Katalepsis V: "No Nook of English Ground" (part two)

Open the door, step on the floor, out of the house comes a dinosaur. Or, something big at least. Maybe a dinosaur, maybe something else. We'll find out!

5.2​

Evelyn's father was indeed at home.

He was a huge bear of a man. Despite the initial shock at three hundred pounds of six-foot-five blonde bearded viking bounding down the estate's front steps, I warmed to him instantly.

"Evelyn!" He boomed, arms wide, ruddy face lighting up in a huge smile beneath a squashed boxer's nose. "You should have called! I had no idea."

"Yes, well." Evelyn gave him a very level look. "Here I am."

He laughed, a jolly, rolling sound. "Here, give your old man a hug!"

He strode up to us and lifted Evelyn right off her feet. I had to suppress a flinch. That would have been terribly rude of me – this man was no monster, just uncommonly large, in every direction. I contented myself with a small step backward, though I needn't have bothered; he was completely absorbed in embracing his daughter.

"Don't pick me up, you oaf!" Evelyn spat. "Put me down!"

He weathered his daughter's outrage with more jolly laughter, and set her down very gently.

Evelyn is half dinosaur, cool!

The dramatic "out came a giant" cliffhanger at the end of last chapter suggests that he isn't just normal big, even for a direct Viking descendent. Either a rare giantism condition, or some sort of whacky supersoldier transformation courtesy of his late wife.

He seems to love his daughter. Even if she never forgave him for marrying her mother. Wonder what the story of that romance was like? Or the story of that co-parenting, for that matter?

I couldn't help but notice he held onto Evelyn for a moment longer than necessary, to help her find her unsteady feet and brace her walking stick firmly against the ground. He'd swept her into that hug many, many times before. I wondered if he'd dropped her once, how often she'd stumbled and fallen over as a child, unused to her prosthetic leg and the chronic pain.

Did we ever learn how old Evelyn was when she lost the leg? I can't remember. How long would it have been that he's had to account for this?

"Here, let me get a good look at you, I haven't seen your face for months," he said, hands on her shoulders. He pulled a theatrical expression of careful scrutiny, bunching up his bushy eyebrows. "Mmm, yes, I suspected so."

"Suspected what?" Evelyn snapped.

"That you are as fantastic as the last time I saw you, my dear."

"You've been drinking."

"Two glasses of wine with dinner, that's all. No harm in a little lubrication now and then." He chuckled through Evelyn's very unimpressed look.

"A little," she growled.

On one hand, I doubt two glasses would do much to a guy that size.

On the other, who even knows what kind of wine he drinks lol.

"Oh, Evelyn, Evelyn, you really should have called ahead, I would have put something in the oven for you and your friends. You're lucky I was even here, I spent yesterday night in the city. We just won a big case, and I went out drinking with the judge afterwards – all a bit hush hush on that though." He winked broadly and put a stubby finger to his lips for a moment.

How lovely. -__-

Well, uh...at least that means he wasn't at home drinking alone? Silver lining?

"So, tell me, how long are you and your friends planning on staying? The university term is just ending, isn't it?" He cast a cursory glance over myself, Raine, and Praem, and didn't seem to take us in before he looked back to his daughter. "All the way 'till Christmas? I was supposed to be taking Christmas dinner with Angeline, but I can change plans, we could have your aunt and uncle over. It'll be wonderful, the house will be full up for once!"

When Evelyn had opened up about her past, she'd called her father a 'weak fool'. No description seemed less apt for this animated giant of a man, the wide sweeping gestures of his ham hock hands, the weight of muscle beneath his gut. He should be striding across some ancient battlefield in a Norse Saga, hefting a war axe – not squeezed into suit trousers and a neat shirt with the sleeves rolled up, in 21st century rural England.

Father and daughter shared little resemblance – except for the glorious golden blonde hair. Evelyn had inherited that from him, just as wild and thick, though her father was going grey from the temples upward.

Everything else must have come from her mother.

I'll be totally honest with you Heather, he seems like a weak fool to me. Uncritical. Blithe. Too privileged to understand his place in the world. Physical strength and social energy have nothing to do with the kind of strength Evelyn was obviously referring to, and her mom didn't sound like a person who ever would have settled for a lazy or boring husband.

Also...Heather, am I reading a little bit of bisexual energy here? I feel like I might be.

"I'm not staying long," Evelyn grunted.

Her father did a poor job of concealing his puppy-like disappointment, though he did try, and I believe in that moment I came to completely understand the man.

"Well! Well, however long you're planning to stay, first off you should probably all come inside and get out of this dammed cold!" He laughed at his own simple wit, playing the gregarious host, making big gestures with his hands as he looked around at the friends who had brought his daughter home.

"Bloody right," Evelyn muttered, but she made no move toward the front door.

He wasn't exaggerating. A biting cold was creeping up on us. Even sheltered by the bulwark of the house and the density of the trees, the December night's chill cut through my pink hoodie and sapped my strength, leeching away the lingering heat from the car ride. I seemed to feel the cold more acutely these days, as if the repeated use of hyperdimensional mathematics had turned me partially cold-blooded. I did rather desperately want to get indoors.

Interesting about the cold sensitivity. Perhaps her sense of touch is being sharpened by exposure to so many unearthly environments? Or maybe all the physical trauma she's been putting her body through has just weakened her system and she isn't yet fully recovered? That would explain why Raine has been so delicate with her lately, if she notices the lingering weakness more than Heather herself does.

Alternatively, cold-sensitivity is a symptom of King In Yellow infection.

One of my greatest flaws, I was too polite to make a move before our host did. I scrunched up the ends of my sleeves around my hands. At least my teeth weren't chattering, yet.

"Have you eaten on the road?" Evelyn's father was asking, as he gestured at the house. "I've got leftovers, all sorts. Some cold lasagna in the fridge, probably some part-baked garlic bread to spare too. I've got some, um … " He nodded in recognition to Raine, who smiled back at him. "Raine, yes, uh, glad to see you're well."

"Always doing great, thank you." She hefted our bags in one hand and closed the car's boot. "And how have you been?"

"Oh, fine, fine, yes, quite." He swallowed, purging himself of a nasty taste. he turned his smile on Praem and I. "And who are you two young ladies? You must introduce us, Evelyn."

I love how everyone from Evelyn's past is terrified of Raine.

I begin to suspect that they let her take the credit for landing the killing blow on Evelyn's mother, regardless of whether or not it was actually her.

"This is Heather," said Evelyn. "She's my … friend."

"A friend? An actual friend? Well, blow me down with a feather." His eyebrows climbed like a pair of fat caterpillars and he grinned with genuine delight and stuck out a hand toward me. "Very pleased to meet you then, Heather. You have no idea how much of a relief it is that she's finally making some friends at university."

He presented a strange sight, this giant of a man framed by the bulk of the spider-servitor behind him, that he couldn't see. What was it like, living in this house, in the unseen wreckage of his dead wife's work? Two minutes earlier I would have found him intimidating, but now I felt sorry for him. I gave him my best smile and shook his hand.

"Heather Morell," I said. "That's me, I mean. Mister Saye?"

"Do call me Lewis, please."

"She's one of us," Evelyn added.

"Ah." Lewis Saye's smile froze for a fraction of a second; another fumbled attempt to suppress his gut emotional reaction, and this time it made me feel awful. For an eye blink, so short I would have missed it if I hadn't been shaking his hand, this viking throwback was wary of me.

Lewis: "Damnit, and I thought my daughter had finally made a token hetero acquaintance."

Then the moment passed, and he was all welcoming and big smiles again.

"Ah, well." He shrugged, then burst into a good natured belly chuckle. "I shan't hold it against you."

I know, I know, "one of us" probably means "magic-adjacent," but this plays hilariously well with my wilful misinterpretation above.

I was gripped by the most bizarre urge to apologise. Instead, for once in my life, I managed to say the right thing. "Evelyn's a great friend to me. She really is."

"Ahhh, I expect no less of my girl." He beamed at me, though in my peripheral vision I saw Evelyn roll her eyes. "That's wonderful, wonderful. And who might this be?" Before anyone could stop him, Lewis Saye turned to Praem and stuck out his hand. "Delighted to meet you as well, I'm sure … I … oh."

Praem stared back.

That little 'oh' was so small and defeated. His bluff and bluster fell at the hurdle of Praem's eyes. Lewis Saye's smile died, leaving only numb shock. He retracted his proffered hand and took an uncertain half step back from the doll-demon. Praem just stared, a few strands of her long blonde hair loose in the wind.

