Page 27 of Reap & Sow

Eda pressed herself against the door as though she could melt through it. She was locked in. Locked in with a…

She flexed her fingers. The cat did not look away.

Words came dry as parchment. “Demon. Show yourself.”

A twitch of a tail. Was she mistaken? Had the turmoil of the last twelve hours given her some sort of nervous disposition, sent her loopy at last?

But then the cat was no longer a cat.

It happened so quickly she hardly understood it. The creature’s glossy black fur rippled—a distortion underwater—then fell apart like smoke. Dark tendrils twisted up, up into the shape of a man. All over in three heartbeats.

The demon stood tall and still at the end of the corridor. “You’ve a good pair of eyes,” he said in a smooth, lilting tenor. “Tell me why you’re here, before I pluck them out.”

Eda swallowed. Couldn’t help but drink him in, rigid with fear and fascination both.

His hair was black and silken, falling nearly to his shoulders. A broad chest tapered to a narrow waist, lending him a slender frame that seemed ironically feline. Beneath his black hose he was barefoot, Eda noted with surprise. A burgundy undershirt hung loose at his throat, exposing rather more of his sandy-gold chest than could be considered proper. It was impossible not to compare him with Mr. Night, who was deathly pale and all angles: high cheekbones and a sharp, pointed chin. This face, while slender, seemed more gentle in its slopes and valleys—rolling hills rather than jagged mountains.

Those are his true eyes, Eda realized as they narrowed at her. That fiery orange…Mr. Night always kept his hidden. To make himself seem less threatening to the Shaws and those they brought before him, she assumed.

This demon obviously didn’t share the inclination. His gaze was unblinking and openly malevolent.

Eda wet her lips. “I come to make a Pact.”

“How quaint.” His eyebrows, dark but fine, lowered. “Come here.”

She didn’t move.

“Come here,” he repeated slowly, “or I’ll drag you by your fucking throat.”

Her pulse thundered. That smooth, commanding tone was eerily familiar. If he wanted to kill you, he’d have done so already, she told herself. Then again. Cats do like to play with their food.

He moved back to allow her into the parlor. They stood face-to-face, a shaft of light cutting across his cheek.

He was handsome. Eda expected that. Not the ethereal, fae-like beauty of Mr. Night but more akin to a figure from an oil painting. A certain haughtiness that made her think of princes and lords lying disheveled about beautiful castles.

His soft voice raised the hair on her arms: “How did you know to come here?”

“I—I didn’t. Not for certain. There’s a powerful man…a crime lord. He suspects the High Governor of making a Pact. Had enough information to send me here. He means to blackmail the governor, I think. If he can.”

“You work for him?” He began to circle her. This, too, was a familiar dance. Mr. Night always sized up his prey.

“No. His name is Lich. I went to him for help. I needed to find a demon I could make a Pact with, and he saw a chance to let me investigate on his behalf while I did it.”

Her honesty seemed to give the demon pause. She itched to look over her shoulder, to keep him in her eyeline. Not knowing what he meant to do was unbearable.

“And what proof do you intend to give this crime lord? Or is your word alone adequate to implicate the governor?”

So it was true.

“Of course not. He wanted something else in return for helping me.” The silence was ominous enough to speed her on: “There’s a mirror. A Gateway. It’s being held by the Faithhood, and I swore to get it for him.”

“How will you do that, darling?”

Darling. He wielded the term as mockery. “I’ll…need help. A demon’s help.”

“Hn.”

The noise was so distant that Eda couldn’t help but turn to look—and yelped in shock.