Page 12 of The Salt-Black Tree
It wasn’t the worst that could happen, Dima knew. After all, it meant rich pickings, if he bothered to take them.
A tiny silver bell tinkled sweetly; Nell grabbed a snowy towel to wrap around her left hand. The first plate, heavy white ceramic dotted with blue forget-me-nots, slid out of the kitchen’s inferno. Dima wondered, as he had the half-dozen other times he’d stopped for a bite, just what was behind that screen of light dispensing such tasty fare.
Maybe the Bonney also wondered about some ofhislittle secrets. Curiosity wasn’t solely for rubes; there was a light-fingered divinity with bulbous eyes whose job was to peep in every corner, unable to look away or leave anything as it was found.
Compulsion could grip the Eternal, too.
The plate thumped down before him with a nice heavy sound. The burger was two thick patties with pink blood in the middle, seared to perfection outside, on a toasted, garlic-buttered brioche bun. Lettuce, tomatoes, red onion, bacon, waxy overprocessed American “cheese”—oh, there were good things about giving your heart to Baba so this new land didn’t take your birthright. The trouble with Maschka was wanting the cakeandeating it; even a thief knew some few things had to be paid for in full.
And the fries! Thick-cut, golden, crisp on the outside and fluffy-white within, with a dish of mayonnaise and another of ketchup, both for dipping. A huge dill pickle spear, as crunchy as any hard-fried thing, and a sprig of parsley for cleaning the breath—though who would want to, Dima didn’t know. In the old country ground meat was mixed with bread and fried, but here the luxury of pure meat was available. It was evencheap.
“Ah,” he breathed, and didn’t miss the slight change in Nell’s eye-gleams. She was willing to be complimented for all her hard work, and sometimes even preened like a satisfied young bird at the praise. “Worth driving across country for,miledi.”
“Should put something dreadful in it.” Nell’s tone was only moderately sharp, as she was only moderately mollified. “The girl’s frightened, Konets. If you’ve done something you shouldn’t—”
“I have been perfect gentleman.” And this was what he got for it. His ears prickled, straining for hisdevotchka’s step in the hallway. She was probably crying in a toilet stall. Girls needed that sort of thing, and it would turn the snow outside to freezing rain. The poor rubes wouldn’t know what hit them; they’d call it a weather event. “I am helping, even. Mascha raised her mortal, Bonney.”
He didn’t quite know why he said it. Perhaps because Nell was still watching him, the towel hanging from her left hand like a white rope, and he didn’t quite like the way it twitched.
“Raised her…” Nell sucked in a deep breath, her ire at Dima forgotten now that there was another, much larger transgression to focus on. “Oh, no. That’s not proper at all.”
“Even hid her arcana in deep places.” Dima finally lifted his hands, his fingers tingling as they wriggled with delight. A good burger had to be handled in proper fashion to keep its architecture stable. “Kept the girl from making her own. And guess what she pay Baba to look other way, huh?”
“I should have known you’re no altruist.” Nell’s bonnet-brim didn’t quite shrink, but the darkness underneath wasn’t so deep. The tip of her nose emerged a little farther, and a slice of her tanned chin. “I’m not convinced you’re going to remain gentlemanly either. Maybe I should have one or two of the Regulators keep an eye on her. Just to be safe.”
Oh, those bastards with their tin stars didn’t worry him at all. “You sure you want to lose them?” He scooped up the well-stacked tower of meat, vegetable, and bread, his jaw tingling withanticipation. If there were rubes present he might not have been able to get a proper bite, but bad weather and lateness of the hour meant this place was deserted.
Just one of the benefits of traveling in this particular way. His teeth sheared toasted brioche and lettuce, crunched through piquant onion, met melting tomato with sunlight still caught in its red flesh, pierced slightly waxen almost-cheese, then found meat. He let out a happy sound, and a shiver of pleasure slid down his spine.
Another silvery bell rang, its tone much deeper. Nell shook her head, swinging the towel as she ambled for the end of the counter, and Dima chewed slowly, his eyes half-closing. When hisdevotchkareappeared, he’d be able to see what the Bonney’s cook thought she’d like, and the prospect was almost as pleasant as the tingle in his hands from brand-new arcana stowed temptingly close.
He was halfway through his meal before he realized what the second chiming noise meant, and that he had been a fool.
IN ON THE JOKE
The small pink-tiled ladies’ room was a relief, even though it had a huge mirror over the sink Nat did her best not to look at. It was very clean, the lighting was soft instead of surgical, and though she didn’t need the facilities Nat could still swing the heavy pink-painted wooden door of the single stall closed and lean against its comforting solidity, breathing in huge shuddering waves while hot salt water trickled down her cheeks.
Warm air soughed through a ceiling vent, no trace of dust or cobweb sticking to its shiny metal grille. The commode was an expensive hands-free model, probably waiting impatiently to do its job.
Why did divinities even have toilets? Was it just stage-dressing?
She had to brace her backpack against the stall wall to dig inside. The prepaid cell had migrated into the folds of her spare black T-shirt; it squirted through her fingers and she bit back an exasperated, shuddering sigh. Of course nothing could be simple, ever.
Flipping the phone open and turning it on was easy; waiting for it to power up while her breathing refused to slow down and her eyes watered so hard the entire stall blur-warped wasn’t. She had to get the small digital screen almost to her nose before she saw she did, indeed, have three bars.
It was one piece of good luck. The prepaid plan was nationwide, too. That was another.
Nat dialed. There was nothing to say, it was a waste of minutes and therefore cash, but she wanted—no, sheneededto hear his voice. Someone who wouldn’t sneer, wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t slide a verbal knife in.
You and your silly ideas, Natchenka… Well, let’s hope you turn out pretty, because you’re not bright… Stop lying, Natchenka, cats don’t speak here… I will march you to that house at midnight…
All the terrible things Maria Drozdova had ever said circled her daughter like black birds. Nat could almost hear the feather-rustling, almost sense the sharp beaks; she held her breath and finished the string of numbers, whisper-recited them from the display just to be sure, and pressed the send button.
Her hand trembled; she clamped the phone to her ear.Just ask how he’s doing. Say you miss him. Maybe he’s even worrying.
A soft three-bar tone. “I’m sorry,” the phone chirped. “You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again.”
What the fuck?Nat checked the display. The number was correct, and it was the landline, unchanging and memorized since she was eight. She hung up, dialed once more, reciting each number again in a soft whisper just to be sure.