"Goddamnit, the robot is gay too?!"

Lewis looked to his daughter for help, tried to form a question, managed only to swallow.

"Oh for God's sake, yes." Evelyn scowled. "It's exactly what you think it is. Deal with it."

"She," I corrected softly. Evelyn let out a huff.

Lewis was absolutely lost. He blinked at Praem with a shadow of the expression I had imagined for my mother's face when I presented her with Raine, but tainted with equal parts fear and surrender. The look of a man who knows he is powerless to avoid certain horror.

"She's made of wood," Raine said quickly, stepping up to fill the gap with her effortless confidence – and literally, stepping forward and handing Praem one of the bags, looping the strap over the demon's shoulder. Praem adjusted to the weight, tilting slightly. "A life size doll, you know, like a shop mannequin. We've had her for weeks, she's perfectly safe. Not that bright, either."

"Her name is Praem," I added.

Lewis blinked at me. "Na- name?"

"Y-yes. Yes," I said, and felt especially lame.

He turned back to Evelyn. "In- in the house? You want it … to come in?"

In the tremor of his voice I heard an echo of how he must have been with her mother; this was what Evelyn had called weak. My heart went out to them both.

I'm getting the impression that he spent his whole married life convinced that being a witch was "just my otherwise-normal wife's weird hobby" and totally dissociated himself from whatever she did to Evelyn.

I wonder. Could this be a thinly veiled allegory for an ostensiby well-intentioned member of the wealthy, privileged member of the elite being wilfully blind to the injustice and victimization he unthinkingly participates in? Hmm. Nahhhhh.

"No, I thought we'd station her out here to stand around and scare off the birds," Evelyn said. "Of course in the house, what's the point of having her otherwise? You lived most of your life with far worse under your feet." She shouldered past her father's wavering hand and trudged up toward the house's front door, leaning heavily on her walking stick.

"Have things-" he turned to Raine, a distraught frown on his face. "Have things gotten that bad in Sharrowford?"

Raine smiled that endless confidence and shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing major. We had to deal with a couple of problems, that's all. Praem's just insurance."

"Nothing major?" I couldn't stop myself. Raine had the good grace to look a little sheepish as she shot me an apologetic smile.

"I-I thought … " Evelyn's father shook his head, casting his eyes across the semi-circle of tarmac and the thin grass beyond as if searching for help. "I- I should- she can come to me about anything. She- … "

"About our kind of stuff?" Raine asked.

Lewis Saye stared at her blankly. Then he swallowed and turned away, to follow his daughter up the steps to the front door, underneath the overhanging bulk of a giant pneuma-somatic spider he couldn't even see.

Yeah, I don't think there's anything he could have done to help with the New Suns. The Lilliburnes don't seem like the type who would cave to litigation.

Heh, I was half expecting Raine to say "no no, you misunderstand, Praem is exclusively a pleasure unit." Just to see the look on Evelyn and Lewis' faces.

When he was beyond earshot, I let out a huge sigh. "That went less than well."

"Give him about twenty minutes, he'll be right back to normal," Raine murmured. "Hey, he's a hell of a bloke, he spent twenty years dealing with her mum. You don't marry a mage for two decades without pretty thick skin."

"Raine, that is a deeply traumatised man," I muttered under my breath. "How much does he even know?"

"Oh, he's totally clued in. Sort of." She shrugged. "He doesn't like it. Seriously, twenty minutes, he'll be cracking bad jokes again. Even if Evee starts an argument with him. Hell, especially if she starts an argument with him, that'll perk him right up."

I shook my head, watching as Evelyn stepped inside the house with her father at her heels. The last dregs of sunlight drained from the sky, orange sunset snagged on the very tips of the distant trees. Darkness closed in tight behind us – rural darkness, no streetlights or urban light pollution out here. The windows of the great house cast the only illumination. Darker shapes scuttled and scurried in the deepening night beyond. When I looked up, I could see so many more stars than I usually would.

"Feed me a strawberry," Praem intoned.

"Someone's hungry," Raine said. "Where's Evee keeping the zombie food?"

"In her bag, I think. Later," I added, glancing at Praem's impassive face.

Eesh. You better hope nobody blasts off an arm with a control glyph on it, if you're withholding strawberries like that.

Anyway, Heather's emotional intelligence seems to be advancing by leaps and bounds. Maybe just in this particular situation, being so chronically traumatized herself, she has particular insight and empathy.

Raine gently touched the back of her hand to my cheek. Her fingers were so warm. "Hey, Heather, you're freezing. Let's get you inside, yeah? You know, the house has a couple of actual fireplaces, we could get some wood, light one of them up. I bet you'd love that." She smiled and took my hand in hers, moved to lead me up the steps.

"As long as there's no madwoman in the attic." I let out a little sigh. "I suppose I don't have a choice now, do I?"

Raine cocked an eyebrow at me. "You always have a choice, Heather. Always. You could tell me – right now, right here – to get back in the car, get Evee in with you, and drive out of here. And I'd do it, through the night. I would. If you feel unsafe, if you feel wrong here, I'd do it. I swear."

"Raine, don't be ridiculous."

"You think I'm exaggerating?" she asked, dead serious, and stopped two steps higher than me.

The addition to her already considerable height advantage intimidated me in an obscurely pleasurable way – I ached to tell her so, and stumbled over a response.

"Of course you're not exaggerating, but it's still ridiculous. Why don't you tell me what to do for a change?"

I hoped the darkness would hide the blush in my cheeks. I hadn't meant to say that, and I didn't entirely know what I meant by it.

This is a good point. When it comes to actually asserting herself, Raine's usual MO is to either consult someone else who she thinks will take the position that she wants and then hiding behind their opinion, or to be manipulative.

Her proposing this visit to Evelyn's parents' house, without the idea having come from one of the others, is actually unusual for her. And standing by it under pressure might be hard for her.

...they say that we all grow up to become our parents. I wonder if Evelyn found someone a bit like her father in Raine, in some ways. Only a few ways, but still.

Raine's whole servility thing, whether or not labels like "healthy" or "normal" actually mean anything substantive, is definitely unusual.

On the steps of Evelyn's house, beneath a giant pneuma-somatic spider, was not the place to have this particular conversation. I eyed the giant servitor hanging above us, attached to the side of the house. The size of the thing sent a little animal tremor through my chest, but somehow I couldn't summon any deeper fear of the battered, ancient creature.

This place was done, a long time ago.

"This place was done?" Not sure what that means. Maybe there's a word missing?

EDIT: apparently it’s just British slang for “no longer active.”

"Heather?" A curious grin broke across Raine's face. "Should I be-"

"Besides," I spoke a little too fast, a touch too loud. "This place isn't scary. Not really. Like you said, it's got beautiful architecture."

"Mmmhmm, mmhmm, sure," Raine nodded and eyed me with a quirk to her lips. "Come on, we should get inside. You need to eat something before you conk out, at least."

I wonder if Raine's feelings would change if she could see what Heather could see.

Probably not, but maybe.

I nodded, but turned to look behind me one last time, still hand-in-hand with Raine.

Praem had remained unresponsive amid all this drama, staring out into the darkening garden. At first I thought she was locked in silent communion with the night, and I was going to call for her to follow us, but then I realised something was staring back at her.

That fox again, barely twenty feet away.

It caught wind of my attention, huge vulpine ears swivelling to listen to all the little sounds of the night. It was beautiful, far more beautiful than the house; that sleek pointed face and deep russet fur, the way it locked eyes with me for a skittish heartbeat.

Then it bounded away. Praem turned her head to look at me.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I said, talking about the fox.

"Beautiful," she echoed, her icicle voice lingering on the air.

Hmm. The framing makes me lean toward the fox actually being just a fox, now. We'll see.

Anyway, I think Praem mostly just wants her goddamned strawberries already.

We didn't last two hours until Evelyn went missing.

Raine was correct, Lewis Saye did perk up in record time. His transformation back to gregarious mirth was so fast and so complete that I would have suspected him of sneaking off to pop some pills, but he was around us the whole time for that first hour, not so much as five minutes in the toilet to fortify himself. Evelyn had forged ahead alone, but her father bustled back to the entryway all small talk and big laughter once more, to usher us deeper into his grand echoing shell of a home.

In the short walk from the front door to the main kitchen, the house revealed precious little of itself; from the white plaster and old tile of the entryway nook, we crossed the house's main corridor, a kinked spine with a partial skeleton of exposed dark beams. Shadows lingered in the unlit depths to our left and right. Thick carpets soaked up the sound of our footsteps.

