Ordinary World: The 7C Stories, #7

By Alice Degan

Cristina's time has almost come. When Rose has her baby and her vampire assistant gets to run the bakery, things are going to change. It's just too bad that Takehiko won't cooperate with her perfectly reasonable plan for a supply of fresh blood, and her best romantic prospect in decades was a figment of her imagination. Wasn't he?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sexton's Cottage
• Release date: Aug 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781988086323

Book preview

Ordinary World

ORDINARY WORLD

ALICE DEGAN

Sexton’s Cottage

Ordinary World

Alice Degan

© 2023 by Alice Degan

Published August 2023 by Sexton’s Cottage Books.

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Alice Degan

CONTENTS

Ordinary World

About the Author

Also by Alice Degan

ORDINARY WORLD

Of all the customers Cristina had to deal with, working for Heaven and Earth , the fairies were the worst. They thought they were so superior. When you were carrying a tray or standing behind a serving table, they thought it meant you were a peasant. In fact, they probably thought everyone who wasn’t a fairy was a peasant. It was disgusting.

Tonight, the Midsummer Ball—one of their many excuses for a lavish party—was proving as tiresome as usual. Cristina marched away from the Heaven and Earth table, lifting her tray of cookies high. Behind her she could hear the man from Other Affairs, John, still talking, trying hard to get his foot out of his mouth. The imbecile.

He had come with them as a last-minute addition to the party, because Rose needed a fake date—everyone needed a fake date when you came Under the Hill, someone to claim you back if the fairies got especially grabby. They were in a magical version of the Don Valley, minus the highway that ran through the ravine in the real world. They were serving cookies. John had just asked where she was from.

Transylvania, he said, wow—I’ve heard it’s beautiful in the, um … spring? And the mountains are … aren’t they … uh …

He was babbling. Earlier he had tried to make a joke about garlic. Pah! If he mentioned Count Dracula, she would threaten him with impaling.

The worst of it was that she had been thinking earlier in the evening that he was good-looking. Maybe her type. She had wished he was her fake date instead of Rose’s. But no, nothing ever went her way.

He had caught up with her and was still talking.

… Systematization, but …

Cristina turned to stare at him. They were still some distance from the first of the fairy tables where they were headed, in a no-man’s-land of bright green grass lit by artificial-looking moonlight.

What did you say? she asked.

I said— He cleared his throat warily. I was about to say, ‘I know the countryside was decimated by Ceaușescu’s Systematization policy.’ I think you left Romania in the 80s, before the revolution, is that right?

She had forgotten that as an Other Affairs officer, of course he could find out all about her. For a moment she had thought that here was someone, a man, with whom she could have a meaningful conversation. But no. She had been so close—thisclose—to making a fool of herself.

She gave him her best sneer. "You know all the story of my life, of course. You have it all in a file folder—a computer file, she corrected herself scornfully. We have no privacy."

Oh. He looked stunned for a moment, then deflated. Then: Well. I don’t—I don’t think that’s quite fair. I mean, members of the Other community have as much right to privacy as any other citizens, and we take that very seriously.

That is your propaganda, she spat.

Well, that’s your perspective, and you’re—which you’re—absolutely entitled. To which you’re absolutely … But, I mean, having said that, absolutely I realize that there’s a dehumanizing aspect to being placed on lists and forced to deal with a special bureaucracy, just because of your identity—and I use that word deliberately. ‘Dehumanizing.’ Of course we could debate what constitutes ‘humanity,’ certainly that would be—and it’s certainly something I’ve given a lot of thought to. To which I’ve given … But to be honest, I don’t think—I mean, I’d rather hear about you. He stopped talking with an obvious effort, looking like a man who had just run a race.

Cristina shifted her tray of cookies to balance it on her hip and tipped back the brim of her hat. She gave John a long look.

We have a job to do, she reminded him.

But she thought about what he had said all the while they threaded their way between tables full of fairy folk, offering cookies that made soft bell noises under the babble of conversation.

I did not come to Canada until the year 2000, she told him when they met up again in the midst of the tables. When I left from Romania in 1985, I went to New York City.

Oh, yes. That makes sense.

She narrowed her eyes at him. How?

Just that New York in the 80s had a serious vampire problem.

I was not a vampire then!

No no no! I meant it makes sense that you would have been vulnerable—as a young woman on your own, without, you know, a support network. There was a lot of predation, and unfortunately people like yourself … That was where you were turned, wasn’t it?

Yes. The restaurant where I worked. I should have been suspicious it was so easy to get a job in the kitchen. They kept losing cooks. I wonder why? She laughed bitterly. The chef de cuisine was eating them.

John shook his head with a sympathetic frown. It’s rough. I hear so many stories like that.

Sympathy instead of disgust. A frown instead of a horrified grimace. Interesting.

So you worked at a restaurant?

"A top restaurant. You would not know, it is closed now. Food was my passion."

You must enjoy working at Heaven and Earth, then?

She shrugged. "It is okay. Baking—pff. It is not the same. I like real food."

"I know what you mean. I’m not that fond of sweet stuff myself. And I’m—not trying to flaunt my privilege or anything, obviously—but as a human, I don’t get all the hype around Rose White’s baking. That’s heresy, right?