"Much like the boy then." I tapped the table in frustration. "Lord Edward, what did your grandfather do to her?" I repeated, leaning in and hanging on his every word. I'd stopped even breathing.

  "They transferred the contract," Lord Edward explained matter-of-factly, chomping through some tough meat. "While the demon was bound to her, and we could not under any circumstances discover her name to sign a new one, we could—under a simple, legally binding contract written by Mr. Filch's father, would you believe—bind all of Patuna's possessions to the home and its new owner when she passed. Of course, you can throw out her couch, her plates, that sort of thing. A plate isn't bound to any laws; it's just an object. Demons, however, work differently, as I'm sure you know. What we didn't expect was that she would disappear with Patuna..."

  My jaw clenched, frustrated as I waited for him to continue.

  "You must be wondering why I kept all this from you," he said, eyes turning puppydog, bloodshot and tired.

  "As well as several other things," I replied. "Why? You said you didn't wish to burden me."

  "Because there's no way to reverse this contract! We tried so many times. Even after Patuna's death we tried, but when the demon disappeared and not knowing if she would appear again, that's when I thought, who better to deal with this than a seer? We sent word to your guild, asking if any seers wished to come south. I was going to bring it all up with you, and then the boy happened!"

  "What happened to him in that cave?"

  "Haven't the foggiest. It's just an ordinary cave. Much like the room Patuna emerged from when she changed. Whatever is happening to bind them to demons, it is happening in the hells, perhaps. Certainly not here."

  "Right. But...you're still not explaining where the second burden lies?"

  He sipped his coffee, waited, then said, "Because you're the only one who can take care of the boy's demon. This is the kind thing to do. Someone who understands demons, to transfer the contract to their house. But how can I ask this of you when you're already burdened with one already? And what if you wanted to kill her? Your sword has slain a thousand demons, you said it yourself. I thought seers were kinder."

  "Maybe back then," I said. "Demons were kinder back then too, I suppose. So. Have you met the boy's demon?"

  "Not yet. It took a week for Patuna's to arrive, and seems to be the same case with the boy."

  I nodded. My responsibilities as a former seer overrode any emotions I might feel in time. "I must speak with him then. Speak to his demon when she arrives, and see what sort of stock she is, whether she is worthy of staying at my home or being slain by my sword. Gods know how I'd discover that with just a conversation. I'll have to think it over before we meet. The boy is still at Arnie's?"

  "As far as I know, I haven't spoken to him in a few days."

  We sat in silence for a moment. The fire hissed low in the hearth, a coal collapsing on itself. Outside, an owl screeched once, its cry cutting through the thick stone walls. I felt the weight of the house above us: the lords asleep in their beds, the guards at their posts.

  "I'm sorry, dear boy," Lord Edward said. "There is no true way for you to let the demon go from your home."

  "You are sure of that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Not without her name, and if she can't remember it after all this time, then nothing's changed from back then! You, rather, the house is stuck with her. At least you don't have to have her follow you around. That much my grandfather could do."

  I nodded, heart racing as I rose, book tucked under my arm. "Lord Edward, please tell me where Mr. Filch lives. I have a legal matter for him to tend to."

  23

  "But what about the boy?" Lord Edward stammered.

  I paced quickly to the coach, whistling at Fredric, who was asleep in a chair against the wall. He was probably still on duty. Sorry, pal, duty calls.

  "The boy can wait," I said. "Someone else has waited long enough."

  I'd never felt more sober in my life as I climbed into the coach.

  I shifted to the other side so Edward could step in. Mr. Filch wouldn’t take kindly to being disturbed at this hour, though he’d be friendlier if it were the lord doing the knocking.

  "How exciting!" Lord Edward exclaimed. "I've not had a grand adventure like this in quite some time."

  "Don't think it counts as an adventure if you're staying inside the boundaries of your town," I replied, staring out the window.

  "Oh." He looked downtrodden at that.

  "It sure is a quest, though."