God these metaphors. It's been a little while since Katalepsis had thrown one of these insanely good prose bits at me, but this one makes up for it.~

Lewis Saye was true to his word, he had a wealth of leftovers in his well-stocked fridge. He plied us with pasta reheated in an expensive microwave, fresh crusty bread and newly opened packets of fancy chocolate biscuits.

There was something wrong with that kitchen. Something out of place.

My mind chewed on the problem, as Evelyn brewed in sullen silence at the far end of the wooden table, as Raine dumped our bags on the floor and set about assisting Lewis with the food, much to his obvious discomfort.

"Please, please, do sit down, it won't be a moment, won't be a moment. Neither of you are allergic to anything, are you?" He boomed about, clattering plates and cutlery to fill the silences. "Never can tell these days. No? Healthy young women all of you, then. Double helpings!"

"I'll drink to that," said Raine.

The kitchen didn't feel real – none of this did.

All faux-rustic brick and shiny chrome fittings, thick slab shelves and tan slate flooring. None of it could disguise the tilted set of the walls, the cramped ceiling, the tiny windows. A modern skin over a reality far older and far less grand. Nothing in here looked really used, like the kitchen in a holiday house.. Even the food in the fridge was too neatly wrapped in cling film, no half empty packets of sandwich meat or forgotten bags of cheese.

And there's no sign of servants.

Hmm. Yeah. Kinda seems like Lewis might actually live a more archetypically "depressed widower" lifestyle, but the house is magically self-cleaning enough that there's no sign of that. I wonder if those "leftovers" in the fridge are actually leftovers at all?

I sat down at the table, distracted, and Evelyn met my confused look with a dark frown.

"Why do you look so gormless?" she muttered.

"I … don't feel like we're really here." I shrugged.

"Lucky you."

Her tone could have etched steel.

Hehe, zing.

A few minutes later Lewis was in full swing again, once he'd sat down at the table and I'd worked out the best way to politely phrase my real question, between mouthfuls of lasagna sauce.

"Oh no, I don't do the cleaning myself," he boomed with a grin. "You're quite right, it's far too much house for that. Even if I wasn't such an old brute! Ha! Yes, I have a cleaner in twice a week. Though, of course, there's places she can't go. Of course, you all understand all that. Of course." He waved a hand and smiled with boyish guilt. "The whole east wing is mothballed, in fact, pipes drained, furniture covered. Must keep the property price up, you know? Can't be having it go to seed."

Evelyn snorted at that, picking at her food.

Let me guess, the east wing is actually a giant plant monster disguised as part of the building, and he wasn't being metaphorical?

Her father glanced at her fondly and allowed himself an indulgent chuckle. Perhaps complete tolerance was the only coping mechanism he knew. Had he learnt that from dealing with her mother?

The man did love to talk. I discovered he barely lived here, gathered he was a lawyer by profession, spent more time in London than out here in the ancestral pile – though he'd been the one to marry into it rather than the other way around.

Well, that's a bit better than I thought, in terms of how he's living.

Wonder if he was telling the truth about hiring a cleaner, or if it just genuinely doesn't need one?

He punted easy question after easy question at his daughter. How was university going? How was the Sharrowford house faring? Was she getting any exercise? Did her leg need a replacement yet? All surface level. He didn't even ask how she'd met me.

Evelyn fielded the conversation with monosyllabic disinterest, so Lewis made the effort to include Raine and I, asked what I was studying, where I was from, what my parents did.

What did any of those things matter?

"It's a pity Angeline wasn't down here with me this weekend," he said. "I'm sure she would have loved to see you again, Evelyn. I know, I know, it's a little strange for you, and she can never … um … well, you know. Family and all that."

"Dad."

He blinked. I froze up. It was the first time she'd used that word.

"Yes?"

"I don't even remember who she is," Evelyn growled.

"Oh, oh no, that can't be right. You met her, when I came up to Sharrowford last year." He grinned awkwardly and turned to Raine and I. "My lady friend. She was from another city firm. Rather a bit of drama about all that. A long story."

"I remember her face," Raine said. "Twenty years younger than you, right?"

"No, no! Certainly not!" Lewis blustered and harrumphed, then burst out laughing. "Ten years. I know, I know, I'm a lucky man."

"You old dog," said Raine.

I kept hoping he would launch into questions about goings on in Sharrowford, ask why we were towing a demon around, question how exactly I was 'one of us' – but he didn't. He never asked a single real thing. He dealt with Praem by completely ignoring her.

Pretending we were all normal people.

Your daughter and I spent a night in a pocket dimension full of soul-eating monsters, where we killed an evil wizard. Why is this not important to you?

The sense of unreality grew worse, and I realised it had been lurking there in the back of my head for two weeks. This inane conversation over a bizarre meal was a mere catalyst. Why did I feel like I wasn't really there, in that too-clean kitchen, surrounded by hollow talk?

I should have paid attention to Evelyn, small and shrunken in her seat, staring at nothing. She was hurting. But I didn't belong here.

I belonged Outside, didn't I? With Lozzie.

You know, that thought did occur to me before, when she mentioned the altered sensitivity to cold. If Lozzie had mentioned anything about temperature or tactile sensations before leaving, I would have said something about it at the time.

Then again, why is Lewis' kitchen making her feel this more strongly than anything else on Earth? Maybe it's just another layer of fakeness that helps her realize how "off" everything else has been feeling for her? I think that's it.

As for why this is happening now and not earlier…I'd normally think it possible that the leviathan had something to do with it, but there are a couple of issues with that. For one, Heather has bodily left realspace and visited other planes before, so it's not just a "having tasted the Outside" thing. For another, Lozzie made it very clear that the Leviathan wasn't up to choosing another human to "adopt," and I doubt the story would just have her be totally wrong about this when there was no need to have her even raise the subject in the first place.

It could also be that Heather's use of the self-executing hypermath is causing the change, but I don't think that that's it either. This feeling didn't seem to have started when she was doing her junkyard experiments in the time leading up to the leviathan raid, only after the raid itself, and crushing Alexander was supposedly a simpler and less advanced trick than those other ones that didn't push her as far.

So. My best guess? This is the Carcossa infection at work.

Now, given Katalepsis' ethos, it may turn out that this "infection" is a fairly benign, or even ultimately beneficial, one. But even in that case, there's likely to be risks and rigours involved.

"We shouldn't be here," I said.

After the meal, Lewis had bustled about finding us a spare room suitably near Evelyn's old bedroom. Not that the house lacked for spare rooms. By that point I was flagging hard, dragged down by a belly full of food and a need to curl up and shut the world out. Perhaps if I slept then this feeling would go away.

Up a staircase with two small inset landings, through more corridor of bone-white plaster and dark brown beams. I glimpsed a servitor or two lurking down the hallways of the great house – a spider the same size as the ones back in Sharrowford, and some kind of monitor lizard in a cold fireplace, but they paid me no attention beyond a passing look.

Once Raine and I were alone – Lewis having bustled off somewhere down the corridor – I'd sat, then flopped backward onto a clean white bedspread. We had a double bed in a high-ceilinged room, panelled in dark wood, dim wall lights sculpted as fake candles. Like a room from an early twentieth century detective novel.

Raine had rummaged in our bags for a toothbrush and a change of pajamas, said something inane about how I must be sleepy.

I'd pulled myself back into a sitting position, hunched inside my hoodie with my arms folded, and spoken.

"We shouldn't be here."

Raine raised an eyebrow. There was something dark and smoky about her in the low light, in this antique room. "I meant what I said earlier. The moment you feel unsafe, we can be out of here."

"No, no," I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, partly to clear my mind and summon what scraps of focus I could. "It's not that. Where's Evee gone?"

"Ahh? Her old bedroom, I think. It's just down the end of the corridor." Raine gestured over her shoulder at the half open door, then pulled a sheepish, toothy grin. "Didn't you notice? I tried to go with her, but … " she shrugged.

I gave her the best hard look I could manage.

"Heather?"

I sighed, then set about struggling out of my hoodie. Suddenly it felt constricting. I got it halfway off my head before I felt Raine's hands on my arms, helping me take it off. I shook myself out and smoothed my hair down.

"I know, Evee's having a rough time of it," Raine was saying. "Give her five minutes alone and we should go on a charm offensive, cheer her up a bit, get-"

"A 'rough time of it'?" I echoed – exactly as sharply as I'd intended, puffed up with indignation as I hunched on the bed. "She hates this place. It's hurting her. I can't believe you bullied her into coming here."

