Are you taking part in #FlashFictionFebruary2019?
It’s never too late to start. Even one story for the month is one more than you had previously!
Today’s Story Title: Recipe
Today’s Story Is #7 of 28
Today’s Genre: Urban Fantasy
Today’s Word Count: 557
What’s your current story? How many have you achieved? Tell me all about it!
“So, where do we start?” Ardat asked as Esther closed the front door behind them.
“First, you take your shoes off or I’m going to kick your-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ardat’s eyes flashed silver as they grinned. “Big scary witch, threatening a helpless demon,” Ardat chuckled as they bent to pull of their shoes.
“You’re not helpless,” Esther put a hand on the wall to toe off her own shoes. The mail in Esther’s hand made a satisfying thwack against the top of Ardat’s head when Esther walked past them. “You’re a big scary demon that can throw bad guys through a wall.”
“I still maintain that wall was not structurally sound and I didn’t do a damned thing,” Ardat said.
“Sure, sure. And your eyes don’t glow when you’re emotional,” Esther said as she walked across the living room, pausing to pull off her socks and toss them into the laundry room.
“I thought you said you thought that was cool?” Ardat asked, shrugging out of their jacket and hanging it carefully over the back of the armchair.
“It is. So’s the throwing people through walls,” Esther flicked on the bathroom light. “Oh my god, my hair is bananas.”
“What the hell is this?” Ardat demanded, squinting at the photo.
“These days, it’s called a cell phone,” Esther said as she bundled her hair into a quick ponytail as she walked towards the kitchen.
Ardat gave a sarcastic chuckle and stuck out their tongue at Esther.
They rotated the photo, as if it would make more sense being able to read more of it. “What kind of heathen aged, Macbeth bullshit is this?”
Esther chuckled, pulling a mortar and pestle from below the kitchen sink.
“It’s the spell that Malory snapped for us. The one that my idiot brother tried using, apparently,” Esther chuckled.
“Okay. What in the name of my unholy Mother is snapping hazelnut? And fairy eggs? Like, where the hell can you find half this shit?” Ardat flopped down at the single remaining dining chair.
“Calm down,” Esther said, running a damp towel over the mortar’s surface.
“You calm down,” Ardat grumbled, glaring at the phone again. “Seriously, Esther. We’re doomed. This is some Shakespearean level bullshit.” They jabbed at the phone screen when Esther just chuckled. “I’m glad you’re amused, little witch. What priest has a crown? Where do we find two of them? And who the hell is Sanders and why do we need his blood? I thought you were into that ‘harm none but take no shit’ thing? How the shit are we supposed to bleed someone, find a fairy that lays eggs and gets fucking egg dust without-I mean, we just barely unfucked the whole thing with Bob in the Market!”
Esther crossed the two steps from sink to table and pulled the phone from Ardat’s hand.
“You you need to relax,” Esther told them. “Breathe.”
“I’m a demon, we don’t need to breathe,” Ardat grumbled.
“It’s a bunch of herbs, Ardat,” Esther explained. “Like a priest’s crown? It’s a dandelion blossom. Simple enough.”
“And what are fairy eggs?” Ardat crossed their arms over their chest.
“Nutmeg, just powdered nutmeg,” Esther laughed at them.
“And why do you know all this off the top of your head?” Ardat demanded.
“Who do you think wrote the spell in the first place?”