Page 84 of Search for the Lost

“How else can we defeat her?”

Nobody at the table offered any suggestions. When Nonna Strega returned without more food, everyone groaned in disappointment. Until she produced several bottles of wine, seemingly out of thin air, and set them on the table. “From my family vineyards.” And yep, she was gone again.

It was a really good wine. Not that Leo was a connoisseur by any means; when he’d previously bought wine, he just chose whatever was cheapest. This, however, definitely tasted like nectar of the gods, the sort of beverage that people would write poetry about. It was definitely not Zima.

By the time Nonna Strega made her next appearance, the pasta bowl was empty, as were the two bottles of wine that Leo and Crispin had been sharing. Leo was feeling extremely relaxed. He shouldn’t have been hungry, yet he licked his lips when she started setting down plates.

“I bring you bistecca alla fiorentina. Also a nice insalata misto, cavolfiori fritti, le carote con basilico….”

Leo, who didn’t even like vegetables, started piling them onto his plate alongside the meat. He stabbed a piece of greenery with his fork and held it in front of Crispin. “Where did the broccoli go to get wasted?”

Crispin frowned. “Vegetables do not use intoxicants.”

“It’s a joke, Crispy. Where did the broccoli go to get wasted?”

“I don’t know, Leopold. Please inform me.”

“To the salad bar!” Leo grinned triumphantly while several people, Crispin included, groaned. Nonna Strega, however, giggled.

Aha! An appreciative audience. Leo grinned at Nonna Strega. “What do you get when you cross a cantaloupe with cauliflower?”

She clapped her hands. “What?”

“Melon-cauli.”

This time she guffawed loudly enough to drown out everyone else’s protests. On a roll now—ha ha ha!—Leo dredged up more food jokes. People never reacted this well to his humor. “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta! Why did the potato start recording his life? He wanted to become a YouTuber! A zucchini walks into a bar— Hey!” The interjection was because Hindie the mouse-WOLF had waddled over and bitten Leo’s thumb.

But Nonna Strega was laughing so hard she could barely speak. “M-mangiate voi!” she chortled. “Dolci soon!” She staggered away, still clutching her sides.

A little disappointed that his standup comedy gig had ended so soon—and a mite painfully—Leo consoled himself with a big bite of the delicious steak. It took him several more forkfuls before he realized that Crispin was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“What?” Leo patted at his mouth, checking for sauce. Or maybe he had spinach caught in his teeth.

“You are a genius, my love!”

“I… am?” He had been called many, many things in his life. Genius wasn’t one of them.

Crispin grabbed Leo’s shoulders and pulled him closer for a big, sloppy, and tasty kiss. When he pulled back a little, he was smiling so widely it must have hurt. “Get ready, Leo. I know how we’re going to slay the witch.”

29

Crispin

Leo was looking at Crispin as if he’d gone mad.

“You want me… to make her laugh to death? Is that even a thing?” As Leo spoke, his hand went automatically to his fork, bringing up another bite of the delicious steak.

They had come to suspect that some sort of food magick was going on. Although they’d tried to magick their way out of it, they were unable to stay focused long enough to break the enchantment.

Food magick was addictive… and Crispin had to admit, if you had to spiral your way out of the Connected Worlds one day anyhow, this was a particularly tasty way to go. But he wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. We have too many things to do together.

Aspin was nodding, though he seemed entranced by a forkful of carrot slices speckled with leafy green bits. “Crispin is right. There’s precedent. Mother accidentally killed a human once with too much enchanted food.” He snorted. “Damned fool couldn’t stop going back for more helpings of elderberry cheesecake.”

Watching Aspin shovel food into his gullet, Crispin shook his head. You obviously can’t see the irony. They were all trapped here in as deliciously dire a dilemma as he could possibly imagine. “When you were telling your jokes, Nonna Strega almost burst from laughter. She bolted out of the room as if a square-spotted cheetah sloth was after her. Did you see how fast she left?” His fork brought a mouthful of fried white vegetable to its final fate. It burst into fireworks of flavor on his tongue. If I somehow survive this misadventure—and if the witch does—I have to get her recipes.

Cypher nodded. “Crispin’s right. He’s always right.” He blinked all doe-eyed at his ex-boss.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Even if you are right—and I’m not saying I believe you—how are we going to laugh her to death?” He took a long sip of his red wine and poured himself another glass of the Dolcetto d’Alba. “None of us is funny enough.”