Promises to Keep

Jay stepped into the front office, with Brina just behind him.

“There has been some confusion as to the location of some of Lady Brina’s property,” he explained to the nervous-looking secretary, who had overheard the entire conversation. “I’m going to go with her for now to help with her household until this is sorted out. Would you make sure Caryn is notified?”

Caryn and the rest of their kin would be able to retrieve him if necessary, or otherwise smooth the way for him to escape. As a last resort, he had his knife.

In the meantime, he was hardier than a human; oil paints wouldn’t harm him, and he could make sure Brina didn’t accidentally starve her staff.

“You may drive,” Brina said. “I did not bring a vehicle. I will give you directions.”

So kind of her.

He drove; she directed. He noticed they were going into Pyridge just in time to feel them cross the border of the circle into Midnight’s land.

Why did he feel it this time? What had changed?

They stopped in front of a Victorian-style home with large bay windows. He parked in the driveway, and Brina “allowed” him to open her door and escort her onto the porch.

The house was pretty, he decided. It would have been odd for a vampire to have so many windows, but sun wasn’t actively dangerous to vampires—only fatiguing—and Brina was an artist. She needed the light.

Brina opened the front door without a key, and a lanky feline launched itself at her.

She caught the spotted beast in her arms and pulled it to her chest with no concern for the white and gold fur that stuck to the silk bodice of her dress. The cat looked up at Jay with pale blue eyes and then looked away, apparently unconcerned.

He reached for it mentally, and received a sense of New toy? Not in the mood to play now. Dinner? It’s time for dinner. Dinner!

The cat nipped at Brina’s cheek, demanding food. It wasn’t starving, but whatever routine its meals had been set to had been disrupted, and it was annoyed that Brina seemed to want to snuggle instead of feeding it right now!

“I think your cat is hungry,” Jay said.

Food! it demanded with a plaintive yowl.

I’m working on it! he replied. The cat’s ears twitched and its tail lashed, as if to say, I did not give you permission to speak to me.

“Oh,” Brina said, dropping the cat. “Well, you can feed it. The kitchen is somewhere around here. I need … to get back to my work.”

She disappeared, leaving Jay alone in the front hall with a cross cat staring at him with ice-blue eyes.

CHAPTER 15

JAY TESTED THE front door. It had no apparent lock but didn’t budge at a casual push.

Well, then. He would deal with that later, after SingleEarth had some time to work out this snarl, and Jay had made an attempt to reason with Brina. For now, he had more important things to do.

The cat’s body was dense and its ears rounded, as if it had some wildcat in it. Hopefully that would be useful; his connection with Lynx made it easier for him to communicate with other felines.

Where’s the food? Jay asked it.

It darted from the room. Follow!

Funny—the cat and Brina seemed to have a lot in common.

Jay scraped a can of food into a hand-painted porcelain cat bowl, then watched while the irate feline ate. Once it had finished its meal, he wrestled with it for a few minutes, gradually getting himself more attuned to its mind and letting it investigate his. The cat didn’t have a sense of what a witch was, and didn’t care, but it was willing to tolerate his catness as long as he maintained proper deference.

When Jay inquired what the household was like, he received a mixed bundle of images.

The person who normally gave it food was also somewhat feline. The cat had tried to talk to her, but Pet’s cat wasn’t allowed to talk back. She was only allowed to act human, feed the cat, and order the other slaves to clean up and provide playtime.

There was one slave who normally provided the most playtime, but the cat had not seen him in a while, since the food-giving slave with a cat hidden inside had disappeared.

The cat thought of Brina as two people. One was a love giver. One was evil. The cat could normally tell quickly which was which, and when that Brina was around, the cat ran outside.

Outside? Jay asked, wondering if there was another exit.

The cat showed him to its cat door, installed in place of one of the panes of a downstairs window. It was too small for a person, but Lynx might be able to fit through if he came looking for Jay.

Do you know where the playtime slave is? Jay asked.

Upstairs, the cat replied, showing him to a grand staircase. At the top of the stairs was a landing, and then a locked door.

Key? Jay asked, trying the doorknob. He was pretty sure the lock here was mundane, not mystical.

The cat didn’t understand the concept of a key, only of doors opening or closing.

Who normally opens the door?

Images of Brina and Pet answered him.

If I were a key, where would I be? Jay wondered, making the cat twitch its ears.

First you’re a cat, and now you want to be this key thing?

He had learned from past experience that trying to explain a figure of speech to a cat was a lost cause, so instead he proposed, I have a hunting game. If we succeed, I think we may be able to find the playtime slave. There is an object that the food slave would have used whenever she opened the door.

Cat did not help much in the search, instead spending most of the time pouncing at Jay, putting occasional teeth marks in his pants.

Beyond a well-stocked kitchen and dining room, there was a parlor with elegant furniture the cat shied away from. It evoked memories of severe reactions from the master of the house—Lord Daryl, Jay believed. He tried to explain to Cat that Daryl was dead, and received a haughty response that could best be translated as Duh.

He tried to clarify that Daryl was dead in a way that meant he wouldn’t be walking around anymore, as opposed to dead in the way of a vampire, but the cat bit him hard on the leg to close the subject and then decided to fix the problem by climbing the stairs, standing up with its front paws against the door, and yowling, screaming, at the top of its lungs, Open this door!

We need the key, Jay tried to explain.

What is this key thing you’re obsessed about? it snapped back. Leave the key. I don’t care about the key. Tell them to open the door! They don’t listen to me.

Tell them to open the door? Jay asked, feeling more than a little stupid.

Yes! the cat said, adding an angry hiss.

Jay climbed the stairs once more and knocked on the slick wooden door. At first, he received no response, which in some ways made him feel better. Maybe the door did open on this side, and he hadn’t been incredibly stupid. At the cat’s demands, he tried a second time, and was rewarded by rustling on the other side, followed by the snick of a lock being turned, followed by …

Need.

His eyes saw a human being, but his empathy showed nothing but a raw, hungry emptiness. Jay nearly fell backward as he was struck by the intensity of hunger, thirst, and exhaustion.