31. Syneca #3
I pulled the key from beneath my collar and slid it home. “Indelianous.” The lock turned. The door swung open on hinges that made no sound.
I stepped inside.
The house was manageable. Elegant in its bones, spare in its furnishings, and unmistakably hers.
A few maps were scattered, some labeled in her tight script and some not.
A fireplace long since abandoned, its hearth still ringed with the stubs of melted candles and a scatter of dried herbs gone brittle with age.
A writing desk sat beneath one of the shuttered windows with ledgers left open to empty pages.
The shelves held rows of dusty jars, most empty, a few still clouded with the residue of whatever they'd once kept.
But mostly the house was barren. A haven, but only that and nothing more.
Pip flew to the shelf near the front door. She swiped a finger through the dust and immediately sneezed. “Just needs a little cleaning.”
“Might be hiding something again,” I said looking at Si.
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his wool coat and leaned against the front door. “It’s your house, your call.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “Don’t be bitter because you were wrong.”
“Being wrong about you is becoming a habit I don’t have the energy to fight.”
“You’re not going to win me over with flattery now.” I spun to scan the room before casting the spell circle. As the magic moved around me, I drew from it, whispering, “Revelius.”
Nothing happened. The ledgers stayed blank. The shelves didn’t shift. I turned to them both. “Did anything appear to you?”
Pip yawned. “No.”
“Nothing obvious,” Silas said.
I left it there and took the stairs. The house was just as it seemed.
Covered in dust and bare necessities. The bedroom at the top had a north-facing window with clean sightlines down both sides of the street.
The second bedroom was a cot and bare hooks and not much else.
The bath at the end of the hall was where she’d spent the real money, a copper bathtub that had no business being that large, shelves lined with oils and soaps labeled in her handwriting.
If Eda Mire needed an escape, apparently this was the most important part.
I stood in the doorway a moment longer than I needed to before scanning the rest of the bedrooms for anything of importance.
There was plenty of room and that’s all that mattered.
When I came back downstairs Silas had shifted.
He filled half the couch in griffin form, wings folded, and Pip was already asleep against his side with one hand tucked beneath her cheek.
For one disloyal second, I wanted to cross the room and fold myself against his other side the way I had when he was only ever a griffin and I was only ever safe.
My feet didn't move. But the want did, slow and certain, and I stood at the bottom of the stairs taking in the rise and fall of feathers I used to fall asleep listening to, mourning a thing I was still close enough to touch.
He’d done it for her. He’d made himself into something warm and familiar because she’d found comfort in him long before she knew he was a demon.
She never questioned him after that, as if it didn’t matter at all.
And maybe it didn’t. Maybe I needed to let it go.
But as long as he held me with a bargain, I wouldn’t.
His eyes found me at the bottom of the stairs, held for a moment, then slid closed.
I turned right back around, headed straight for the bath and turned the knob, running my fingers along the runes embedded into the copper rim.
“Thank you,” I whispered, hoping that wherever a soul truly landed, she could somehow hear me.
By the next evening, Pip had worn him down completely.
I watched it happen in real time, her worry sharpening into something relentless, her questions about Calder coming faster and closer together until Silas set down whatever he’d been reading, looked at her for a long moment, and stood without a word.
He was in the air before I made it to the window.
He landed on the street three hours later, massive and completely unamused. That wasn’t the fact that held my attention though. It was the banners, or rather, the lack thereof. There’d been three on the street before Brathen House. Now, there were only two. Odd.
Calder came off Si’s back first, then Dez, then Ramiel, all of them sliding to the cobblestones with varying degrees of grace. Silas shifted mid-step and walked through the gate without breaking stride. Dez and Calder followed.
My mouth twisted as Ramiel walked straight into the ward.
The impact was silent but amusing. He bounced back a full step, caught himself, and stood there staring at the gate with both hands raised. “Really?”
“Let him in, Syneca,” Silas said as he walked past.
I held it a moment longer than necessary. Then cast the spell with a small smile, and Ramiel slumped all the way through like the ward had personally offended him.
“Enjoy the ride?” I teased as Dez passed.
“We’re never talking about it again,” he huffed. “And someone needs to feed the baby giant before he eats the sprite.”