Page 33 of Reap & Sow
“Do I get off here?”
Eda took his continued glare as confirmation.
Her hands had been locked around his mane long enough that releasing him actually hurt. Her joints were stiff with cold without the protection of her cloak, her palm a stinging, bloody mess. She’d barely found her feet before Kit was transforming in a whirl of black smoke.
He adopted his mortal guise, to her relief, but his eyes remained their unnerving fiery hue. His forearm was red and blistered where it peeked beneath his sleeve. Eda considered him as he stumbled drunkenly toward the oak tree, leaning against it for support. Demons tire, too, apparently.
“Are you…unwell?”
His eyes slid toward her. “Certain shapes take more effort to maintain. I haven’t used that one in a long time.”
Her head spun with unanswered questions. Right now, there was only one worth asking. “When can we free my brothers?”
“Impatient little thing, aren’t you?”
“We have a Pact. You promised—”
“I know the terms.”
“Well, I don’t. I didn’t even get the chance to read it.”
“Yet you signed. A monumental error in judgment, I’d say, but hardly my fault.” He looked down his nose at her like a lord to his chambermaid. “Worry not. You asked for my help in rescuing your kin, and I shall give it. But first…” He gestured sharply at his feet. “Let it be noted that I am fucking barefoot.”
Eda blinked. He was.
“Barefoot! Like a common animal!” He stepped gingerly over the wet grass. It had rained recently, and the ground was muddy beneath. “Bad enough that those sanctimonious bellends ruined my apartment. Now they ruin my trousers too. These are a tailored Forisian wool blend!”
Eda could only follow him as he marched down the riverbank, dumbfounded. “I didn’t think demons cared about human fashion.”
“Don’t tar us all with your brush, darling. Some of us have taste.” He glanced her up and down.
What an arsehole. Only residual fear of him held back a sharper retort. She could still see his bloodstained grin, the captain’s open throat. “Kindly answer my first question. When can we get my brothers?”
“That depends. Do you have a plan?”
Eda faltered. “Well…no. Not yet. I thought—”
“You thought I would magically teleport into their cell and pop back out, job done?”
Maybe. “Not exactly.”
“I cannot materialize wherever I wish, more’s the pity. Even if I could, the Blades will be keeping them beneath the Great Templehouse. That place is warded more tightly than a Sacred Sister’s knickers. I would know.” Whether he alluded to personal knowledge of the prison or a holy woman’s underthings, Eda did not wish to guess. “This heroic rescue will take proper planning…what’s your name again?”
“Eda Shaw! I told you already.”
“Yes, well. I’ve a poor memory for boring people.”
Eda gritted her teeth. Perhaps she shouldn’t expect propriety from a demon who’d ripped out a man’s throat an hour prior. If the worst he threw her way were barbed words, she should consider herself lucky. The Pact alone protected her.
“Is that where we’re going?” she pressed. “To plan?”
“That, and thanks to you, Eda, I’m homeless. My hope is that she’ll let us stay a while.”
“Who?”
Kit did not see fit to answer. Instead, he approached a wide-beamed canal boat moored farther down the bank, painted a charming blue. Eda hadn’t paid it much mind; there were plenty of river dwellers along this stretch of water. It was a twin-hulled barge, wider than the narrowboats favored by the riverfolk. A central cabin dominated the length of it, with a narrow walkway around the edge. A large paddle wheel was set beneath the deck, hand-powered by the tall crank sticking out the stern. Oriana was painted on its side in swirling white.
She hung back as Kit deftly hopped onto the deck as if he owned it. He stepped around clusters of planting pots and knocked on the cabin doors, a tad too forcefully. Movement stirred beyond one of the portholes.