  "Brilliant!" Lord Edward rubbed his hands together as the coach drove off. "I love a good quest! What's the reward?"

  "Eternal loneliness and a sore right hand," I mumbled. I guessed the alcohol was still in my system.

  "What's that?"

  "Freeing a fair maiden from her shackles," I said. "And rescuing another." I perked up a little, having forgotten about that. But with my luck, the new demon would be evil, or worse, unattractive. "Have you got coin on you to pay Mr. Filch?" I asked.

  "Don't you?" He raised his eyebrows at the coin purse attached to my belt.

  I smirked. "Go halves on it?"

  "Deal!" We shook hands.

  Damn it, I did like Lord Edward. I didn't know why I had to keep reminding myself of this fact; maybe because he was a noble and I was predisposed to hating them all.

  Maybe I could help him. Convince his wife of the benefits of running for pleasure and healthy eating. Find a suitor for his daughter. Convince him to start a secret underground gangbang club for him and his friends (not including me, no thank you, m'lord). How hard could that be?

  It wasn't the jobs I had in mind when I came down here. Maybe I'd put them in the back of the ledger as some side-quests to be completed when I had the time to spare.

  I had a book I needed to finish, of course. That'd take up some of my time. And the garden needed tending.

  Maybe Lord Edward could find some more goblins to brutally murder.

  I bashed my fist against the door. Mr. Filch's house was a humble abode, complete with gnomes in the front garden and a cat sleeping on the front bench—either one they'd forgotten to let in or a stray they were kind to.

  Lord Edward grinned giddily, having the time of his life.

  Just then, a flash of guilt sprang through me. Time to be a man, I thought.

  "Sorry about getting you pissed, old chap," I said, scowling and repeating 'old chap?' silently to myself. "Guess we both could've been upfront with each other."

  "Why would you be sorry for that?" he replied. "I had a grand old time! And you did me the kindness of making sure I got home safe. It's dangerous on the road for men of our disposition, you know."

  I cocked my head at him, waiting for him to put it together.

  "Ah..." Suddenly, he looked a little more tired. "I see." His jaw tightened for a moment.

  I could've gone without admitting I'd only gotten him drunk for information, but at some point he'd wake in the night and realize it, and the resentment that followed would only turn ugly.

  Friends made for the worst of enemies.

  I walked over to the windows, peering through the curtains and unable to make out anything inside. They must've been asleep. A Master of Estates probably didn't stay up too late very often; not a lot of contracts needed signing in the dark.

  "Call it even?" Lord Edward finally said.

  Thank the gods for that.

  "Great," I said. "Now when I call upon you for another favor, I can owe you one right back." I saw some movement in the shadows. "Someone's coming," I hissed quietly, like I was still sneaking around.

  "Who the bloody hells is that?" someone yelled. Floorboards creaked and cried out like they were being crushed. Someone large clambered down the stairs, half-sounding like they were rolling down it. "Doris, get the fire poker!"

  "To smack you round the head with? Gladly!" his wife yelled back even louder. "Quit your yelling, won't you? You're waking the kids up!"

  The footsteps got closer. Edward and I shared a look of trepidation, and then Mr. Filch—balding with a needle-thin combover, and without his tophat to cover it—thrust the door open. "Who in the bloody hells—" He caught sight of us, and his tone hiked several hundred miles northeast. "Why, good evening, gentlemen. What can I do for you at this time of night?"

  "Get your quill and parchment," Lord Edward said, beaming proudly. "We've a job for you."

  It was the strangest party I'd ever been in.

  Back in the coach, Mr. Filch would not meet my gaze. It amused me, and I had to resist taking the piss. I couldn't resist that well.

  "Something on your mind?" I asked cheekily.

  "Now..." Mr. Filch began. "We did give you quite a handsome discount on the property, and⁠—"

  I raised my hand. "I'm not bothered," I said. "You did what you had to do, and now I'm doing what I have to do."

  "We'll pay you, of course," Lord Edward said.

  "I think he'd be doing this for free," I said, grinning at Lord Edward. "And then we can all call it even."

