Page 24 of Waifs And Strays (The Cat Lady Chronicles #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Four

T rilby led us to a narrow house as close to the river’s edge as it was possible to get. The building stood on its own, canting to one side in the higgledy-piggledy fashion of very old houses. ‘I don’t usually bring visitors here,’ they said. ‘I like my privacy. You’ll understand that, Kit.’

I nodded. I absolutely did.

‘But you won’t understand that, MacTire.’ Trilby was right: Alexander MacTire was squinting as if the concept of privacy was a brand-new idea that had just been presented to him.

‘We won’t come here again,’ I said quietly. ‘Unless we’re invited to do so.’

‘Thank you.’ Trilby smiled. ‘I appreciate that.’

They looked across at MacTire, who shrugged. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to worry about me.’

‘So said the spider to the fly,’ Trilby murmured.

‘I’m walking into your web,’ MacTire pointed out. ‘Not the other way around.’

‘He’s got a point,’ I added.

‘Perhaps,’ Trilby replied. ‘But you two came to me, remember? ’

‘Maybe we should just get this over and done with as quickly as possible,’ I said hastily.

Trilby tipped their hat in response. ‘In that case, in you come.’

The door had been painted bright orange for reasons that escaped me but which put me in mind of Mallory and her colourful flat. It creaked open seemingly of its own accord. Trilby said something under their breath before walking inside and I frowned as I followed them in. ‘What was that?’

‘Nothing you needed to hear,’ they told me.

‘They thanked the house,’ MacTire told me. Unsurprisingly, his hearing was better than mine.

I wasn’t taken aback by MacTire’s werewolf hearing skills but the possibility that Trilby’s house was sentient. Such a thing was rare indeed, but I knew better than to comment. I was now inside the house and it would be wise not to annoy it.

As if it heard my thoughts, the front door swung shut as soon as MacTire had crossed the threshold. He didn’t visibly react but I reckoned he was as surprised – and as nervous – as I suddenly was.

‘There’s more than one reason why it’s not wise to show up here without an invitation,’ Trilby told us.

Uh-huh.

We trailed through a series of twisting hallways and I craned my neck so I could catch glimpses of the rooms on either side. Most of them appeared to be crammed full of objects, suggesting this was as much a warehouse as a home.

When we’d made three turns, it occurred to me that this house was far bigger on the inside than on the outside. I stopped trying to sneak glances into the rooms and started paying attention to the layout; it would be all too easy to get lost for hours – perhaps even for days.

We walked in a straight line for fifty metres or so then turned left and walked for another thirty metres. We turned left again and then again. ‘Are we walking in circles?’ MacTire demanded. There was a loud creak as if the house itself were answering.

‘Be quiet,’ I hissed.

Trilby chuckled. ‘You always did strike me as a smart kid, Kit.’

Kid? How old was Trilby? I opened my mouth to ask, decided it would be better to take my own advice and keep my questions to myself and closed it again.

Still we walked on. I should have brought some breadcrumbs so I could create a trail.

After about fifteen minutes, Trilby stopped in front of a closed door. It was made out of oak and unremarkable in appearance. They bowed their head for a moment as if in prayer, then reached forward and twisted the knob. The door opened to reveal a large room – or at least I supposed it was large. Darkness curled around the edges making it impossible to judge where the walls were. Interesting.

Only the centre of the room was illuminated, though there was no bulb overhead and no candles so the only explanation was magic. Whatever powered the light clearly existed for one reason alone: to provide light for the single piece of furniture.

I stared at the lectern. Although it was simple in design, it appeared to be made out of solid gold that was glinting against the light. I gaped at Trilby; with wealth like that, I couldn’t think of a reason why they needed to wake up at the crack of dawn every day to run a small market stall.

Trilby must have felt my stare but they didn’t react; they simply bustled towards the lectern.

On top of it was a closed book; it looked ancient, with a cracked black leather cover and a fae rune etched on the surface. Was Trilby one of the fae? Full fae? I watched agog as they reached out and gently caressed the book’s surface then they looked up, their clever, dark eyes crinkling at the corners at my expression.

‘Don’t ask questions to which you do not need the answers,’ they said. I inclined my head in understanding; knowledge could be very dangerous indeed.

Alexander MacTire didn’t appear to give a flying fuck about the strange house or Trilby’s heritage. He folded his arms and growled, ‘Let’s get on with it. My nephew has been captive for far too long.’

‘You’ll get your answers,’ Trilby told him and stroked the book again. ‘This isn’t a grimoire and it doesn’t contain magical spells. Think of it as an encyclopaedia of knowledge.’ They paused. ‘Ancient knowledge that this modern world often forgets.’