Raine laughed it off, my pink hoodie limp in her hands. "Bully Evee? I don't think either of us could bully her into anything."

"You did, Raine. How can't you see it? It's like forcing me to go back to Cygnet hospital for a scenic weekend."

"She … " Raine glanced away from me, her smile flickering. "She needs to face it. It's therapeutic."

"Raine! That's not your decision to make!"

"Ahh … I mean … yeah. I … "

I can see it either way. If this house actually has a device in it that can potentially help them rescue Maisie, it can't be relocated to Sharrowford, and they can't use it without Evelyn, then I think Evelyn had to bite the bullet here, and nothing Raine said to either of the others to convince her to do it was over the line. If any of those things aren't true (and Raine knew or even suspected that they weren't true), then yeah, pretty fucked up.

It hit me the split-second before Raine crumpled, before she let out a huge sigh and slid down with her back against the wall until she was sitting on the floor, face in her hands – I'd never seen her so conflicted, never seen her struggle like this. I could barely believe the impact of my own words.

"R-Raine?"

"Ahhhhh shit. I've been a right fucking dick, haven't I? I've really fucking messed up this time."

"Raine? It's okay, it's not the end of the world, we can- A-are you okay?"

She looked up with a sad smile, defeated but not broken, and raised both hands in surrender. "I'm fine, I'm fine. You're completely right. It wasn't my decision to make, and I've … really hurt Evee this time. And now you think I'm a nasty bitch too," she gestured at me and puffed out a mirthless laugh. "Bang up job, Raine old girl. Well fucking done. Can't even pull off protecting you two without screwing up."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, that rich chestnut hair, a few errant locks standing up in bold loops.

I'd never seen Raine vulnerable before, not really; with the strange alchemy that lay in the junction between emotional distress and sexual attraction, I suddenly wanted to get up and go over to her.

She wasn't doing it intentionally. I don't believe she was aware of the effect.

Granted, with Raine's skill at manipulation, this *could* still be performance.

I don't think it is, but it could be.

I shook my head, trying to concentrate. "Raine, I don't follow. Protecting … ?"

Raine gestured vaguely, at the house around us. "An old magical fortress. One of the safest places in the whole country."

"Not for Evee, it isn't. Raine, you … you … " Realisation dawned with a sudden click. "Wait, is that why we're here?"

Raine dipped her head, an instinctive bob of pleading for forgiveness.

"That's why we're here," I said. "Oh my God. Raine."

"I may have been economical with the truth," she said.

"You thought the Sharrowford Cult was going to attack the house!"

"Maybe."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"If I'm right," she continued, "then the house gets hit, the spiders deal with it, and none of us get hurt – not you, not Evee. Maybe she has to spend a few hundred pounds on a new front door, but that would be the worst of it. If I'm wrong, then hey, we needed to do this trip sooner or later anyway. You have to see that map if we're ever going to rescue your sister. We can leave tomorrow, I promise."

"Why … " I swallowed, my throat dry, but Raine already knew the question. Why lie?

"I never would have gotten Evee out of Sharrowford. If I'd said I thought the cult might come for the house, she'd have boarded the windows and barricaded the door. You know how she is. Hell, I get the feeling you know her better than I do, these days. We both love her for it, don't get me wrong, but she's stubborn as an ox."

"You- you didn't have to-"

"I'm sorry," she said, and I saw a tightness around her eyes. "I know, I'm a shit, but I have to keep you safe. Both of you. And I'm not doing a very good job of it lately."

"What? Of course you are. Raine, I'm angry because you lied, not because I think you make a poor protector. For pity's sake, I watched you shoot in a man in the head for us."

"That doesn't count for much."

"Of course it does, don't be absurd," I hissed.

"After that woman in the library … all I could think about is how I wasn't there. She could have done anything to you, and I wasn't there. Blind luck that she wanted to talk. I wasn't there, Heather, I wasn't at your side. I wasn't there for you in that castle. We got separated, and you were alone. I wasn't there for you when that bitch of a zombie tried to snatch you again. I wasn't there. I had to lie to get you two out of the house, out of Sharrowford, just for a few days. And I would do it again. I'm sorry. This is me." She shrugged.

Hmmmmmmm.

On one hand...I can see Raine's rationale. I can see why, after the way the library incident played out, with Amy finding Heather alone at first and it taking a minute before Raine realized it, Raine would be justifiably paranoid and decide Sharrowford isn't safe.

On the other hand...well, two things.

First, as I said before; if Edward wanted to attack them, he'd have done it already.

Second; if Edward really is planning an attack, how long will it take for Raine to decide he's forgotten about them? You can't spend the rest of your life in hiding because someone *might* be coming after you *someday.*

So, in light of those factors, I think Raine is thinking with her ego here. She failed to be a consummate protector, and had to salve it by making a big performative move that doesn't really hold up to tactical scrutiny. Which, considering what this means for Evelyn emotionally...yeah, kinda fucked up.

Then again, they also have limited time to rescue Maisie. And if they can use the device in this house to expedite her rescue, then, as I said earlier, they shouldn't need any extra excuses to get over here and use it.

The intensity in her words, the passion, the iron-hot conviction; I felt myself shiver, and not in a bad way.

My lover had lied by omission. I should have felt hurt, betrayed, insecure – instead I was turned on by her justifications. This was vastly unhealthy, and I couldn't make myself care, because I wanted to feel turned on.

Vastly unhealthy. Story of my life.

On one hand, the determination, devotion, and ruthlessness have always been part of what attracted Heather to Raine.

On the other...adding "being lied to" to the list of things that turn Heather on has incredible meme value.

"You … " I stumbled over a response. My words felt limp. "You could have told me the real reason, at least."

Raine shook her head gently. "I would have been asking you to lie to Evee, and I can't make you do that. This fuck up is my responsibility."

"No, it's not," I hissed. "Killing for me – fine. Lying for me? No, never."

Raine blinked in surprise, as if she hadn't expected that. Truth be told, neither had I, and I was too caught between irritation and arousal to consider the implications of my words. Raine nodded, puffed out a humourless laugh and smiled at me.

Say what now, Heather?

Not gonna lie, that's actually a really fucked up set of morals. Worse than any of the stuff about Raine that you've been agonizing over.

"I'm sorry, Heather. You've been so stressed, ever since we came back from that weird castle place. Like you've been ill, or at one remove from everything. I didn't want to stress you out any more than you already-"

"Is this why you haven't been screwing me?"

Raine slammed to a halt.

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. We had more important things to think about – not least, whatever pit Evelyn was stewing in, all alone – but I couldn't help myself. A hot blush rose in my cheeks. I forced myself to stare at Raine.

"I- Heather?" Her distress lifted just a fraction, a grin edging back onto her lips.

"Oh God, it felt good to say that. That's the most real thing I've said in days." Suddenly I hiccuped. "So? You've been handling me like I'm a dying swan." Another hiccup.

"We've … I mean … we have-" Now she couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"Not in the good way." Hiccup.

"The 'good way'?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know exactly what I mean. Don't pretend otherwise."

She spread her hands in a shrug. "You want me to pin you to that bed and hold you there for an hour?"

Oh, damn her, that grin made my stomach flutter – that was more like it, that's what I'd needed for weeks. This was real. With every second that passed, the bubble of unreality deflated further, and I felt more human again, less cold-blooded.

I gave her a bit of a look – more to cover up the pressure of my volcanic arousal than to tell her off for flirting.

"Come on, Heather. Yes or no?"

"Yes, obviously yes. You know that." I shook my head in a vain effort to clear the pink mist, and hiccuped again. "Raine, I haven't … haven't felt completely human since whatever I did to kill Alexander. Since Lozzie left. Like I'm still there in that castle, in that moment I killed him. It's always there. And I'm always cold."

Raine wiped the teasing sexual mirth off her face instantly. She got up from the floor and crossed to the bed, sitting next to me without a trace of her former distress. She reached out, a silent question in her eyes. I answered with a little nod, and she stroked my head.

"You're right here, Heather. You feel that way because it was a traumatic night, and you made a difficult decision. You're right here. I promise."

"Then why haven't you been … " I averted my eyes, blushing again. Courage had fled me.

Raine smiled. "I got it wrong. I misjudged all your signals. I thought you were feeling fragile, needed a gentle touch. You need the opposite?"

I nodded, deeply embarrassed, biting my lower lip.

"It'll make me feel more human," I said in a tiny voice.

"Sure thing," Raine purred.

Haha, okay, well played, story. Heather really did have me thinking she was getting brainzapped by the King In Yellow instead of just dealing with normal trauma and being given a convenient supernatural explanation for the symptoms to latch onto.