  Mr. Filch nodded passionately at that, his jowls shaking. "Be glad to!"

  "Glad we can all start off on a fresh slate," I said. "I'd hate to think we were still keeping secrets from one another after all this."

  A silence filled the carriage. Outside, cows mooed, long past their bedtime—if cows had one; I never learned that at school. The scent of fresh grass and grim compost filled the air.

  "There are no more secrets, right?" I asked.

  "Nonono, none at all!" Lord Edward said, then turned to Mr. Filch. "Right?"

  "You're the lord! I just write the contracts." Mr. Filch then grumbled, "And spend a nice evening with my wife when I can."

  "Alright for some," I said to Lord Edward. He froze for a moment, and then we both snorted with laughter.

  Some time later, my finger drummed nervously on the coach's window ledge. A sickness churned in my stomach, halfway between hunger and the urge to throw up. Why couldn't I transfer my casual, lackadaisical attitude from work and put it here instead?

  I envied them then. They had their wives; whether they liked them or not, they knew what they were coming home to each day—nice and dependable. Nice and boring.

  The coach crawled to a stop, the horses snorting and letting out a little neigh.

  "Wait here a moment, lads," I said. "I'll just go and warn her we've got company."

  I stepped out, and the human-formed demon was already there, wearing her maid's dress and not much else—not even her stockings this time. Her bare human feet were cute, toes tapping on the pavestones.

  Rushing toward her, I spotted the blanket I'd left. I darted past her to grab it, then wrapped it around her, pulling her close to make up for leaving her, even for a moment. "We've got company," I said.

  She nodded. "Visitors? A lady friend to sauté my beef while you watch?"

  "No," I said. "And that's not something I'm into." Please don't be like this. Not now.

  "Me neither! But if you like it, I shall let her munch my beanburger while you shake your wurst!"

  "Gods, just behave for five minutes, okay? Don't mention that stuff."

  She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "That stuff, for you and you alone, ja?" Her voice trembled on my breath and traveled down my gut, settling at my core, trying to harden me.

  "A Master of Estates is here," I said. "He has something for you to sign, a new contract."

  I waved down to the carriage, and Lord Edward and Mr. Filch soon emerged, walking toward us.

  "Herr Gerald?" Grace looked confused, frowning at me. "What is...is that Mr. Filch?"

  I scowled as she left me to walk to him when he got close.

  "Mr. Filch?" she said, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "How long has it been—one hundred years? You have not aged at all."

  Mr. Filch's already red cheeks turned a bright shade of beetroot. "Ah, we've not actually met, my lady. That would have been my father."

  "Ah, Mr. Filch Senior." She nodded sagely. "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, good sire." She bowed and tugged at her blanket a little, as if she were spreading a skirt. Thankfully, she remained fully covered. "I'm not a lady, good sire."

  "Well, I don't quite know how to address a demon, so you'll forgive me."

  "Grace will do," she said, grinning at me. It felt a little wrong, though. I shook it off. Maybe I'd just been calling her 'the demon' for too long and had gotten used to it.

  "Let's head inside," I said. "She's waited long enough."

  Coffee steamed in the air. Outside in the back garden, a cat explored, weaving through empty plant pots and bushes full of little red flowers I didn't know the name of, though I'd often watched the bees enjoying them.

  I liked the back garden, but we never spent much time there. Surrounded by a circle of bushes, it felt a little closed in. Great for privacy, not so great when she wanted to look at the wider world and imagine herself out there.

  The book of demon contracts lay open, Mr. Filch peering through his spectacles at the finer points. There was no author name to speak of, no ancestor to chase up and demand answers from. One day, I'd find out who that seer was that helped Edward's grandfather; I bet he'd know who wrote the damn thing.

  His handwriting was curled but clear enough to read as far as the law was concerned. It read well enough, stating that Grace, the Succubus, would henceforth be free to roam and live as she wished, and any former contracts written with former names were to be voided, as they no longer bore relevancy.

