house without even working up a sweat. You just can't tell with these things, though. It's terribly difficult to cook a decent meal when you have to work with raw ingredients like that."
"Yeah, I can guess," Kayla said weakly, glad she didn't have anything left in her stomach that could come up. She glanced at the knife lying on the table. She could grab it, maybe threaten this lady long enough to get out of here. Then she remembered that flash of dark magic, the sound of two bodies hitting the floor in the alley.
Come on, Kayla, think fast . . . think of something, anything . . .
There was a sudden knock at the front door; the old woman looked up at the sound, startled.
"Would you like me to answer that?" Kayla asked hopefully, already imagining how quickly she could be out that door and running down the street.
"Oh, that's all right, dearie. I'll get it myself," the old woman said. "I'm just a little surprised. I wasn't expecting any other guests." She walked slowly to the door; Kayla took the opportunity to pick up the long-bladed knife from the table. She held it with one hand behind her back, hoping the old woman wouldn't see it.
"My, this is a surprise!" Beara said from the hallway. "Two guests for dinner! Come with me, come with me." She returned a moment later, followed by . . . Elizabet?
Kayla blinked. It was Elizabet Winters, looking very calm, but with a simmering anger half-hidden in her eyes. "Elizabet," Kayla gasped, so overwhelmed with relief she thought she was about to fall over. "You . . . you can't guess how good it is to see you right now!"