…watch as it turns out Heather and I are both wrong now, and it really has been the Carcossa infovirus making her feel cold and dissociated heh.

"Not right now though," I managed, then swallowed. "We need to talk to Evee, tell her the truth."

"That's gonna sting." Raine winced and sat back. "No less than I deserve, I suppose. It'll have to be a proper apology. I'll have to fetch my genuflection mat, flatten my forehead a bit."

No need. Your forehead will get flattened all on its own when Evelyn throws her leg at it.

"We could have left her in Sharrowford with Twil for three days. That might have been therapeutic for her."

Raine smirked – back to normal. "What, getting her laid?"

"O-obviously."

Oh my god.

Raine, you've done it. For all the failings you've just exposed, you've also succeeded.

You have led Heather down the noble pink path. You have ushered her with you along the Way of the Stacey.

"I still think you're off the mark there. Twil's not into her."

Ah, okay then. Noted.

I held out a hand for my hoodie. "Here, give me that back, please. I feel cold without it."

Raine did one better than that, she helped me wriggle back into the fuzzy enclosing warmth of the hoodie, pulling it down over my body and sneaking her hands up inside. I squeaked and squirmed and felt myself flush. The little physical rituals of disarmament after a brush with conflict escalated too quickly. Raine got one knee between my thighs and suddenly I was on my back on the bed and-

Praem chose that exact moment to push the door open and step into the room.

Raine and I sat up and parted, brushing hair back into place, like guilty teenagers caught necking. As if Praem cared. I hadn't realised how close we'd gotten, how flushed my face was, how we'd been inches away from grabbing at each other.

"Hey there, doll-face, what's up?" Raine asked, including me in a curious look. I shrugged.

"Where are my fucking strawberries?"

Praem stopped two steps into the room, facing us. To my surprise she actually made eye contact – or what passed for eye contact when one didn't posses pupils.

"I have lost Evelyn," she announced, voice like a tone struck from a wall of ice.

"What? What does that mean?" I blurted out.

"It just means Evee's wandered off," Raine said, frowning at the demon as she stood up. "I'll go find her."

"We'll both go find her. I could do with a little walk."

"Walked for fifteen minutes," Praem interrupted. Her head adjusted to regard me. "I have lost Evelyn."

And Evelyn is the one with the strawberries. I understand your predicament.

Anyway, unless Praem has some kind of built-in "locate Evelyn" feature, walking around in an unfamiliar environment for fifteen minutes doesn't mean much.

Raine and I shared another look.

"Praem just doesn't know the house, that's all," Raine said slowly. Her frown gave the lie to her words. "She's like a dog in a building that used to have lots of bigger dogs living in it, so many strange lingering smells everywhere that scream 'threat' – but no actual threats."

"Implying I am afraid," Praem intoned.

She did not sound impressed.

Oh my god Praem does the greentext >implications she actually is an internet troll in sex golem form holy shit lol.


Anyway, that's 5.2. How do you guys feel about 5.3? I feel pretty good about 5.3. Let's read 5.3.

5.3​

The first and most obvious place to check for Evelyn was in her old bedroom.

Praem trailed behind as we made our way down the twisty, cramped hallway, and I found myself hoping that she'd merely gotten confused. Perhaps the house had befuddled her inhuman senses in some obscure fashion. Perhaps we'd find Evelyn sitting right in plain view, death-glaring at us and ready for a nasty argument. Raine would apologise to her, and that was going to be messy, we had some serious issues to work through, but she would be right there. She had not gone missing. The alternative did not bear thinking about.

"Evee? S'just us," Raine called, knocking before she opened the door, a slab of polished wood with creaky hinges. "Evee? No Evee. Under the bed? No? Worth a shot."

I followed her in, and put an involuntary hand up to my mouth.

"Her bag's still here," Raine was saying. "And, yup, here's her phone, so I guess we won't be calling her. Hey, hey, Heather." Raine must have caught the look on my face. "There's nothing to worry about. She's probably gone back to the kitchen, scarfing down comfort food, or stepped out to clear her head. We'll find her in minutes, okay? Come on." She offered me her hand.

Yeah, I'm sure it's just like the last time she disappeared and left her phone and shoes behind. Awfully nice of her to go check in on that cultist and see how he's integrating into fleaman society.

"Raine, look at this room."

"Ahh?"

"This isn't a childhood home for her. Not even one full of terrible memories. This is an open wound."

Evelyn's bedroom – her childhood bedroom – was like a little girl's princess fantasy. A regular sized sitting room could fit in here quite comfortably. Heavy curtains veiled a pair of deep windows, three spindly chairs ringed a little oaken table, and a huge vanity mirror and double bed dominated the far wall.

The room had been gutted.

I'd seen the effect on a much lesser scale, in my own bedroom at home on the last day before I'd left for university. Treasured possessions missing from their customary places, practical necessities removed, empty gaps instead of living memory.

The bed lacked sheets, a chest of drawers stood open and empty of clothes – except a lonely pair of mismatched socks – and the walls showed dark rectangles where posters had once occluded the light. A low bookcase held only a dictionary and a copy of The Lord of the Rings, rumpled as if tossed down in disgust. I could picture the spots where Evelyn would have stacked soft toys, the way she would have piled the bed with quilts and pillows, the enclosing comfort so evident in her room back in the Sharrowford house. This place felt anonymous, nothing of her in here.

Raine gave me a pained smiled. "Yeah, yeah I know. I helped her strip the place out. Never thought we'd have to come back."

"It's horrible. Raine, she can't stay in here."

Raine nodded and puffed out a slow sigh. "Maybe she went to get some bedsheets?"

I gave her a capital-L look.

"Yeah." Raine cleared her throat. "Probs' not."

==

Over the next half hour I came to know the Saye family mansion, as one might know an intricate and broken torture device, designed by a sadistic genius.

A simple inventory of the house might look perfectly sane on paper – x number of bedrooms, y number of bathrooms, one grand dining room and so on – but could never do justice to the way the snaking corridors kinked in on themselves as if built around the rooms.

Let's just hope that Evelyn's mom's pet human-faced rat isn't still slinking around here someplace.

Old darkness had saturated the beams and corners down the centuries, lurking in the back of brick fireplaces and underneath heavy wooden furniture, never fully retreating each time Raine slapped about for a light switch on the walls. Blind corners and shadowy recesses were always sneaking up on the unwary explorer – that would be me.

"Old darkness had saturated the beams and corners." God, these lines, these lines!

Many rooms joined to others via side doors and little cubby closets. Other than an obvious effort to fight back the dust, most of them looked as if they'd been left untidy for years. Cushions discarded haphazardly, furniture pushed back in strange configurations, beds hastily stripped with the sheets still in piles on the floor. One room struck me as particularly ominous; a side-door had been barricaded with a pair of upturned chairs, long ago left to gather dust.

Guess those servitors haven't been dusting. Or at least, haven't been dusting very well.

Sounds like that one room has an optional miniboss guarding a useful but nonessential item.

We peered into empty sitting rooms with cracked leather sofas, and wandered the circumference of a great dining table in a hall with tall windows and tarnished silverware on the sideboards. We wormed our way back to the kitchen and peeked out into a re-purposed utility room, with a little walled-off outdoor courtyard for the bins. We found a locked study where Raine peered through the keyhole. We heard Lewis singing in the bath, and assumed Evelyn was not in there listening to her father butchering Bohemian Rhapsody.

I would ruin Bohemian Rhapsody in the shower with you if you were my dad, Lewis.~

We also passed several tired, listless servitors, hibernating things wound down and curled up, their orders long forgotten.

Ah. These would be the dusters, I'm guessing.

I wonder what the process for creating these things is? If Evelyn's mother had this many, and they have limited lifespans without maintenance, then I doubt they could each be handmade.

I'd thought I loved old buildings, such venerable beauty from a different age. This mansion was the exception which proved the rule, cold and vast, too much akin to an impersonal concrete box on a larger scale. The house told me that my tiny flickering life could never fill this void.

I couldn't think of this as Evelyn's home. That honour belonged to the house in Sharrowford.

"What if we don't find her?" I asked as we retraced our steps along the ground floor's main spinal corridor, my voice an unbidden whisper. "The last time Evelyn went missing, she got lost in another dimension."

Raine shook her head and shot me one of her easy confident smiles. "She'll be around here somewhere, might be hiding from us though. This old hulk sure is a good place to play hide and seek, full of nooks and crannies. We might be at this for a while yet. You holding up okay, wanna go sit down?"

