Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,133
had retained its frozenness. Zoe was positive it would taste dry once thawed, but decided not to let it go to waste. Cole needed his strength back, and despite being fairly smart in some things, Zoe didn’t want to be hunting down more animals.
Once they’d taken as many supplies as was reasonable, they both got into the truck, which started after a few worrying cranking noises. Cole seemed to know what he was doing, expertly guiding the truck out onto the main road, steering with his uninjured hand. Eventually, Zoe grew used to the bumps. If those made things uncomfortable for Cole, who was in a worse condition than she was, he was doing a fairly good job of keeping his complaints to himself.
They found more of the firebird’s feathers as they rode, which at least indicated they were going the right way. They eventually settled by a small brook to camp for the night, and in no time at all had a fire going. Zoe had reluctantly admitted her inability to cook. Baking had always been more her thing, if you ignored the fact that her cookies sometimes turned out inexplicably salty.
Now she watched with astonishment as Cole upended the flask of beer over the now-thawed chicken, then began briskly adding tarragon and cloves to the meat. A small knife, heated carefully in a small pot of boiling water, made short work of the vegetables they’d pilfered, and a pan of mushrooms, carrots, onions, and peas, liberally sprinkled with more herbs, was soon sizzling merrily over the fire alongside the slowly roasting meat.
Some of her incredulity must have shown on her face. “Stop looking at me like that,” Cole said, clearly irritated, turning the spit holding the chicken over.
“I just…you don’t look like a cook,” Zoe blurted out, immediately feeling foolish.
“I don’t. I normally get by with drinking the blood of children, but I thought you wouldn’t approve.”
“You’re like Marlon Brando playing Julia Child in a movie.”
“Thanks.”
“I meant that as a compliment.” The vegetables were delicious, tangy. Zoe’s main contribution to the food had consisted of poking through the rest of the bottles in the witch’s pouch, trying to find something to add to the meal. The one marked Cake had been briefly tempting, but the contents of the flask had been decidedly liquid-y, and neither of them could afford an experiment. She had made Cole take a drop or two of the one marked Painkiller, and they had both doused themselves with the one marked Antitoxin, just in case anything poisonous from the swamps lingered in their systems. She felt remarkably fresh and energized, all things considered.
“How did you learn to cook like this?”
“Loki would have done just as well, if they had a kitchen to raid.” Cole settled by a large rock across from where Zoe sat, as far away from her as he could while still within range of the campfire. This was the longest discussion they’d shared without getting into a fight, and she suddenly realized that he was trying just as much as she was not to fall back into their old habits.
“No, really,” Zoe insisted, looking down at her meal. Now that she was clean and full and feeling just a little lethargic, her guilt returned to gnaw at her, like she shouldn’t be clean and full at all when everyone else might still be in danger. The succession of firebird feathers had given her some much-needed hope, but…
Fear has never been your enemy, Zoe Fairfax. It has always been doubt.
She hated that the Ikpean priestess was right.
She’d been so thrilled when she’d been singled out to head the mission. The Ogmios is more than just a weapon, the Cheshire had told her. Once, it was the mark of leadership, conferred only to those worthy of that title. Ogmios himself was noted for his eloquence as much as his fighting. All those who wield his whip make for worthy leaders.
All she had to do was see everyone safely back to London. Instead, they had wound up in Avalon, separated from the others with the prince in even more danger. And then here was a boy she had little reason to trust, who had wound up rescuing her. Some leadership this turned out to be.
Zoe liked constructing pro-con lists. Facts were good, and facts were particularly attractive when organized in charts, measured and analyzed. The current arguments for and against in her head ran thus: