Robin waved this off. “And non-dairy, if you have anything.”
“If we have anything.” The girl cackled. “Have you met Chester?” Abruptly businesslike, she stood up to walk behind the displays. “We have more fruit sorbet options in the summertime, of course, but I have a coconut milk flavor and an almond milk flavor right now—enjoy that one while it lasts. Growing almonds uses too much water, so for the sake of the local environment, Chester has decided to phase it out and will toy with more coconut milk or cashew or oat or whatever after the new year.”
Robin turned to Lucas, who was staring at the display with a somewhat overwhelmed expression, spoiled for choice.
The light glinted off the glass, or plexiglass, or whatever it was the front of the displays were made of. Robin tapped his bare fingertip over the shadow of Lucas’ shoulder, then pressed his palm over it, leaving a reflection clear of distractions.
It wouldn’t be bad, he told himself. It was just ice cream.
And it was easy with Lucas there.
“The one that tastes almost like ambrosia,” Robin said, Seeing it so crisply hecouldalmost taste it. “And the one with peanut butter and pretzels.”
He shook his head, more than a little dazed, then swallowed. He turned to Lucas guiltily. “The peanut butter one isn’t non-dairy, but it felt right. The other one is coconut milk.”
“Pineapple, macadamia nuts, coconut milk ice cream with coconut shavings in it.” The girl filled them in. “I call it the Coconut Jamboree, but Chester isn’t sure he likes it as-is, so it doesn’t have an official name. Please let us know if you thinkit needs banana or mango or something. These to-go?” She was already reaching for containers. “And what did you want for now?”
Lucas was quiet. “I’d like to try the almond milk one while it’s here.”
The label readPistachio-Cherry. Interesting. Not for Robin, however.
“Cookies and cream and chocolate for me, please.” If Robin was getting two scoops, he was going to make it good. “With sprinkles.”
When they walked outside a few minutes later, Lucas had a paper bag full of cartons hanging from one wrist and Pistachio-Cherry almond milk ice cream cone in his other hand. He had a bit of pistachio on his face as well. Ice cream was beyond his powers in all respects, it seemed.
Robin had a little paper bowl and a tiny wooden spoon. He was shivering already, his fingertips frozen to the sides of the bowl, but he could admit there was something pleasant about ice cream in cold weather.
He smiled as he crunched some rainbow sprinkles, and nodded respectfully when he looked up and saw what had to be the town’s oldest raven, known as Sassafras, on a nearby roof. Sassafras, battle-scarred and mighty, observed Robin with a tilt to his head that might have meant anything. When he transferred his attention to Lucas, only his sharp, obsidian eyes moved. Lucas returned the look in the same way, unmoving and distrustful.
Then Lucas and Robin walked on, and time and the rest of Ravenscroft seemed to move on with them. Robin released abreath and did not glance back to the ancient bird. He also did not ask what would possibly cause Lucas to give anyone a look like that. He eyed Lucas carefully, but Lucas was enjoying his ice cream again, his nemesis apparently forgotten. Maybe that was an old ritual between them.
Robin wondered about it—the raven only ever gave Robin the same ambiguous head tilt but somehow had ahistorywith Lucas, who had chosen a raven familiar despite that—until they reached the sidewalk crossing that would lead them back to the grocery store, or to one end of the square if they crossed. Then he was pulled from his speculation by Lucas abruptly ignoring the lights and flow of traffic to storm across the street.
And storm he did, stopping cars with barely a glance and sending blustery wind in all directions.
A dog was in the middle of the street, hunched down and cowering until it saw Lucas.
Barely more than a puppy, all legs and ears of brown and black. Probably some kind of hound. It ran joyously toward Lucas, tail wagging it instead of the other way around. Robin caught up to them in time to see Lucas feed the last bit of his waffle cone to the dog and give it one soft pat on the top of its head that set the tail to wagging even harder. Robin noticed a collar but no leash.
“Sorry.” Lucas glanced at Robin and truly did look apologetic, but only for a moment. Then he looked to the waiting cars. “Come.” Lucas continued on his stormy path to the square, and Robin frowned for the second before he realized the order was meant for the dog.
He followed anyway, to get out of the street but also because that was really all he could do.
The dog did the same, trotting after Lucas so happily that Robin understood how Lucas had found so many strays to giveto his brother. Connor had quite the pack going now, although Robin didn’t know if any of them were his familiar.
They were only a few steps onto the dry, brown autumn grass when Josiah Hawthorne, Lisbeth’s youngest, approached Lucas breathlessly. He glanced up to Lucas’ face, flinched, then bent down hurriedly to reach for the dog.
It sat at Lucas’ feet.
“Oh dear,” Robin murmured, drawing Josiah and Lucas’ attention briefly to him.
But Lucas was not in the mood to be distracted. “This is not your familiar.”
Robin glanced furtively around them, but though they had definitely attracted some attention from the holiday tourists, no one was close enough to hear them. He coughed pointedly anyway.
Lucas raised his head.
Josiah, not more than twenty but still old enough to know better, tried to withstand Lucas’ endless stare of judgment. He lasted only a few seconds before he hitched his shoulders almost up to his ears.