"What if she's hurt herself?"

"On purpose? She'd never do that, not our Evee."

"Raine, she self-harms constantly. It might not be razor blade marks on her wrists, but the way she punishes herself is just as real."

Raine paused with an oddly thoughtful frown, then nodded. "Yeah, yeah there's places she could go here that would mess with her head. We should check out the mothballed wing, that's where her mother used to keep all the hocus pocus, but I asked Lewis and he told me it was all locked up. Here, back this way."

Creeping around dark corridors together had smothered my earlier arousal, given me time to watch Raine and think uncomfortable thoughts.

Raine had lied to me.

She'd lied to Evelyn and I, manipulated us – yes, ostensibly for our own safety, in her self-appointed role as bodyguard, and I did believe that justification. Or at least I believed that she believed.

I couldn't help how that had turned me on, made me feel safe, made me feel right. Even thinking about it now I felt a little shiver of attraction. Raine's elemental nature pressed all my sexual buttons, buried my anger and frustration under a tidal wave of arousal. She hadn't even meant to do it.

From the first day I'd met her, I'd let Raine get away with so much, because she was hot and she liked me and her unhealthy behaviour made me feel good.

Sooner or later I was going to have to deal with the realities of being desperately head-over-heels in love with a sociopath.

Now that we're back on the "what exactly is Raine's deal" topic; while I still don't think she meets the description of sociopath that Heather keeps giving her, I wonder if she might have some version of Borderline Personality Disorder. I'm not a psychologist, but "irrational fear of abandonment" is a plausible explanation for a lot of her stranger and more problematic traits.

Granted, this being a catalogued "disorder" doesn't necessarily mean anything through the naturalistic or cosmicist lens. But if I'm right about what her deal is, then she's probably suffering herself because of this, in which case yeah, treatment would be a good idea.

Praem wasn't reassuring company right now either. She'd lapsed back into her habitual silence, lurking a dozen paces behind Raine and I. Several times she'd made me jump when I'd turned around and she'd been standing there in the shadows, staring at nothing. At least she was easy on the eyes. I could ogle her chest through her jumper all day long and at least she wouldn't try to manipulate me.

Ahahahahaha.

"Heather?" Raine called.

"Mm?"

I turned away from the voluptuous doll-demon. I'd gotten distracted, as Raine had pulled ahead a few paces.

"She say something?" Raine asked.

"No, sorry. I was just admiring the view. So to speak."

Raine quirked an eyebrow in surprise, and I felt a sudden blush colour my cheeks. Oh dear, I had actually said that out loud, hadn't I?

"W-what?" I tried to meet Raine's amazement with smoldering indignation – and the feeling came far too easily. "I can't look at her? I'm sure you must do, on occasion."

Oh no, oh Heather, what are you doing?

Baiting your girlfriend into an argument, because you're angry and can't express yourself properly, because an argument with Raine is a hundred times easier than dealing with how Evelyn has vanished into her ancient crumbling ancestral home full of exhausted spirit life and the wreckage of her family.

Let's have it out, Raine, right here in the middle of this absurd old house with my best friend missing and a demon watching us. Let's have a blazing row about sexual attraction and basic respect and I'll break down at you for lying to me and you'll try to win me back by screwing my tiny stupid brains out but I'll shout at you before you get the chance and-

Raine laughed.

"Course you can look at her. She doesn't give a damn, and her jugs are out of this world." Raine grinned, cheeky and confident and a little dirty. The sort of grin that made me melt. It faded when I failed to laugh at her joke. "It's just, you know, you never say stuff like that. You're horned up real bad, aren't you?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"Ah." Raine swallowed and dipped her head. "Right, yeah, you've got every right to be mad at me."

Everyone except Evelyn is so self-aware.

Refreshingly different from how most fantasy characters are written.

"I'm-" Not mad? I looked down at my feet and crossed my arms, so I could tell the truth. "I am mad. And aroused, and pent up. And worried and hurt. I want you to not lie to me ever again."

Raine took a step closer, in my peripheral vision. "I can't make that promise. You know I'd only lie to you to get you out of harm's way."

"And I hate that I'm okay with that," I hissed.

"Do you hate me?"

Not a shred of accusation in her voice. No bitterness, no uncertain tremor. We'd shared each other for months now and she was utterly unafraid of rejection. How did she do it? She took another step closer.

Either Raine is really good at masking in situations like this, or I was wrong about what her deal is. BPD sufferers usually freak out or deflect or shut the conversation down in confrontations like this.

"Don't be stupid," I said to her feet. "I'm in love with you. I just wish … "

"Wish what?" Raine murmured, and touched her fingertips to my folded arms.

I pulled away.

"Don't. You'll turn me on again and I'll forget what I'm trying to say. You want to be my protector? Well then. Oh dammit," I snapped, as much at myself as at Raine. "Are we really having this talk right now, with Evee missing, in a dark corridor in the spookiest house ever? Raine, if you want to be my protector, then you may need to protect me from aspects of yourself. You need to never lie to me again."

I forced myself to look up and meet Raine's eyes – a mistake. Deep, rich brown, always so expressive and intelligent, and right now creased with such confused conflict.

She almost shattered my hastily constructed defences with a mere shake of her head.

"Heather, I never meant-"

"And don't say it was to keep me safe, because I like it when you say that, it makes me feel good, and I don't want to feel good about you lying to me. You can't do that to me, Raine."

Raine drew herself up with a deep sigh and closed her eyes, as if cleansing herself, and suddenly I was the one wracked by fear of rejection.

Was this what Evelyn had warned me about, so many weeks ago?

My mind raced a hundred miles an hour. Of course Raine was going to lose interest sooner or later. Look at me, small and scrawny and weird, compared to this amazonian beauty, the simplest of my emotions tied up in knots in front of her blazing clarity of purpose. If I wouldn't serve those purposes, she'd move on, as soon as all my complaints could no longer be drowned out with sex.

I did my best to harden my heart.

I did not do a very good job.

"You're right," Raine said, eyes still closed. "You are completely right, Heather. Yeah, I know I'm not very good at seeing these things. Promises don't mean much if they're easy to keep, so-" She opened her eyes and juddered to a halt at the sight of me. "Heather? Woah, woah, Heather, it's okay, you-"

"Finish what you were saying," I managed to squeak.

"Are you-"

"Finish!"

"Sure thing, boss," she almost laughed, amusement covering her concern. God, I loved the way she could laugh anything off, even when it infuriated me. "It's a difficult promise, but a promise I have to try – I'll never lie to you again. Even to protect you. Might have to make some forced tactical errors, but you're right, you're more important than that. I'm kind of a fucking idiot that you had to explain that to me. Some philosopher I am."

I nodded. Had to look away from her.

That certainly went better than expected.

You know, we've been told by both Evelyn and Raine that Raine can't resist a damsel in distress. However, neither of them have said that that's the only thing she ever goes for. And I mean...Heather is unique and interesting enough - even just on account of her powers and perceptions, before getting into anything more personal - that I think most people whose tastes don't normally include her would make an exception.

Once again, impressive self-awareness for this pair of early twenty-somethings, even if they still have blind spots.

Also, I think that what they really need is to find a genuine princess to dom the fuck out of together.

"Heather? You really look like you need a hug right now. Can I?"

"You may," I whispered.

Raine wrapped her arms around me and I buried my face in her shoulder. Oh, that was better. That was much better. Silly, paranoid Heather; Raine was an impossible sociopath, but sometimes it was easy to forget she had chosen me, even if I didn't understand her reasons. She rubbed my back in muscle-melting circles. Neither of us spoke for a long moment. I listened to her heartbeat.

"Thought you were about to break up with me," I eventually croaked.

"What? No fucking way. Oh Heather, I'm still kind of a mystery to you, aren't I?"

"I suppose you are." I managed a little shrug.

You know we still don't know anything about Raine's background, aside from her being a runaway. Maybe we're about to get some detail, at last?

We let go of each other after another moment of shared comfort, but Raine made a point of holding my hand and ruffling my hair. I sniffed and nodded at her smile, and then she raised her eyes past me.

"Hey Praem," Raine said. "Sorry for all the drama."

How embarrassing, to have an audience for such a personal moment. At least Praem wasn't capable of caring.

"I am capable of caring, but I know better than to do it."

I glanced over my shoulder at the doll-demon – and found, to my incredible surprise, that Praem's milky white eyes were creased by a subtle tightness. She stared for a heartbeat, then spoke.

"Find. Evelyn."

" … is she pissed off with us?" Raine asked.

