Mike’s place wasn’t much of a muchness, but it was on Capitol Hill and it did at least have three bedrooms, if rather small ones. And it was more of a home. I might not be willing to call him dad – in part because I was worried my real father would smite him if I did.
I was quite willing to make myself at home. And fix the few things CPS had apparently not noticed when approving him. That Saturday, me and Kanesha went grocery shopping. Mike apparently lived on TV dinners. Which Kanesha in particular was determined to stop.
He didn’t argue with us getting more food, at least. He didn’t seem inclined to argue with us at all, in fact. He worked that day, and by the time he came back the fridge was full of healthier food.
“I won’t have…”
“…time to cook this all. Isn’t that what most people use teenagers for?” I quipped, grinning at Kanesha.
Kanesha tilted her head. “Should try the brownies on him.”
“They attract my real dad,” I warned.
“…Loki likes brownies?” Mike kind of peered at me.
“He likes these brownies. But he’ll probably show up anyway.” He probably would. He’d stayed away, but I was never quite sure what he was up to. He had other concerns than a daughter who he trusted to look after herself.
“I’m not sure whether to hope for that or not.”
We made dinner, and then sat around the table. “So,” I said. “There’s a fairy teaching history.”
“Why would…oh, that kind of fairy.”
“He implied he was both kinds of fairy.”
Kanesha giggled. “Seriously?”
I grinned at her. “Seriously. In any case, somebody flooded the canteen with a kind of hellfire. One girl was…hurt.” I wondered how they’d explain it. I rather expected a notice about flesh-eating bacteria and how we all had to watch for symptoms. “I don’t know whether they were after me or him.”
“Could have been the demon we sent packing.”
I nodded. “Or an ally of his…demons don’t have friends.” I frowned. “But it could be the other guy. I made a truce with him, but I don’t trust him. It feels like a deal with a demon.”
Mike considered that. “What kind of fairy is he?”
“Thruor thinks he’s Sidhe.” I frowned.
“Then if the stories are true he’ll keep his bargains, but try to twist them to his advantage. Like, for example, “helping” you fight the demon but letting you do most of the work.”
I shrugged. “He doesn’t strike me as a fighter anyway. I mostly don’t want us working at cross purposes. I do need to find out who did it before they do worse. It wasn’t Surtur, at least.”
“At least. Maybe I would like to talk to your dad after all.”