  Grace rocked back and forth on her chair, giddy as a schoolgirl.

  I was nervous but kept my composure, sipping my coffee. I kept my hand on my pommel, as if the nerves inside me were a monster I had to fight.

  Lord Edward stood leaning against the wall, sipping his coffee. I wondered if he did it to lend himself some status by towering over us in our seats. It seemed the first time in his life he'd ever held the lowest status in the room—unofficially, of course. But it showed titles weren't everything. Maybe that was good for him to see.

  "And sign here," Mr. Filch said, sliding the document over to Grace.

  "Heheh, Herr Gerald, can you believe it?"

  She was so excited, so happy to finally be free. How could I express how I really felt? It would be truly selfish. I wanted her here with me. Anything like that had to be said after the contract was written, not before.

  "You've waited long enough," I said with a smile. It was the mantra I repeated to myself whenever doubt crept in.

  "G-r-a-c-e," Grace scratched with the quill, then put it flat down, leaving a little splodge of ink on the corner of the parchment.

  Mr. Filch picked it up and put it back in the pot.

  "Well, how do you feel?" I asked.

  Time seemed to stop, if not for the sailor's clock on the wall still ticking, cutting through the silence.

  "Same, same," she said. "I go test it out, ja?"

  Before I could respond, she leaped from her seat, blanket flying like a cape as she ran down the hallway. Lord Edward walked over to watch her fly out the door.

  "Onf!" Grace cried.

  Lord Edward winced. "That looked like it hurt," he said.

  A moment later, before I could even rise, Grace entered the room again. "It didn't work!" She huffed, walking over to sit on my lap and hug me. "Could be worse, I suppose?"

  She was smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkled with tears, her mouth flickering, but a smile all the same. I knew exactly how she felt. Bittersweet—there was no better word for it.

  "Grace..." I began, not knowing what to say. Again, the words felt wrong. "No, that's not it. Is it?"

  "Hmm?"

  I shook my head, scowling. "Mr. Filch, can you add some words to the end of her name? Will it still be legally binding?"

  Mr. Filch looked both upset and uncomfortable at our display of affection, but he shook it off when I addressed him. "Certainly. What words?" he asked.

  "Ful," I said. "F-u-l, to make it graceful."

  "That should be fine." He dipped his quill and slowly wrote the letters; the scratching made my heart shudder in waves. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight under the blanket, hurting the bones of my hand, but I didn't care.

  Then she let go, took the quill, and added the letters.

  "So that's it then," I said. "Now what? We go try⁠—"

  A hum from the contract cut me off, glowing golden-red as it floated into the air. We all gasped, our eyes glassy with wonder, reflecting the light like a ring of candles around the table.

  "Gerald..." Graceful said. "It...it..." She was still seated on my lap, holding onto me tightly.

  "Go on. Go!" I said, smiling as I lifted her off my lap. "Go feel the grass on your feet."

  She was out in a flash, and I quickly followed. She went out the door, turned a corner, then stood at the edge of the boundary, holding the blanket tight around her like a maiden's cloak.

  She dipped a toe past it, her nail touching the grass, and then her toe made contact. She froze, then turned to me, a wild smile stretching from ear to ear.

  "Go on," I urged, swallowing past a lump in my throat.

  She sprinted a short distance at a marathon pace, leaping into the middle of the grass before turning to grin at me. I gave her a thumbs up, and Graceful danced about, giggling as the grass tickled her bare feet.

  My eyes welled. I touched my heart and felt it warm at the sight.

  "Jahahahahah!" She danced, spinning so fast her tail swept around her. Then she stopped, swaying in dizziness as she looked up to the sky, as if it were a new sky she had never seen before—new stars, a new moon beaming good fortune on her for the rest of her life.

  "It's so wonderful! I have never experienced such…delight in my life. Gerald. Gerald. Herr Gerald, won't you join?" She held out a hand, struggling to keep the blanket around her with the other, her cleavage pressing tighter as the blanket slipped and revealed it.

 

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