Page 30 of Reap & Sow

She did. “What’s your name?”

Eda sensed, rather than saw, his cold smile. “I am Kit’rath Ansellis. But given the circumstances, you may call me Kit.”

The door burst open.

Nine

When the Blades spilled into the apartment, Eda was all too happy to let the demon—Kit—face them alone. She cowered behind his expensive lounger as they filled the parlor. He’d gotten fifty years out of her, after all. He could bloody well earn it.

There were at least five of them. A man with salt-and-pepper hair palmed the hilt of his sword. He scanned Kit, the room, her. Eda shrank back.

“This is about the library books, isn’t it?” Kit said. His eyes were an unassuming brown. “I swear I was going to bring them back.”

“We are here by the will of the Faith. We have cause to believe that this woman”—the leader jabbed his finger at Eda—“is a suspected criminal. By harboring her and failing to cooperate with our demands of entry, you are obliged to come with us for questioning. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear.”

They don’t know he’s a demon. Eda eyed the vial of colloidal silver hanging around each Blade’s neck. The Alchemists’ Cloister imbued it with certain reactive properties. She’d heard that when a demon used their powers in close quarters, the silver would bubble and froth in its casing.

The lead Blade reached up and gripped his own, eyes narrowed. “Unless you have cause to resist?”

Eda held her breath. If Kit used his powers, they would know what he was. If he didn’t, he’d have to fight them with old-fashioned brawn. She hadn’t been able to check the Pact she’d signed, but surely there was a clause outlining her protection. He couldn’t just let them take her. Could he?

The Blades shifted uneasily on their feet, chainmail and swords rubbing together like nails on a chalkboard. Ready to pounce.

Kit sighed. He plucked up a wine bottle and tipped back the last of it. A red trail made its way down his chin. He wiped it away and extended the bottle toward the leader, as though challenging him to a duel. “You can suck me off.”

The Blades tensed. Kit pointed to the next. “And you can suck me off. And you. And”—he squinted—“not you, you’re ugly as shit—and him as well.”

The leader drew his sword. “One more word, and I shall cut you down.”

“Stop flirting.” Kit glanced sideways at Eda. His eyes bled from brown to glowing orange, and a tremor of shock ran through the Blades. “You owe me a new apartment, darling.”

The next thing she knew, the wine bottle was sailing through the air. It shattered against the leader’s face. He fell back and clawed at his eyes. “Demon!” he cried. “Demon!”

The Blades sprang into action. They encircled Kit, covering each corner of the room like a well-oiled machine. Despite his compromised vision, the leader did not falter as he reached for his vial. He hurled it straight as Kit, who darted aside. It shattered against the wall. Two Blades were already surging forward to meet him. They were fast and precise, their swords cutting through the air with trained precision.

Kit was faster.

A sword arced toward him in a streak of quicksilver. Kit ducked beneath the swing and popped up again inside the circle of the Blade’s arms. His hands closed over the man’s head and twisted. With a terrible crack, he fell limp. The demon hauled the body around to block an incoming attack like a shield: The Blade’s sword went straight through his comrade’s back. Kit grinned over the skewered soldier pinned between them and shoved them both away with so much force they flew halfway across the room. Another vial flashed through the air. He ducked. It shattered against the marble statue and Kit hissed—some of it caught him across the arm. His skin sizzled audibly beneath his shirt.

“Now!” the leader roared.

Eda spun to look. One of them pulled back a lever on a crossbow she hadn’t even noticed. A pale, shimmering ball exploded from its funnel, whipping outward into a writhing net big enough to ensnare three men.

Kit snarled as it wrapped over him. He seemed to disappear altogether beneath it. Eda’s heart stopped.

The two remaining Blades moved to stand over the net, swords ready. “He’s gone, Captain!”

“No. He’s still here.”

Eda was just debating whether she could make a run for it when she spied a tiny shadow on the floor. It scurried toward her and disappeared beneath the lounger she used as cover.

A glossy jet-black mouse.

Clever bastard.

With no warning, the mouse exploded in a ball of black smog. The entire lounger flew off the ground and hurtled straight into the Blades. They were thrown against the wall with sickening force—a window shattered. One of the men gurgled incoherently, skewered between the glass like meat on a fork. The other lay crumpled beneath the lounger, twisted and motionless.

When Eda dared to look up, she fell on her rear in fright.