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Snipe Hunting Never Gets Old
Mornings begin early at most bakeries, and Want Some Pie? was no different. At a quarter past four, Gracey found herself up to her elbows in flour as she guided a tray of single-serving Chocolate For Breakfast pies into the oven.
Mitsuo sauntered through the back door, disheveled as usual, but with confidence in his step and his chin lifted so that you could actually see his eyes. Gracey tried not to smile as he pulled his apron on over his black hoodie. He was practically a different kid from when she’d found him camped out in her barn.
“What’s the special today, Gracey?” The teenager tossed a stray lock of hair from eyes that just missed making contact with Gracey’s.
Hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans, the pie baker leaned back slightly, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A litany of ingredients ran through her mind as though to an internal beat, a private form of meditation she’d practiced as long as he could remember. Rocking back on the heels of her boots, Gracey opened herself to the energy of the morning, let the subtle vibrations and gentle workings of the town fill her from her toes to the crown of her head. Breathing in, she could almost smell the sleeping residents of Love & War, could almost infiltrate their dreams, see what they were seeing, feel what they were feeling. They smelled of spice, of flours, of myriad different ingredients that shifted subtly each morning. Her meditation was an essential part of her magic, though she would never have described it that way. To her, it was simply part of her process, part of how she decided what pies to make that day. It was as much a routine as brushing her hair and teeth.
“Something unusual today, I think,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Apple, cranberry, rosemary. We’ll call it Fourth Thursday Pie. We’ll add a bit of cornmeal to crust.” Opening her eyes, she smiled at her assistant. “You okay to go down to the market? I’ll make you a list.”
“Sure,” Mitsuo said, pulling off the apron he’d just tied on. “And, Miss Gracey, if I haven’t said anything, I really appreciate you giving me this job.”
Gracey waved away the gratitude, ignoring the “Miss” she’d asked him a million times to drop. “I gave you chance; you earned being allowed to stay. It’s not like I could have you squatting in my barn forever,” she said, throwing him a teasing look. “How close are you two to being able to move out of the Badlands?”
Mitsuo shrugged, withdrawing into himself just a little. “I’m sorry you found us out there,” he said. “We weren’t trying to take advantage.” When Gracey didn’t say anything, he continued. “We don’t have enough for rent just yet; you need money for deposits and stuff. The Badlands is fine for now. I was raised in a trailer,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted. “But thanks,” he said.
Gracey was about to interject that there was a difference between living in a trailer and squatting in an abandoned one when the bell over the entrance jingled. Gracey always came in through the front door in the mornings and rarely locked it behind her even though the bakery didn’t open until six. She knew the townsfolk and they knew her; locking the door just seemed an unnecessary bother. So she was surprised to see the Prime of Darkness striding into the bakery, his pink salon smock tied awkwardly around his pauldrons. Gracey had to stifle a smile.
“Darkness! What on earth are you doing up so early?”
The Prime of Darkness sank into a seat near the door, his expression troubled. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, popping a handful of Smarties into his mouth.“You got any day old pie? Blackberry, maybe?”
“‘Course I do,” she said, “but that’s not what you want today.” Reaching into the refrigerated case, Gracey pulled out two plates of caramel pecan pie and set them before him with a napkin and a fork. She watched him take a healthy bite before asking, “Was I right?”
The Prime of Darkness set his fork on the edge of his plate and looked up from his plate in wonder, eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn’t hide his smile as he nodded slowly, still chewing. “It’s brilliant,” he breathed. “It makes me feel …” He cast about for a moment, making groping motions with his hands before settling on, “Happy.”
Gracey nodded. “I thought it might,” she said, without even a hint of self-doubt. “Anything on your mind you wanna talk about? I got some coffee brewing in the back; Mitsuo ain’t gonna drink any.”
The demon gave her a hard, evaluating look before shaking his head, heavy locks of black hair falling into his face. “No. Just couldn’t sleep.” He cast a sidelong glance at Mitsuo, who watched them discreetly from behind the counter. When he noticed the Prime of Darkness noticing him, he quickly looked away.
The Prime of Darkness motioned for Gracey to come closer, which she did without hesitation. He lowered his voice, looked her in the eye. “You knew about the pie, didn’t you? That it would make me feel good? How did you know that?”
Gracey shrugged. “I always know,” she said simply.
Moving away, she pulled a rag out of her hip pocket and began wiping down tables. “If you don’t have anything to do for the next few hours, you could go down to the turtle pond and look for Old Leviathan.”
The demon looked up from the pie, confused. “Old Leviathan?”
“Bigass turtle,” she said, without looking up. She was scrubbing furiously at a smudge only she could see. “Old Leviathan is the gigantic turtle that lives in the old pond at Bigsbee Park. Way I hear it, he only comes out at night. And though it’s technically morning, it’s still dark. He’s probably still out.”
The Prime of Darkness took another bite of pie, his expression dreamy as he finished off the first slice. “How big is it?”
Gracey shrugged. “Real big. I haven’t seen him in years. But if I remember correctly, he’s got to be, what, twenty, thirty pounds? We’re talking huge.” She held her hands far apart to demonstrate size, and gave Darkness a bright smile, her dark eyes alive with laughter.
The Prime of Darkness polished off his second slice and pushed himself away from the table. “Okay. I got nothing better to do.” Remembering his manners, the Prime of Darkness nodded in Mitsuo’s direction. “How’s it going?”
Mitsuo lifted his chin in return. “What’s up.”
“Do you need a flashlight?” Gracey asked, her voice respectably level.
The Prime of Darkness gave Gracey a quizzical look. “You know I can see perfectly well in the dark. Thank you for the pie, Gracey. It was really great. Are you cooking dinner tonight?”
Gracey shook her head. “Sorry, cowboy. It’s Tiny’s night.”
The Prime of Darkness made a face. “Tiny can’t cook,” he said. It was almost a whine.
“Well, I’m sure you can still take Irma Flores up on her offer to have you over for dinner,” she said. “Irma cooks the best Mexican food this side of Juárez.”
The demon seemed to think a moment, then nodded his head. “Maybe. See you,” he said. He gave Mitsuo a lame wave, which the teenager ignored, and ducked out the front door. Gracey waited until she heard the rumble of his motorcycle starting before breaking into laughter.
Mitsuo nodded towards the doorway. “That guy really likes to eat, huh?”
Gracey shook her head, her hand to her temple. “Oh, you have no idea.”
“That was cold,” Mitsuo said, not disapprovingly. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for someone to pull the Old Leviathan on anyone,” he said.
“Even I like a good joke,” Gracey said.
Mitsuo grinned. “You pull it on your sister?”
Gracey shook her head. “Naw, Tiny’s heard my snipe hunting story too many times to fall for that.”
Mitsuo raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You went snipe hunting?”
Laughing again, Gracey gave Mitsuo a kiss on the forehead, much to his mild horror, and slapped him on the back. “Go get my ingredients,” she said. “Sun’ll be up before we know it.”