Page 25 of Reap & Sow

An austere doorman guarded the building. He was dressed in puffy breeches, standing vigil atop steps leading to lacquered double doors. He glowered at passersby.

Eda stopped and pretended to fuss with her cloak. Be ready.

“Ah! You there, good sir!” Hillock adopted a ludicrous accent reminiscent of the upper-city denizens, each syllable carefully drawn out. With his stylish tunic and fine leather boots, he didn’t look lowborn. “I know you shall be able to help me. I’m trying to get to Bellmoor Heath.”

The doorman seemed nonplussed by the pompous pageantry. “I’m afraid you’ve a ways to walk yet, sir. Bellmoor Heath is the next borough over, westward.”

“That’s what someone else told me, but I’ve no head for directions. Which way from here?”

“I’m currently indisposed, sir.”

“Just a moment of charity, I beg you. I’m from the capital, you see, and quite lost. Is it farther down this way?” Hillock stepped into the street, squinting. “Which direction once I get to the end of this thoroughfare?”

The doorman sighed and stepped away from his post. Eda’s heart lurched. “The other way, sir.”

Hillock spun on his heel. “Down there? There’s a fork in the road. Which path?”

“That central street will carry you directly to—”

“Which one?”

“That one.”

She inched closer.

“Oh, wouldn’t you point it out? My blasted eyes are no use at this distance.”

Visibly irritated, the doorman finally stepped into the street at Hillock’s shoulder. “There.”

“Where?”

His back was turned. Now. Eda scurried up to the doors and eased one open. Hillock must have seen her from the corner of his eye because he threw an arm around the doorman’s neck and pulled him close. “Truly, what are you seeing? I must be blind.”

“Are you mad? Get off me!”

Eda held her breath as she slipped inside and eased the door closed behind her. She stopped dead, momentarily stunned.

The foyer was wide and glazed. A central switchback staircase took pride of place, glossy with varnish and boasting a lush crimson runner. Above, a three-tiered iron chandelier was full of fresh candles, not a speck of dust in sight. Eda had never felt so out of place.

She scurried up the stairs. On the first floor she paused long enough to look out the window—Hillock was being shooed off by the doorman. His eyes flicked up to the window. He smirked at her before turning away.

Lich had done his part. The rest was up to her.

Lordfather, how did it come to this? Eda couldn’t decide if she dreaded finding a demon here or finding nothing at all. Perhaps both. But this was for Ben and Lawrie, she reminded herself, not an act of selfish greed or vain desire. This was for her family. She was not her father. And she would not turn back now.

There were two main doors on each floor, private dwellings with filigreed black knockers on each. Eda ignored them and continued her ascent. She thought she’d gotten away with her intrusion until she reached the third floor, when one of the apartment doors swung open.

An old woman dressed in satin stepped out and froze. Eda froze in turn.

They stared at one another.

“Who are you?”

The lady was obviously monied: Her green whalebone bodice was sewn with silver thread, the white ruff about her neck crisp and white. Eda was excruciatingly aware of her poorly rebraided hair and rumpled cloak. There was no denying she wore the trappings of a commoner. But she’d prepared for that. “Apologies for startling you, madam. I’m here interviewing for a maid’s position upstairs—I’ll be leaving shortly.” It was usual for commonfolk to apologize for simply existing in the same space as people like this.

The lady narrowed her eyes. “Upstairs? There’s only Mr. Kit that lives up there, and he’s never employed any help before now.”

Mr. Kit. Was that the demon? There was only one penthouse dwelling on the top floor.