Strains

Chapter 21

Sunday brunch is amazing, the food is a delicious array of breakfast offerings found all over the living world. I don't deny myself a few sample tastes from Hercules' plate today. I just can't help it. And I'm glad I fell for the temptation, it makes doing the dishes afterward an easier pill to swallow.

I wasn't expecting to do two sets of dishes in one day, but it is what it is. Sucks because I'm going to be late to meet up with Caiden, but I have a plan to make it up to him.

I smile into the elbow-deep bubbles.

Yeah, I'll definitely make it up to him.

***

My hands are full when I knock on the back door to the library. After a few minutes, the door opens. Caiden stands in the doorway, smaller than I've ever seen him before.

"Where are your cloaks?" I ask.

"I don't feel like I need to wear them today," he says and beckons me inside. I walk past him and into the main hall of bookstacks. It's still pitch black inside, but the fire is already going in the fireplace.

Caiden settles in his chair. He looks small in it like it could swallow him whole. He lights some candles scattered throughout the room with a snap of his finger. The area brightens and I take in the details of the clothes he had covered for so long.

Just a plain pair of denim jeans and a light blue tee shirt. I wonder if they're the same clothes he died in or something he brought back from the human world. He really does look like a typical teenager.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Actually, I was going to ask if you were hungry."

Caiden jumps up. "Oh! I can run down to the portal, sorry I should've gone earlier."

I have to catch him by the shoulder before he runs out. He stiffens at my touch and I back away. I hold out the bag in my hands.

"I thought I would make you some real food," I say quietly.

The flames in the room jump. Caiden pulls at his collar, something he's always done that I thought was because of the heat trapped in his robes. Turns out it was nerves.

"Do you have a stove?"

He shakes his head slowly and begins to deflate. I look to the fire in the hearth that dimmed slightly.

"How good are you exactly at controlling fire?"

He smirks at me, and light dances on his cheek.

"Probably as good as you need me to be."

I've never cooked over a campfire before, I've seen it done but never made an attempt myself. Caiden helps me carry a stone slab from a bench from the courtyard and we position it at the edge of the fire.

As for tools, I'm limited to a paring knife, ladle, and stock pot. I also have some assorted vegetables and some stock powder. Not much, but enough for a vegetable soup.

Kitchen sink meals like this were a staple in my family. Both of my parents detested grocery shopping, so they would put it off until the refrigerator was bare of everything except a box of baking soda. When I got old enough, I contributed to the meals too, treating our barebones pantry like a Chopped mystery basket.

Caiden lengthens the flames as I sauté some of the vegetables to release their flavors. The scent of sweet vegetables wafts through the library. I wonder if it'll permeate the pages of the books above, but I guess it doesn't matter. The books here will never be checked out again, not unless it's my name on the checkout card. I add the stock powder and a few bottles of water. Caiden lowers the flames until only the smallest flicker remains.