Page 26 of Reap & Sow

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about the master. Was just told to report to this address.”

The old woman huffed. “You shall get little insight from me, girl. I hardly ever see the man. I’m more acquainted with his cat, if you can believe it!”

With that, she closed her door and marched down the stairs. The train of her dress dragged behind her in a sumptuous river of satin. She spared Eda one last mistrustful glance before disappearing from view.

Eda hesitantly carried on. A cat. She tried to imagine Mr. Night making a pet out of some stray tabby and nearly snorted aloud. The prospect of finding an actual demon here seemed more unlikely by the second.

Upstairs, there was only one door. It looked identical to all the others. Eda wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for—something, anything, to indicate that a creature from another world roamed these halls. But it seemed she’d never know for sure without speaking to him. Like a visitor dropping by for tea.

Somehow, she found the courage to knock.

Eda waited. Nothing.

She bit her lip. Knocked again, harder.

Still nothing. Where on earth would a demon go in the middle of the day like this? A spot of shopping? A leisurely walk by the riverside? Mr. Night had little regard for such trivial human things, but this demon was hiding here by choice. Maybe they aren’t all alike.

Eda had convinced herself that exposure to Mr. Night meant she’d be prepared to meet another demon. Now she didn’t feel prepared at all. If Severin Lich was right, and the Otherworld was as tangible and complex as their own, mightn’t demons be just as varied as people? Just as unpredictable?

“Mr. Kit?” Her voice came thin with unease. Perhaps he can’t hear me. Eda gripped the doorknob and gave it a twist, fully expecting resistance—until it clicked open.

The door swung wide. “Hello?”

Within waited a short, dark hallway. Eda stiffly crossed the threshold and followed it into a sumptuously furnished parlor.

The drapes were half-drawn, milky daylight spilling across an intricately woven rug in slats. Dust motes danced over the back of a large velvet lounger strewn with feather cushions. Every timber wall was covered in paintings, empty goblets scattered here and there. In one corner, a marble statue of a scantily clad woman held dead flowers in her outstretched hand, as though someone found it amusing to stuff them there.

The place rivaled even the fullest corners of Shaws’ Antiques. But it was clearly lived in.

No one’s home. Chagrined, Eda turned to leave.

The door slammed shut.

She jumped. Her heart spurred into a gallop. She ran to the door, tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge.

Alarm spiraled into full-blown panic. Saints, what is this? “Let me out,” Eda snapped, sternly at first, then with increasing desperation. “I said let me out! Let me—” She froze. The hairs on her neck stood upright.

Someone was behind her.

Every instinct urged her to turn around. She strained for the sounds of footsteps, for breathing…but there was only the patter of light rain against the windows.

Courage, Eda.

She turned.

Sat in the center of the parlor was a black cat. It regarded her with vibrant orange eyes, tail curled about its paws.

Eda actually laughed aloud in relief. “Hello, kitty.” She gripped her chest. “You scared me.”

The cat continued to stare, motionless. Unease rippled down Eda’s spine. She liked cats. Had always wanted to keep one, but they irritated Lawrie’s eyes. Eda satisfied her longing by petting the local strays where she could. She had come to know how they moved, how they stretched and sauntered and flicked their tails. She’d never seen one so uncannily still as this.

“You didn’t lock the door, did you?” She said it in nervous jest, even as a cold wave of realization mounted. What had Mr. Night told the bishop, regarding the other demon?

He is a skilled shape-shifter.

She thought of the old lady on the landing.

I’m more acquainted with his cat.