Page 40 of Reap & Sow

Eda winced. She thought again of his true form, all ash gray and swooping horns. A trickle of unease crept down her spine. Yours by right, Tripp had said. Did that make Mr. Night a usurper?

The imp lowered his gaze, but it was the demon himself who suddenly seemed uneasy. Facing the river as he was, Eda could not see Kit’s face. His shoulders were taut as a bowstring. He twisted a slate-gray ring on his middle finger, inset with a fat, glittering ruby. If Eda didn’t know better, she’d say the gesture was a nervous one. All that cocksure swagger had fallen down around him as a toppled fortress might, revealing something surprisingly vulnerable within.

He’s afraid. This unnerved her, for when an apex predator cowered, it boded ill for everyone else.

Mr. Night had never once mentioned a brother. He’d rarely spoken about himself at all. Their conversations over the years had been short and always of the demon’s choosing. What did she really know about him? Until yesterday, Eda had had no idea he was a duke. Here she was questioning the limitations of his powers, when perhaps she should be more concerned by the extent of them.

Eda stared at the stiff line of Kit’s back and found that she really, truly didn’t want to know. If Kit is a monster, what sort of creature have I been working for all these years?

She wanted to confess the truth. That the circumstances bringing her here went far deeper than simply housing a Gateway. But how would Kit react if he knew that the same bishop hunting him hunted her as well? That she’d been the one to inadvertently lead Florian Fane to Mr. Night’s mirror, had been serving the same brother that wanted him dead?

Eda did not wish to find out.

Tripp asked, “What now, sire?”

Kit eyed her with obvious mistrust. After a moment’s hesitation, he seemed to conclude that she was inconsequential enough to explain: “Now I will fulfill Eda Shaw’s Pact. Baelion cannot find me so long as I have this.” He brandished the ring to the moonlight. “Once it’s done, I’ll put as much distance between myself and Blackbridge as possible. It’s past time I found new territory.”

“What does the ring do?” Eda asked.

“Robin’s handiwork. Ask her if you’re so curious. In the meantime…” He glowered at Tripp. “You want to serve? Follow this bishop. Learn what it is my brother has granted him. Where he goes, what he does. Report all back to me.”

“Yes, m’lord! Of course!”

Kit’s eyes drifted back to Eda. She clutched her blanket, but he said nothing. With a great whirl of black smoke, the demon abruptly transformed into a sleek black bird. He swooped away into the night.

Cat. Mouse. Horse. Bird. Every creature he’d embodied so far were those made for shadow and speed: shapes to hide or flee rather than fight. There was something telling in that.

“Will he come back?”

Tripp looked at her in disgust. “You have a Pact, no? He must.”

Somewhere below, a porthole window squeaked open. “Would you lot shut the fuck up?” Robin cried. “I’m trying to sleep!”

Tripp disappeared with a pop.

Despite poor rest, Eda did feel better by morning. Robin showed her a tiny washroom below deck—a pine-scented cubicle opposite the mysterious bedroom door—and she washed herself properly for the first time in days. Her hair was a little greasy, but it would do for now. She tied it back with some borrowed string into an acceptable, if messy, plait.

Breakfast was an odd affair. Robin puttered about making tea. Eda offered to help, but the woman merely eyeballed her with obvious distrust. “I’ll have no stranger’s hands rooting about in my pots. There’s not enough room, besides. Sit down and stay out of the way.”

She sat at the folding table, unsure what to do with her hands. Wan sunlight streamed through the portholes, where birds chirped to one another outside. Ducks quacked on the river. Old Bastard made a show of stretching, even deigning to sniff Eda’s hand. Finding it acceptable, he rubbed his head against her knuckles with a purr.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “He must like you.” She put down a generous bowl of oatmeal, topped with apple wedges and honey.

“Perhaps he’s a good judge of character.” Eda palmed the warm bowl and met Robin’s eyes. “Thank you.” Not just for the oatmeal. Whatever Robin’s reasoning, she was putting herself out by housing Eda like this.

The softening of Robin’s mouth suggested she understood. “So. Where’s Lord Arsehole this morning?”

The unexpected moniker had Eda choking on her oats. “I don’t know! I’m not his keeper.”

“You’ll find that getting those brothers of yours back will go faster if you actually start planning together.”

“All I need are his powers. The rest I can handle.”

“So you do have a plan?” She sat across from her, nursing a fresh cup of tea.

“Yes, actually.” Eda thought about it all morning. “I’m sure you’re right about where they’re being kept. But Kit won’t be able to just walk in, will he? Even disguised as a—a cat, or a mouse, or something.”

“No. Fighting through a pack of Blades out on the street is one thing, but taking the fight to them on their territory…a fool’s errand. Nowhere is better warded against demonic power than Fell Keep.”