COOKIE COOKIE

Sarah Goslee

Copyright © 2013 Sarah Goslee

All rights reserved.

To everyone who likes cookies.

If you enjoyed this story, please try out Maggie's first adventure, Horn, available from Amazon.

Snow swirled glittering in the streetlights, stinging my cheeks. The icy wind muted the odors any town accumulated, from the machines and people inhabiting it. I pulled my hood a bit tighter, walked a bit faster. I wanted to have a drink or two, so I had decided to walk to Megan's party instead of drive, but I was kind of regretting it.

I was already late. The last customer at the shop had stayed well past closing time. The young woman had waited until the last other customer had paid for her yarn and departed before asking me shyly what I thought she should knit as a Christmas present for a vampire. I asked her a few questions about the vampire, trying to figure out whether he was actual undead or a Goth wannabe without letting on that there really were vampires. She didn't smell of vampire at all, didn't display any visible bite marks, and she had no hesitation about telling me that he was her new boyfriend. College kids playing at the supernatural: so cute, but making me late for the party.

I fixed her up with some nice black wool from the sale bin, and knitting needles to match the yarn weight. I didn't tell her there was no chance of her finishing a scarf by Christmas; she'd figure that out soon enough. If her friend had actually been a vampire, I would have suggested colored silk. None of the vampires I knew wore much black, except for special occasions. Black made them look pallid; colors were better. Vampires didn't really require knitwear, but most of them liked to accessorize. And who better to ask about knitting for vampires than the werewolf who owns the yarn shop?

Megan's house shone in the darkness: porch lights, interior lights, holiday light strings in multiple colors festooned over the shrubs. The little stars were new since last time I'd stopped over. Every time I looked she had added more lights. Each bulb was haloed with glistening snowflakes.

I stepped in the front door without knocking, dumping my coat on the heap. The smell of warm bodies enveloped me, mixed with spruce needles, hot cider, cookies and rum. I had hoped to come early, fulfill my social obligations and have some cookies and one of Megan's rum-laden hot chocolates, or maybe two, and leave before the house got too crowded. This time of the month I tried to avoid crowds as much as possible, but I didn't want to miss Megan's party entirely.

"Karen!" Megan exclaimed, hugging me tight. Sweat and a hint of perfume filled my nose. She was a good friend, though firmly of the lightlife, so it didn't stir any deeper response. I had tried to tell her once about being a werewolf, but she refused to listen so firmly that I could almost see my words bouncing off. I hoped I had arrived early enough that Ella was still up. Bedtime was pushed back on party nights for big girls who went to kindergarten, but she would be put to bed far earlier than the party would break up.

And there was Ella now, running towards me through a forest of legs, her curly brown hair escaping from a festive red bow that was utterly failing to confine it. She threw her arms around my waist. "Auntie Karen! You came!"

"Of course I came, sweetheart," I replied, picking her up. "I always come."

"Ella's been waiting impatiently for you since people started to show up." Megan ruffled her daughter's hair in the way that I hated as a kid. Ella never seemed to mind, but it made me uncomfortable. A trio came in, bundled in coats and hats (machine-knitted), and Megan flitted off to greet them.

I jiggled her a little. "I can't spin you, you'd kick someone."

"I know! There are so many people here." Ella was right, the room was already packed with people holding drinks and eating cookies. I waved at Maggie, standing along the wall talking to a pair of guys I didn't know, and at a few other friends. Ella squirmed out of my arms. "Wait right here," she ordered. "You'll stay here, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." But Ella turned to look several times as she wove her way across the room, disappearing into the kitchen. She came right back out, holding a plate and concentrating fiercely on not bumping anyone and spilling it. I had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Look!" Ella held the platter out. "I made cookies! And decorated them! I made one just for you." The plate was covered with sugar cookies stars and bells showing Ella's liberal hand with the frosting, and a preponderance of purple. Also a whole lot of dragees. Those little silver balls that show up everywhere at Christmas time? Those have real silver in them. I could smell it wafting from the plate, souring the otherwise-enticing sweet aromas of vanilla and spices.

"Those look beautiful, Ella, and so yummy. Thank you." I reached for the cookie with the fewest silver balls. I could try to choke down a couple in the interest of cross-species harmony, and of not disappointing my favorite little girl.

"Not that one, Auntie Karen. I made this one for you." She pointed with one hand, the plate wobbling dangerously. Of course that cookie, the biggest purplest bell, covered with edible glitter and as many dragees as would fit. Of course that one.

I swallowed. "That's so pretty, Ella. Wouldn't you like to eat it yourself?"

"No, I made that one for you."

"I think Maggie would really like it. Isn't purple her favorite color?"

"I made her a purple one, and she ate it already." Ella looked up at me. I was afraid she was going to ask why I didn't like her cookie, so I picked it up gingerly and nibbled on the edge with the fewest dragees.

"Ella, I think this must be the most wonderfullest cookie I've ever eaten." She threw her arms around me with a level of enthusiasm only a five-year-old can manage. I thought about losing my balance and dropping the cookie, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"You can eat the glitter," she told me seriously, "and the beebees too but you shouldn't bite them too hard or you might break your teeth."

"Okay, I'll try not to." My teeth would never break on something like that, but it was worth a try. "Sweetheart, I worry about the beebees hurting my teeth. Would it be okay if I picked them off?"

"No, you just have to eat them like this." She picked up a cookie and carefully nibbled at it. "You can't bite on the beebees, but you can suck on them and they melt." She stuck out her tongue to show me the dissolving silver balls. Just what I didn't want: silver spreading over my mucous membranes.

I took a larger bite. Pain and injury were no match for Ella. The silver balls burned the roof of my mouth, like I'd taken a mouthful of glowing coals instead of a holiday treat. I really didn't want to swallow them, so I ate like a chipmunk, storing the dragees in my cheek. I'd be chewing carefully for a few days, but it beat the alternative. I just needed to spit them out before they dissolved and the silver seeped down my throat.

Maggie's companions headed for the drinks table. I waved at her over Ella's head. "Maggie! Come here! Have you seen Ella's cookies?"

"Ella made me one too," she replied, eyeing my cookie curiously. "The silver dragees are so cute. Is it true they're made with real silver?"

"Yup," I answered, waving my cookie at her. Maggie was totally human, but knew exactly what that meant.

Maggie pulled the glittering gold and purple ribbon from her hair. "Ella, your bow is falling out. Would you like me to put a purple one in?"

"Can I keep the red one too?"

"You can have as many bows as you want. Let's go over there where there's more room." Maggie took Ella's hand. She looked back over her shoulder at me as I spit the dragees into a napkin. "You're welcome," she mouthed, then turned back to Ella.

I snuck the cookie into the trash under a pile of plates and napkins. My cheek hurt and my nose was full of the silver reek, but my throat felt fine. I owed Maggie one. Maybe I'd knit her a pair of the heavy hiking socks she liked. Right now, though, it was Christmas, and I needed a cocoa more than ever.

I think I'll skip the cookies, though.