She eyed the sea of red behind her in the mirror over the vegetable bins labeled “local produce.” Fitting in was not what they were doing. Employees and other customers were scattering before her like flocks of frightened pigeons.
She raided the bins for produce that would keep. Apples. Potatoes. Winter squash. The next aisle that used to be canned goods was picked clean. Not even dented cans of spinach remained.
“Welcome to the new age, to the new age,” the PA system sang.
It felt like the apocalypse had hit Pittsburgh. It reminded her that she needed the elves to survive the winter.
At least the next aisle, which was paper goods, was still well stocked. Pittsburghers hadn’t considered what life without toilet paper was going to be like. She picked up a mega-pack and handed it to the nearest marine. The male elf eyed the package decorated with the cartoon bears as if he’d never seen toilet paper before. She ignored him, handing a second and third mega-pack out to the bewildered elves. The marines huddled around the newly burdened soldiers, examining the packages and making guesses as to what they contained.
“Bear cloth?” one guessed, pointing at the bears.
One could read French. “Ne bouche pas sur pour les systemes septiques. Septiques. Septiques. I don’t know this word. Ah! Paper hygiénique. Paper for health.”
This only mystified them more.
She wanted cloth diapers but there were only disposable ones in the next aisle. Savvy parents had bought out the larger sizes, leaving behind only three packages for newborn. Those would last her a week. She was going to have to find more before her baby was born.
The next few aisles were as empty as the canned goods. Only the overhead signs hinted at what had been shelved there. Pasta. Soup. Cereal. Soda. Spices were largely untouched. Her budget didn’t allow her to buy to her heart’s content, not when anything beyond salt and pepper came at a dear price. Beyond iodized salt, nothing was required for survival.
Before she could stop him, Forest Moss had picked up a bottle of Chinese Five Spice and broken the seal.
“Anise.” He intermixed English words with Elvish. “Cassia, which is the bark of Cinnamomum trees. Cloves.” He sniffed again. “Gingibre. Badian, which is sometimes called star anise. I used to trade herbs for bronze and then steel.”
She swallowed down a whimper. The bottle cost over ten dollars for just one ounce. She had never tasted the spice mix, let alone used it. She couldn’t put the open bottle back on the shelf; the spice would start to degrade once the seal was broken. It would be unfair to anyone else to pay so much money for an open bottle.
“This would be very good on fowl,” he continued. “You need more meat for your baby to be healthy. When we find our own place, I will see that we are given live chickens instead of prepared meals. That way we can quickly have a whole flock. I will cook for you. I’ve gotten very good at it.”
If he cooked as well as he made love, then it would be a feast beyond her imagination. She blushed furiously and added the spice to her cart.
The cashier rang up her purchase with shaking hands. It was more than Olivia had ever spent on anything. She reluctantly handed over all her American cash. She had the elf gold bullion but each coin was worth thousands of dollars. She was going to have to exchange one to buy winter clothes.
The next morning, their fragile peace fell apart. Orders came from Prince True Flame for Forest Moss to report for combat. Glaive insisted that Olivia be left at the cathedral.
“I want my domi to come with us!” Forest Moss cried. “I was not at the enclave to protect our people when the oni attacked. I will not leave her behind.”
“Ginger Wine’s was taken by treachery, not by simple force.” Glaive used the same tone one would use with a willful child. “You would have died if you had been there.”
“She is with child. I cannot dashavat her until the baby is born.” Forest Moss used the same word that the marines had used. By the look of distaste on the Wyvern’s face, it wasn’t a good thing. “She cannot defend herself like Wolf Who Rules’ child bride.”
Olivia ducked her head so her face wouldn’t show. She was actually two years younger than “Princess Tinker” but she hadn’t told Forest Moss that. She had allowed him to believe that humans considered her an adult. Since she had been forced into a marriage at fifteen, she thought of herself as “adult” even if most of the humans in Pittsburgh would disagree. Made to grow up, she wasn’t going to let herself be stuffed back into the bottle of “child.” It was her experience that the only difference was children had to do what they were told.
“The kitsune made the oni invisible to everyone at Ginger Wine’s,” Glaive continued. “The oni killed nine of our Stone Clan brethren and took Jewel Tear before anyone could react. Your presence would not have made any difference to the outcome.”
“The child bride…”
“Would have also been taken. We have no defense against mind tricks. The Wind Clan domi survived only because the oni limited their ambush to Ginger Wine’s.”
Tears started to run from Forest Moss’ one good eye. “I cannot abandon my domi. She is defenseless!”
“The oni have no reason to attack her,” Glaive said. “She is only domana-caste via her dau mark. Taking her would not give the oni access to the Stone Clan’s Spell Stones. She has nothing of worth.”
She had a small fortune in elf gold bullion in her purse but she didn’t want to point that out.
“If you drag her along,” Glaive finished, “she will be in direct line of fire for all the oni forces.”
Forest Moss started to rock in distress.
Glaive put his hand on his sword, his eyes narrowing in calculation.
“Please.” Olivia stepped forward and cautiously stretched out a hand to the rifle on Glaive’s back. “Can I have this?”
Glaive’s eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t stop her as she took it from his back. It was a true military-issue full automatic, a little heavier than the semi-auto that her stepfather owned. It seemed as if the construction wasn’t of regular gunmetal, but it functioned exactly the same.
She checked to make sure it had a full magazine. “I’m not defenseless.”
Forest Moss paused, startled out of his panic.
“I don’t want to be part of the fighting.” Olivia still wasn’t sure if she understood what the war was about, and what the oni planned for the humans in general. If she was going to kill someone, she wanted to be sure it was the right people. God had been fairly clear on “thou shalt not kill” but then he muddled the waters with lots of smiting of enemies. Olivia was fairly sure that anyone trying to kill her intentionally became “the right people,” but if she was merely unintentional collateral damage, the morality of defending herself was uncomfortably gray.
“You can use that weapon?” Forest Moss asked.
“My mother,” she fumbled with the Elvish. She didn’t know the word for divorce, remarry, or stepfather. She wasn’t sure elves had such things. “When I was a child, she joined a group of people that don’t see eye to eye with almost everyone on just about everything. They own a great deal of guns.” Probably more than was legal considering the effort they went to keep their gun purchases secret. “They taught me how to use this weapon.”
Target practice was the one nondomestic activity that she was allowed to do, so she learned to do it well. She also learned a great deal about brawling but that was never “taught.” It was a natural result of making her stepbrothers look bad on the firing range.