Page 125 of Balance
“They call it the Snallygaster,” she answered, flipping an egg. “It’s half-dragon, half-duck.”
“That doesn’t sound very scary…” Miles began.
“Its appearance is deceiving, and no one can defeat it without breaking the spell—and that can only be done by a witch… or a fae.” She shot me another quick look and grabbed at her skirts, using the bunched fabric to grab the pan and bring the food to the table. “Are you going to be okay to eat this?”
It took a moment to realize she’d been directing her last question to me, and—face flushing at having been caught eavesdropping—I sat up, holding the soft blanket against my chest.
She was watching me expectantly, but otherwise, her feelings were hard to read on her expression. “Last night I used my copper kettle, but this is cooked in iron,” she said, nodding to the food. “Is that all right, or do you need something else?”
“Um…” I glanced between them, bringing the blanket further until it touched my nose. “It should be okay… Why?”
“Interesting.” She pursed her lips, but added another plate to the table.
“I didn’t know that!” Miles perked, eyes wide. “You’re fine with iron?”
“Mostly…” Was this something else from a past life, or… “I have a contact allergy, but it’s really not all that severe.”
“Really?” Miles was frowning at me now, forehead furrowed in contemplation. “Do you still hate sardines?”
Sardineswere otherwise known as the vilest, most overrated, food known to mankind. Why would anyone think it was an excellent idea to heavily salt tiny fishes and shove them in a can?
To make matters worse, my adoptive mother would makesardine sandwicheslunches; if it weren’t for Finn, I would have starved. Come to think of it, she eventually stopped… but only after Dr. Kohler—known as Dr. Reed in those days—mentioned something about them being too salty.
Well, she wasn’t wrong.
“So that’s a ‘yes’,” Miles said, mouth lifting in the corner. The movement highlighted the gash on his cheek and was a stark reminder of Kathleen’s earlier words—he would scar.
This was all my fault.
“I don’t remember as much as the others, but they say that Mu hated sardines,” Miles continued, unaware of my inner turmoil. “He once started a petition to ban them from human consumption.”
Good. This was one thing that my past-self and I agreed on one hundred percent.
“Fae don’t usually like salt.” Kathleen limped to me, handing me a plate; her face was the picture of curiosity. “What about bacon?”
I started, staring at her in shock. Mu didn’t like bacon? Well, that was too bad. I would rather die before they took my bacon away.
“We don’talwaysshareexactlythe characteristics between lives.” Miles shrugged, sipping at his drink—a drink that I hoped to God was coffee, because I had a caffeine headache that was going to become a problem soon. “Our current lifestyles and genetics play a role in refining our likes and dislikes. Take Julian for example. He’s a vegetarian.”
“He wasn’t always?” I asked, curious enough to finally accept Kathleen’s place with thanks, and nibbled at the fried bacon.
Miles shrugged. “Shui has never really cared before.”
“We have other past lives, right?” I ventured as Kathleen slowly moved back to the hearth. “Why do you only use the names of our first lives?”
Miles lowered the mug, eyebrows raising. “Do youwantme to start referencing you by all your past lives?”
I frowned at the thought. No, and to be honest I’d rather forget about Mu too.
“Maybe it’s time to move on?” I grumbled, not expecting him to hear. This obsession with past lives was getting rather creepy. I used to think I was a traditionalist, but maybe it was time for something new.
“Bianca?” He’d picked up on it anyway, and I mentally cursed my big mouth.
“Never mind.” I shook my head, taking a bite of my eggs as Kathleen slid a mug of coffee in front of me. “It’s not important.”
Kathleen cornered me after breakfast.
I was outside, washing the dishes in a setup she’d created some dozen feet away from her house, when she limped heavily toward me, Miles’s pants in hand.
