Kitchen Talk

     The scent of baked trout, redolent with oregano and a hint of lime, wafted through the spacious kitchen as the glass pan was carefully set onto the wire rack. Kearna Tierney smiled contentedly as she parted the parchment paper and sniffed at the fish, her emerald eyes gleaming hungrily.

     "I can’t leave you alone for half a day without you getting another man in here, can I?" Sierra Masters’s acerbic tone did nothing to diminish the smug look in the cat’s face as she began opening the steaming cheese scones, arranging them neatly on a serving platter. When the redhead didn’t look up, Sierra walked to the kitchen island and settled herself on a stool, her reddish-brown eyes narrowed. "Who is he?"

     "A gentleman caller that Fish found in the forest," Kearna replied, eyeing the garlic butter before mixing a bit more paprika into it.

     "…uh-huh. Fish found some guy and you’re making him lunch?" The cowgirl’s eyebrow went up another notch as she watched Kearna fuss with the scones.

     "His name is Ulryk and you will be civil," she said without so much as a glance, smoothing the parchment paper down and reaching for a spatula.

     Sierra watched the delicate process of transferring the baked fish from pan to platter silently. When Kearna had finished laying sprigs of parsley around the entree, she reached over and tapped the redhead’s wrist. "And what else?"

     "He said that he’s here to be a sort of guardian to Iris," Kearna said with a shrug. Her emerald eyes were a trifle puzzled, but not unduly concerned when she looked at Sierra. "It’s a little weird, him randomly appearing in the forest, but this is Freak Central. I take nothing for granted, nor do I measure anything by the ideas of normalcy."

     She looked up with a furrowed brow, for the silence emanating from Sierra was not simple astonishment. Kearna blinked, because the cowgirl’s face was ashen grey and her face suddenly gaunt. "Good heavens, Sierra, what’s wrong?!?"

     The blonde swallowed, and dropped her gaze. The eyes which were normally the clear reddish-brown of desert stone had clouded, and her throat worked for a moment before she opened her mouth. "Iris is gone," she rasped, rubbing at her mouth as if something slimy was on her lips. "We can’t find her anywhere."

     Kearna’s hand sagged, and the spatula clinked against the cooling rack. That single noise eshoed loudly in a kitchen which had developed a grave-like silence. Her emerald eyes widened, and she stared at Sierra with complete and utter shock.

     "…gone?" She whispered, chewing her lower lip. "Completely? Even… What about.."

     "Jonas can’t find her. He can’t even tell if she’s alive or dead." Sierra’s mouth worked for a moment, and she took a deep breath. "I’ve been riding the forest all morning, trying to see if Dragon would spook or something."

     "Nothing?" Kearna’s worry deepened. Jack Ferrers’ grey mare Dragon was notorious for scenting spilt blood, even if it had been several days drying.

     "Nothing. I couldn’t find anything. No one can. We’ve been searching since before midnight. Briar called Andrew and told him she saw Iris’s car in the Waterfront, locked up tight. No purse, no backpack, no keys, no Iris. Her cell phones are all off, and Kyle can’t even trace a signal back to them."

     Kearna leaned against the counter, her knees feeling rather watery. Both women looked at each other for a silent moment which seemed to stretch into eternity. Without a spoken word, they both turned and looked at the doorway. Standing there was the man in question, this mysterious Ulryk, his mismatched eyes dark with a timeless concern, a weary comprehension showing clearly. Neither woman bothered to speak, to explain: it was clear he’d overheard everything. Kearna looked at Ulryk for a heartbeat, then compressed her lips together and reached for the phone.