"I think she is. I'm sorry, Praem. And also she's right, we do need to find Evelyn. I can't believe we stopped to have a miniature relationship crisis in the middle of all this." I rolled my eyes to gesture at the absurdity of the house all around us.

"She. Has. My. Fucking. STRAWBERRIES."

"Right you are then." Raine rolled her shoulders. Always a good sign.

"You have a fresh idea?"

"Smart money says she's either gone out to the car, in protest, or she's hiding, maybe pressured her dad into unlocking the east wing. We'll check out the front first, then go find Lewis. He's probably done with his bath now. We'll just have to hope we don't get an eyeful of naked old man."

"Ew."

"Come on." Raine grinned at me and turned to set off.

I glanced back at Praem one more time. "Do you have suggestions … for … "

Praem did not have any suggestions, but perhaps she would have if I'd been able to finish the question.

A fox was sitting behind her.

Right in the middle of the corridor, those cute little black-furred paws pressed neatly into the carpet, golden eyes glinting in the gloom. We made eye contact; I froze in shock.

A tug on my hand, Raine attempting to lead me onward. Suddenly the fox stood up, twitched its ears, and raced away down the corridor on silent paws. It slipped around a corner, a flash of russet in the dark.

Oooo-kay.

That fox is NOT just a fox, then.

...or maybe it is, but Praem has some kind of animal empathy power that she's fixated on it.

...or maybe it *was,* but Evelyn replaced its brain with a control implant last night.

Too many possibilities.

"Heather? You getting one more dose of Praem's rack?"

"No! No, Raine, didn't you see that?"

Raine shook her head, eyes flicking down the corridor on instant high alert. "A spirit?"

"No. It was a fox, it was normal. It just … Raine, where does that hallway lead, around that corner?"

Oh.

Damn.

If the fox is actually a pneuma-somatic entity, that would...wow...yeah.

That would actually be the best way to get a bead on Heather and Co, if you were a wizard enemy. Customize a servitor to look like a mundane bird or cat or something. Only Heather would be able to see it, and she would never consider it suspicious because she wouldn’t know it was pneuma-somatic. Granted, you'd need to know a lot of details about their abilities to do this, but it's a thought.

Anyway, the fox might be a deceptively normal-looking PS entity, or it may be in realspace and just ensorcelled or glamoured or whatever.

"That way? Couple of connecting rooms between the two wings. All the stuff on the far side'll be locked though, Evee wouldn't- oh."

"Oh? Oh? Don't 'oh' at me and stop."

Raine shot me a pained smile. "Oh as in 'oh shit'. I know exactly where Evee is. Come on."

I struggled to keep up, even hand in hand. Raine's stride threatened to break into a run, though we walked less than fifty feet. Hurrying down the side corridor where the fox had vanished, thinner and more claustrophobic than the main spine, we climbed a small set of stairs. Raine paused with a sharp frown at a trio of doors. I gulped down air to get my breath back.

"Where is she? Raine, where are we going?"

"This uh, reading room thing. Place. I should have known, but she hasn't been back there, ever." Raine remembered the correct door, grabbed the handle, and led me through.

A short stub of corridor, with only one door at the far end. Raine let go of my hand and raced ahead. She burst through the door all in a rush, raising her voice. "Evee? Evee, it's us. Evelyn?"

I crept in behind her, my heart in my throat.

Reading room, right; Raine did display an occasional talent for understatement.

We'd emerged through a side-door into a space more akin to a library hall or great viewing chamber, or the study of a master inventor from the age of discovery. The vast room occupied both floors of this part of the mansion. The upper floor formed a wide walkway around three walls, ringed with meticulously organised bookcases, reached by a staircase at one end. The echoing space was poorly lit by wall sconces, half the bulbs burnt out or missing. A pair of free-standing lamps put up a valiant defence against the oppressive gloom. The towering curtains were caked in old dust.

All dark heavy polished wood, several tables and desks stood at different points around the room's bare floorboards as if for separate projects, stacked with all manner of bric-a-brac in a state of terrible disarray: disassembled electronics, a half finished oil-paint canvas of a landscape scene, an entire deer skeleton laid out bone by bone, a series of anatomical specimen jars filled with cloudy liquid, a set of grotesque clay statues of worms with wings and teeth, and a half-dozen other mysteries too complex to take in at a glance.

One table was on its side, contents strewn across the floor. It had been that way for a long time. Dust covered every surface, including the floor, except for a single pair of dragging footprints and the trail of a walking stick.

A part of one wall was cracked and cratered, the plaster scorched black around the edges, the damage blurred by time and dust.

Evelyn was sitting in a chair, hunched over with her chin in her hands.

She'd been staring at the old scorch mark, but she looked up as Raine and I blundered into the room. Even before she opened her mouth, even with that thunderous frown on her face, relief flooded my chest.

"Evee!" I said.

"Stop shouting, the pair of you," she snapped. "My ears work perfectly well."

Raine sighed through a smile, relief plain as she shook her head.

"What?" Evelyn demanded.

"Evee, are you okay?" Raine asked.

Evelyn pulled a face as if Raine had suggested she take up molesting animals. She glanced at me. "What have you been doing to her now? Are you both high on mushrooms? What an utterly idiotic question. Do I seem alright? You tell me."

"Of course you don't seem alright," I said before Raine could put her foot in her mouth. "Praem couldn't find you, we were so worried. I-I thought maybe you'd- I don't know. I was worried about you, Evee."

Evelyn snorted and looked away.

"Wow. Well. This sure is the last place I'd think of to look for you," Raine said, as she crossed to the nearest of the heavy old desks and cast an odd look around the room, at the scorched crater Evelyn had been sitting and staring at. I realised there was a huge stain on the floorboards nearby, a years old splatter that had stripped the polish and warped the wood. Two more scorch marks, like meteor trails, had chewed into the floor not far away. "What on earth are you doing in here, Evee?"

"Sitting down," Evelyn drawled. "To enjoy my holiday."

Ah, the scene of the battle. And of the death.

Lewis still can't bring himself to clean up after it.

Raine dipped her head in silent apology. Evelyn frowned at her like she'd gone mad.

"Is this where it happened?" I asked softly. They both looked at me, Raine with a frozen wince and Evelyn with deep shadows in her eyes. "I apologise for asking, but under the circumstances I think it's better to have it in the open. This is where your mother died, isn't it?"

Evelyn nodded and made a grumbly throat-clearing noise. She followed my awed glance at the cratered wall. "Not there. That was where she tried to stop me."

Well thank god Evelyn madethatreflex save, geez.

What on earth could one say to that? 'I see', or 'I'm sorry', or some other useless platitude? None of that would help Evelyn.

"Why hasn't any of this been cleaned up?" I asked instead.

"Nobody's set foot in here since."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be sitting alone in the room where your abusive mother died. If you want to sit here, I'll pull up a chair too."

Evelyn looked like she wanted to slap me for that one. I didn't blame her, and I'd take it too. Some wounds never close.

Praem chose that moment to join us, crossing the room to stand next to Evelyn's chair, prim and proper and very straight-backed indeed. Evelyn eyed her with open suspicion, until Praem turned her head to meet her mistress' gaze.

"You required help," Praem intoned.

"Shut up. Not another word. God dammit, I specifically told you not to … " Evelyn trailed off in barely contained frustration, with a telltale guilty glance at Raine and I.

"Wait a moment," I said. "Did she lie to us? Praem, did you know where Evelyn was this whole time?"

Raine raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. "Clever girl. Very impressive. She found a way around your orders, Evee."

"She's getting worse," Evelyn hissed. "Should never have made her."

"Evelyn," I said. "She saw you were in pain and went for help. That's not evil voodoo zombie territory, not at all. Thank you, Praem. Was that you, with the fox back there?"

Praem turned to stare at me, in silence.

"What fox?" Evelyn asked. "What's she done now?"

"Back in the corridor?" Raine asked. "Heather saw something, I thought it was a spirit, and then I worked out you'd come here."

"I-" I struggled to phrase the words. It hadn't looked anything like a spirit. "Sort of, I don't know. Praem?"

Evelyn slapped Praem in the leg with her walking stick. "Answer."

"Not I," Praem said, icicle cold.

Evelyn shrugged with shoulders and eyebrows, more than a little unimpressed.

"Did you see a fox come through here?" I asked her.

"A fox."

