Secrets Close Like Anything

They strolled in this direction for a few minutes, winding through a maze of unmarked roads, each somewhat different from the one before it. But soon the buildings around them started to transform, becoming less dilapidated, and there were fewer beggars and glum looks. Windowsills were adorned with flowers, and the houses grew until they were in front of what must have been the biggest in the city.

She brushed the back of her fingers along her chin and pointed up at the large manor, her face breaking into a smile. She told him bluntly, "That’s where you’re going, then!" "Matron Annelore must be consulted first by anyone coming through here. She is the busiest person in the city and is very secretive, but she will give me a dime for introducing you to her."

She pulled him up the walk, through the gate, and to the door, where it was illogical to object, before he could point out that this had not benefited him in any way. Without hesitation, she grabbed the hefty brass knocker and smashed it down three times, leaving him with the sound of metal hitting wood in his brain. She persuaded him that she would fall by rocking back on her heels and then forward onto the balls of her feet. She appeared to be rather proud of herself, whatever was going on.

Before the heavy door opened, it took at least three breaths, his, not hers. Instead of the elderly woman he had anticipated from the word "matron," he saw a young woman who appeared preoccupied. "Amara?" Her eyes only flicked to the stranger as a fleeting smile adorned her features. She turned back to the girl without responding. "Is it a guest for Grandmother? She is in the study, looking out her window at the outside world. You're aware of the path.

The woman pushed by the man with her, not saying hello or how-are-you, as though she had already left and the door opening was merely a side note. Amara, if that was her name, did not look after her and gave no further respect in return. With joy, she yelled, "Likely knows we’re here, then!" and drew him closer.

In fact, he saw a shadow in the upper window of the house, but it wasn't the girl's grandma. It didn't appear human to him at all. His lips curled into a humorless smile, and his throat constricted a little. He might find this evening easier than he anticipated.

As she guided him through the passageways of the old house and up a worn-out staircase that groaned more beneath her feet than beneath his, he made no more objections. His thoughts were focused on the chamber where he had caught a glimpse of that shape, and he prepared to call it quits on his pursuit as soon as they turned that way. However, with the human girl present, how?

As if encouraging the intruder, the so-called study stood with its door ajar. He stepped through with the girl, pulling her a little behind him, his whole body rigid, ready to strike.

"Eager to meet me, sir?" The voice had a slight trill supported with unexpected power. The old woman who spoke stood with a grace that belied her age, gazing at him as if she were concentrating on the vacant doorway outside. "Little reason to be so rude, even to a gutter child, but come in."

Each swipe sent little clouds of dust into the air as she rubbed the front of her old clothing with slender, abnormally pale fingertips. She didn't seem to realize that whatever prosperous status she had formerly valued was long gone. She did, however, grin with all of her teeth in place, and her shiny silver hair cascaded down the pleated front of a once-pricey gown and over her shoulders as she bowed her head in welcome.

"How do you do, then, and welcome to my home." He glanced at the little hand she extended to him, unsure of what to do. Without even a hint of a grin, she reprimanded, "Come, come, don’t you know how to greet a proper lady?" He felt that he was making a serious mistake, and because looking around the room showed nothing of what he had believed he had seen, he decided to answer.

Luckily, he started when Amara gave him a hard side-on shove. He looked at her and noticed that she was grinning too much while muttering to herself, "It's futile for you to kiss her hand! If you can't even properly greet me, how can I earn my coin?"

He bowed deeply enough for his lips to touch the back of the older woman's hand, but it felt awkward. His mouth touched powder, and simultaneously the smell of delicious decay and deep exhaustion filled his nostrils. She pursed her lips and arched one eyebrow as he straightened, making him question what he had done wrong. Whatever it was, she withdrew her hand as though contented and said nothing more about it.

"Now," she said in response, if it could be called that, "you can at least offer your name, since I'm sure the waif has already told you mine." As he suspected she had been doing before he arrived, she shifted away and turned back to face the window. Had he really seen this elderly woman? That wasn't something his gut would readily accept.

He had nothing to give but a name, had he? He also didn't know enough names in this realm to make up a convincing tale. To be honest, he didn't see much use. He had to leave without spending words with a woman who was barely half human if his target wasn't present. In a bland manner, he said, "I'm afraid there's been a mistake." "I need to get things done. Please pardon me.

Without much ceremony, he turned and glanced around the room just long enough to make sure he hadn't missed anything. After that, he left them both to complete whatever they had planned. Other than hoping the girl got her coin, he didn't have time for such unimportant things.

Time might be running out, and he needed to locate the demon.

The elderly woman didn't appear unduly upset, but she also didn't appear to be very happy about the stranger's sudden dismissal. "And you’re certain, child?" she said gently, her prim dislike and arrogance abruptly gone.

Amara nodded, her lips pursed, her eyes solemn now. With a quick assurance, "Not like the others, Matron," she said. "He doesn't have any evil in him, mind you, but he's definitely not of this planet. I wouldn't put more trust in him than I would in the other—you know which one." Her gaze drifted to the ancient bookcase, where a tall, slender figure stood motionless, observing them both, hidden from everyone else's view.

The elderly woman's annoyance was obvious this time. "Amara, I'll get him out of here!" she yelled. "As I've previously stated, I don't want that creature close to me! As if an elderly woman's concerns about keeping an eye out for the specter of death weren't enough!" As if that resolved the matter, she turned, glared at the monster she couldn't see, then stalked to her enormous chair and sat down once more. They both knew, of course, that it didn't. The old woman found little solace in acting as though she had the authority to force him to leave.

It's hardly an imp shade. Amara inhaled deeply, but she kept her mouth shut and didn't speak. Not because it would make her feel better or because the creature would be offended, but because her mother had died as a result of such a thoughtless lapse. She remembered that her mother had never tried to explain that a witch was just born a witch and wasn't made by some horrible pact.

She was so engrossed in these sinister ideas that she hardly noticed the woman pressing a silver, not a copper, into her hand. "You’ll watch him, child, but not if it places any danger on you." After a little silence, she said something they both knew was true—but she might speak to the girl first. "If circumstances had been different, I may have had a granddaughter like you. Of course, more my than... She inhaled deeply, pursed her lips, and said nothing more.

With a glimmer of sympathy for the half-breed demon, Amara nodded. In her grandmother's home, even a witch was more accepted than she was. It also made her feel guilty because she actually liked the older girl and recognized qualities in her that the other girl obviously couldn't. But somehow, she had replaced her.

She pocketed the coin she didn't really need and made the absent-minded vow, "I'll take care." You'll also notice that Elyra does. Whether she has dark blood or not, he will pursue her. After all, none of them ever visited this city except for her.

Including, of course, the one by the books—watching, listening, and not a word.