They dipped their head and their lips moved. I couldn’t hear what they were saying so I glanced at MacTire, but he had pursed his lips; apparently this time he couldn’t hear what Trilby was murmuring either.

After several seconds, Trilby stepped back, their eyes glowing golden. Without any help, the book juddered and the pages flipped while motes of old dust flew up into the air. Even from the doorway I could smell the ancient parchment. The book rose an inch, hung suspended for a breath then fell open back onto the lectern.

‘Cool, huh?’ Trilby grinned and beckoned to us. ‘Come and see.’

My feet stumbled forward as if of their own accord until I was standing by their left shoulder. MacTire moved to their right and all three of us leaned forward to gaze at the open page.

Words danced across the yellowing paper before settling into legible paragraphs. There was a single heading, Demons . A shiver ran through me.

MacTire read the words aloud. ‘ Beware of demons . They cometh from the netherworld and they art not to be trusted. Hunters art they, first and foremost: natural predators equipped with sharp claws, keen senses and a most terrifying agility. They are highly adaptable and can thrive in many a clime, yet make no mistake: a demon is a killer and may murder up to three thousand souls within its own lifespan. This predator is capable of conscious manipulation and can twist unwary mortals into subservient stations whereupon the demon's will alone doth become law. However, anyone who canst bind and command a demon shall wield power most formidable, far beyond the ken of mortal men. Such mastery over the infernal arts doth grant dominion over forces unseen, and with it the might to shape the very world to their will.’

Great. I ran a hand through my hair. ‘I think we can be certain we don’t want to meet any damned demons,’ I said. ‘And we don’t want anyone to gain authority over one.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Trilby’s mouth twitch oddly. ‘Go on, MacTire,’ they said. ‘Keep reading.’

MacTire did as he was told. ‘ There be many ways to bring demons forth from the netherworld. In times long past, oft there would be a simple rent in the fabric that held the netherworld at bay. Through this rent, demons couldst and wouldst sneak. In time the breach was sealed, yet this doth not mean that demons are wholly contained. They can yet be invoked into existence through diverse foul means.’

I licked my lips. Here we go.

‘ On the seventh night of the seventh month at the seventh hour, mayhap seven witches shall gather and chant the seven scriptures with seven tongues. 'Tis said that in so doing they may invoke a demon and bring it forth into this world. ’

MacTire paused and looked at Trilby. ‘The seven scriptures?’

They waved a hand. ‘Nothing to worry about, they’ve been lost for generations. Besides, the seven tongues include three languages that haven’t been heard for more than a thousand years.’

MacTire grunted then continued. ‘ 'Tis also believed that demons may be brought forth by harnessing the power of the werewolf .’ He sucked in a sharp breath.

‘Keep going,’ Trilby said. ‘Keep going! We don’t have all day.’

The werewolf stiffened but he did as Trilby demanded, though his voice was tighter, darker. ‘ If thirteen pints of fresh blood, newly harvested from a werewolf with no kin, be scattered upon sacred ground on the day of the solstice, then mayhap a demon shall emerge .’

Trilby snapped their fingers. ‘There we go. That’s what you wanted, right? That’s the information you were looking for?’

I half-closed my eyes. Shit. Sadly, it was.

MacTire raised his head. ‘How many pints of blood would the average teenage werewolf hold inside their body?’

I used to be an assassin and I knew the answer. ‘An adult werewolf typically has around ten to twelve pints,’ I said dully. ‘A teenager would likely have slightly less – between nine and ten. But they’ve had Nick for several days and they could have drawn several pints of blood already. He’ll still be alive and generating more. Umbra have already advertised their presence at Crackendon Square. There’s an old church on the western corner – I guess that counts as sacred ground.’

A muscle throbbed in MacTire’s cheek. ‘I guess so.’

The words on the page started to move. I stared at them, unsure at first if I was imagining things, but then they coalesced into a black shadow that expanded until it covered the whole page. ‘Watch,’ Trilby whispered.

The page altered again, only this time there weren’t words. Staring at us from the cloud of blank ink were two elongated eyes, the pupils narrow vertical slits. The eyes blinked and I gasped, while MacTire reached out and slammed the book closed.

Trilby appeared unperturbed but my heart was hammering. I’d seen a lot of weird shit in my lifetime but I’d never seen anything like that.

‘Well, my work here is done.’ Trilby dusted off their hands. ‘We should head back. My regular customers will be getting impatient.’ They looked between MacTire and me. ‘It seems to me that you two have rather a lot to do as well. Do take care of yourselves. The solstice is almost upon us.’