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