The Alchemist of Fire and Fortune by Gigi Pandian

Author:Gigi Pandian [Pandian, Gigi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781938213151
Publisher: Gargoyle Girl Productions

Chapter 29

A text from Max was waiting on my phone when I awoke.

Sorry I missed your calls. Can’t talk today but will call soon.

I called him back. The phone went straight to voicemail. “I know you’re back from China, Max,” I said before hanging up.

I squeezed the phone. It was much more satisfying to let out frustration with a land line phone that allowed you to slam the receiver down. Cell phones didn’t allow people to adequately express frustration.

I was grumpy at breakfast, even though the sun had come out full force this morning and I knew I might be close to learning who our blackmailer was. They’d have realized by now that we’d tried to trick them with fool’s gold. It was even more urgent that we figure out who they were.

Dorian had returned from his pre-dawn baking in the Blue Sky Teas kitchen and insisted on fixing a feast for breakfast.

“I would be able to create an even more exquisite meal if a certain forgetful alchemist had not forgotten fenugreek seeds at the market.” Dorian glanced briefly in my direction before ladling thick batter onto a hot cast iron skillet.

“There’s been so much going on I know I haven’t kept up with groceries. I’m sorry.”

“Merci. I accept your apology.”

As the batter heated and cooked, the scent of spices filled the kitchen, slightly improving my mood. I was almost optimistic as Dorian hummed an old French folk song as he sprinkled finely diced bell peppers and herbs on top.

The kitchen door swung open and Perenelle swept inside the cozy room. Her hair was unusually frizzy, making me suspect she felt as frazzled as I had when I woke up. “I’m ravenous.” She headed straight for the fridge.

“No need to scavenge for leftovers,” I said. “Dorian is making enough breakfast for everyone.”

She peeked up at Dorian from behind the open door of the fridge. “Really?”

“A mung bean omelet,” he said from his stepping stool in front of the stove, “with onions, bell peppers, parsley and cilantro from the garden, and a spice mix of turmeric, cumin, coriander, fennel, and pepper. Served alongside brioche bread and warm golden oat milk.”

With the pan in his hand, he hopped off the stool and divided the omelet into four equal pieces. He handed the first plate to Perenelle, where she was seated at the small kitchen table across from me. “Qu'est-ce que vous pensez?”

“The omelet and golden milk are both a beautiful tint of yellow,” Perenelle replied. “I would have thought those green-colored legumes you soaked overnight would have muddied the vivid yellow of the turmeric, but it has only made it more vibrant. Well done.”

“You speak solely of color?” Dorian huffed.

“The flavor is excellent, too,” I said, savoring a bite of the flavorful, fluffy omelet.

“Will Monsieur Flamel be joining us as well?” Dorian asked. “The omelet is high in protein and the spices will help awaken him.”

“Nicolas will be down shortly.”

Sure enough, as I took my first sip of the sweet and spicy frothed golden milk, Nicolas pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door.

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