Kid asked if he could pick up a shift tonight anyway. We’ll be fine.
Val exhaled.
I owe him one.
She put her phone down and gazed at the streets. The town bustled, so Genevieve was crawling through heavy traffic. Honks, whinnies, mad barks, and spectral shrieking filled the air. A headless man on a black stallion cut in front of Genevieve, and she honked. When the headless guy flipped her off, Val snorted and rolled her eyes in solidarity with Genevieve’s outrage.
An old lady shuffled along the sidewalk, leaning heavily on her stick as she walked a three-legged dog with sulfur fumes rising from its jaws. The dog barked at a young centaur, who cantered down the sidewalk on spindly legs, tossing newspapers into postboxes with an archer’s accuracy. A gaggle of children with pointed ears and long hair followed, their uniforms proclaiming they were from THE ESMERELDA PENDRAGON SCHOOL FOR SPECIAL ELVES. The harassed-looking weredog in charge of them ran distracted circles around the group, keeping them together.
“Nothing like this town, huh, Gennie?” Val mused. “So many different species working together.”
Genevieve flipped her dials in excitement.
“Where are you taking me, anyway?” Val straightened, stifling another yawn, and raised her seat as Genevieve turned into Avalon Plaza.
The large square with its many-colored cobblestones was almost invisible, thanks to the thick traffic. Pedestrians, carriages, riders, and cars hustled this way and that, disappearing into one of the six streets branching off the plaza or vanishing through the portal to New York City. Genevieve halted to allow an army of young wereelephants to stroll over the crossing. The trunk of each was wrapped around the tail of the one in front of them. They were wearing school uniforms as well.
“School traffic,” Val grumbled. “Hate it.”
Genevieve reproachfully flipped her windshield wipers.
“I know, I know. I’m hangry, that’s all,” Val admitted.
She raised her head and spotted a cafe on the corner. Pastries, breads, and cakes rested on the counter, behind which a young vampire stood wearing high heels and a frilly pink apron.
“That’ll work,” Val decided aloud.
Genevieve eased into a parking space in front of the cafe, her hood almost bumping a team of sled dogs tied to a hitching post. One of the dogs yawned, revealing six rows of fangs and three forked tongues.
Val gave the dogs a wide berth as she strolled into the cafe. She ordered a Fernwood mocha and a poppyseed muffin, then chose a table by the window, where she sipped the excellent coffee. Its smoky aftertaste held a hint of sweetness like rum.
She finished her muffin and picked up the phone, then placed a call.
“Good morning, my little spark!” her father sang in her ear.
Val smiled. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“You should ask, ‘What’s down?’” Frode guffawed. “We’re dwarves, you know. We go down into mines and things.”
Val groaned and passed a hand over her eyes. “Dad.”
Frode’s laughter boomed in her ear, and she couldn’t help smiling.
“What’s my favorite daughter doing today?” Frode asked.
Val snorted. “I’m your only daughter. You’re on a dad-joke roll today.”
“It’s my job,” Frode informed her happily. In the background, cutlery clattered. Somebody was washing dishes in the old stone sink at home.
Val laughed. “If you say so. How are things at the smithy?”
“Good! Business is booming, as usual, but nothing I can’t manage. I’m never buying another anvil from Freyja Thorsen again.” Frode scoffed. “It hardly lasted a week.”
“I told you her stuff is cheap crap, Dad,” Val scolded.
“I know, I know. I left mine at that pegasus farm up in the Spine and needed another urgently. I forged a new one, and it’s holding up better. Do you need another yet, darling?” Frode asked. “Can I make you one?”
“Sweet of you, Dad, thanks. Mine’s still good. I mostly forge small things, remember?” Val smiled.
“Still going well with your trinkets, is it?” Frode asked.
Val glanced at a billboard across the square that showed a shirtless male faun cradling a swooning female. An iron medallion glittered on the female’s neck. The maker’s mark was invisible from here, but Val knew the initials VS were stamped into the back because she had placed them there.
“Pretty well,” she answered.
Frode chuckled. “I’m so proud of you, darling.” The clattering in the background continued.
“Thanks, Dad. Listen, I called because I’m unexpectedly spending the day in Avalon Town.” Val sipped coffee. “You’re probably busy, but I thought you’d be pissed if I didn’t let you know. Can you make dinner? A late tram will get you home tonight if you want.”
“Dinner? In Avalon Town?” Frode’s tone bubbled with excitement. “With my beautiful daughter?”
“Dad,” Val protested.
“How could I refuse?” Frode laughed. “I’ll be there, darling! I’ll take the next tram.”
“Are you sure? It’s cool if you’re busy,” Val assured him.
Frode snorted. “Never too busy for you, little spark.”