"I'm serious. Evee, don't look at me like that, stupid things happen to us all the time. Woodland creatures walking through walls is relatively minor compared to half the things I've seen since I met you two. Yes, I turned around to ask Praem if she had any ideas about where you might be, and I saw a fox in the corridor. It went around a corner, and technically it led us to you. Is there any reason there would be a magical fox in here?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes and spread her hands. She couldn't have looked more exasperated if I'd enquired as to whether bears defecated in the woods. "This place is lousy with magical echoes and leftovers. It could have been anything. A pneuma-somatic fart."

"Okay, good. Thank you. I'm sorry for snapping." I swallowed and felt a little sheepish.

"Could Praem be telling another porky?" Raine asked.

"Truth," Evelyn snapped her fingers.

"Not I," the demon-doll repeated.

"It was probably just a spirit." I was trying to convince myself as much as my friends. "I'm not used to them looking like real animals. That's never happened before."

"Hey, maybe Lozzie sent it," Raine suggested. I demurred with a silent frown; I'd love that, but it seemed unlikely.

If Praem is capable of disobeying orders like that, why didn't she just tell Heather and Raine where to go? Maybe she's not just styling herself after Evelyn. Maybe she's also styling herself after Raine. Or this is just her love of fucking with people reconciling with her mandate to protect her summoner.

Not sure what to think about the fox at this point.

"Yes, that would be all we need, wouldn't it?" Evelyn grumbled, venom in her voice. "More unexplained visitations from your mysterious friend. Let's complicate matters as much as possible, shall we? Raine can seduce my father's latest romantic prospect, and I'll go play with my mother's unfinished work."

Hey, Heather's mom is on the list ahead of Lewis' girlfriend!

I let it wash over me. Evelyn was in a kind of pain neither of us could share, and we needed to make this right.

"Evee," I said with a meaningful glance at my girlfriend. "Raine has something she needs to tell you."

Raine cleared her throat and straightened up. Evelyn's frown thundered back onto her face.

"Oh no, don't tell me you two have decided to get fucking married?"

"What? N-no. Evee, no, it's nothing to do-" I halted, blushing. "Raine, stop grinning, you're meant to be apologising to her."

Huh. Did Raine actually like the sound of that?

Maybe just amused at the prospect of her ever settling down. That's more likely.

"Yes, yes, ahem. Evee, Evelyn, I've lied to you about something. To you and Heather. She figured it out, and made me realise I owe you an apology, because I'm a shit and I've hurt you. I … I think the Sharrowford Cult was about to hit the house, so I lied to get you and Heather out of the city for a week. I'm sorry. It's my fault you're here, dealing with this." She gestured at the echoing hall all around us. "We'll leave tomorrow, we'll get out. I've been a dickhead."

Evelyn listened with a raised eyebrow until Raine was done. "Repeat that last part."

"I've been a dickhead?"

"Again."

"I'm a huge dickhead."

"Mm, you are." Evelyn allowed herself a thin smile. "But you're also not half as clever as you think. It's not a very good lie if I see through it before you finish telling it."

"You knew?" I asked, gaping at her.

"Of course I bloody well knew." Evelyn shot me an incredulous look. "You didn't? Raine's awful at lying. One of the few things that makes her tolerable."

"Ow," said Raine.

"I thought she bullied you into coming."

Evelyn scoffed. "Not likely."

"So I'm the only one who didn't know. Lovely."

"I assumed we were all in on it," Evelyn grumbled, then shot Raine a look. "You must be armpit deep in the doghouse."

"Evee," Raine tried to stay on course. "You're my best friend, and Heather made me realise that maybe I'm jeopardising that, regardless of our history."

I'm not sure if Evelyn actuallyknew, but she probably suspected at least. I still think it's a dumb move, but that's neither here nor there.

They ARE going to use the dimensional cartography device though, right?Pleasetell me that thing wasn't just a total fabrication.

Evelyn gave her a long, silent look. "You get points for fessing up. Barely." She sighed as if letting go of something, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know, Heather, she never would have apologised in the past. She'd just have lied and moved on. And no, I don't want to fucking be here, but you didn't bully me into it. The filth in Sharrowford are broken, I accept that, they won't touch my territory again. I came because I owe Heather a proper look at the map." She cracked her eyes open and shot a bitter, sidelong glance at me as she spoke. "What the hell are we doing back here, Raine? I waited years to get out of this Godforsaken hole."

"Like I said, we can leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's too far away," I said, and made a snap decision. "Evee, you're sleeping in the same room as us tonight. Not in your old bedroom. I saw it, and just, no. I won't let you. I'll sleep in an armchair, you and Raine can have separate sheets on the bed."

"Don't be-"

"Evelyn Saye, you are not spending this night alone."

Evee blinked at the force in my words. She turned away and nodded. "Fine."

"I'll take the chair," Raine offered. "Come on Heather, you need the bed."

"And you drove all the way here. You take the bed."

"I can sleep in the Goddamn chair," Evelyn grumbled. "But if you two start humping I'll have Praem turn the garden hose on you."

I guess the beds are too heavy to move around from room to room. Fair enough.

And yeah, definitely look at the damned map. I'm honestly confused as to why Heather hasn't made more noise about that since their arrival. Do they need to wait until morning for some reason?

Winter sunlight woke me, and I woke alone.

Evelyn's absence I'd fully expected. A night in an armchair is uncomfortable for anybody, let alone with Evelyn's catalogue of aliments, but I hadn't wanted to spark an argument by insisting she take my spot in the bed. I'd had just as much trouble sleeping in the unfamiliar surroundings, with all the creaking sounds of the house's ancient frame settling in the cold weather, so I'd had plenty of chances to see Evelyn curled up in the chair as I'd tossed and turned in bed.

Doubtless she was up and about, dealing with her aches and pains. Her bag was still by the chair, along with a spare skirt and thin jumper draped over the arm.

"Raine?" I called into the silence, sitting up and drawing my legs to my chest under the unfamiliar covers. Then I tutted at myself. This was a safe place, I didn't need her for every little thing. I disentangled myself from the sheets and climbed out of bed, winced in the cold and the lance of harsh light through the room's one small window.

My mobile phone had one new message – from Raine.

It was a picture of me asleep in bed, sent about an hour ago, with a pink heart shape drawn in the corner. I'd rolled over to hug the pillow in lieu of Raine herself.

Dawwwwwww.

She'd attached a message.

'Looked like you needed the extra sleep! Gone for a run around the grounds, need to work out the kinks. As I type this, Evee's downstairs eating breakfast with her dad, big score!!!'

I smiled at the picture and blushed, enjoying the feeling. I looked terrible, drooling on the pillow. This was better, this was how we were supposed to be.

When I turned around to find my clothes I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Don't sneak up on people like that! Oh my God." I put a hand to my chest. " … what on earth are you wearing? No, that's perverse, this must be a joke. Praem?"

Praem stared back at me from just inside the now open door. She must have opened it and stepped inside in perfect silence as I was reading Raine's message.

Praem was dressed in an utterly immaculate, perfectly pressed, rigorously starched maid uniform. Not some faux-saucy fetish outfit, but a full-length black skirt and those stupid ruffly shoulder straps which crossed over the middle of her back. She even had a pair of shiny black shoes on her feet, though her long blonde hair was still in the same messy bun from yesterday, exactly like she was a teenage girl in low-effort cosplay. The whole ensemble served to emphasise her already sizable chest, and I did find myself staring for a moment, before I shook my head. I suddenly felt a little exposed, in rumpled sleep-smelling tshirt and pajama bottoms.

That's literally how I was picturing her being dressed from the beginning. Even despite the occasional mentions of her wearing Evelyn's ill-fitting clothes.

Anyway, not a faux-saucy fetish outfit. An *actually* saucy high effort fetish outfit.

Now, who's idea was this, and where did the costume come from?

"You should not be wearing that," I said. "It might suit you, but signalled servility is no virtue. Who dressed you?"

"I am not servile," she intoned, in that ice-cold knife-sharp enunciation of every word. "I am saying good morning."

I boggled at her. Was that the longest, most complete sentence she'd ever spoken?

"Good morning," Praem repeated.

"Good- good morning, Praem." I swallowed. "I do need to get dressed now, so if you could … "

Without another word, the doll-demon turned on her heel and marched back out. Her head briefly reappeared around the door frame. She stared at me, and closed the door after herself.

"We really do need to get out of this place," I muttered to myself.

Well. I'm not sure how to react to any of that. Praem is either going insane, or getting bored. Probably getting bored. This is really just an escalation of her previous sexy-trolling behavior toward Heather.

Still want to know where she got the suit. And how I somehow imagined it before it existed, for that matter. End chapter.


This arc is definitely an odd one.