Chapter 2 — Teeth in the Walls
RECOVERY OF BOUND FAMILIAR.Client: Oren Pell, student of minor binding arts.Location: 3 Kettle Lane, Boarding House.Condition: alive if practical.Fee: twenty-six crowns.
The writ looked harmless.
That’s exactly what I needed.
It was printed on cheap yellow paper with a green seal pressed crookedly into the corner.
“Twenty-six crowns,” I said.
Garrick stood beside me at the board with his arms folded. “Try not to spend it all on dying.”
“It says minor bites.”
“It would.”
“That means?”
“That whoever wrote it wanted you to believe the bites were minor.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
I took the writ anyway.
3 Kettle Lane was a Boarding House that leaned over a narrow street that smelled of something sweet going rotten under the stones. One sign said ROOMS BY WEEK. Another sign beneath it said NO SINGING AFTER DARK. Someone had crossed out singing and written BLEEDING.
The owner was a square woman with iron-grey hair and a towel wrapped around one forearm.
“You the hunter?”
I touched the badge on my coat. It still felt fake.
“Daniel Cross.”
“Don’t care. Catch it.”
“What is it?”
“A pest with paperwork.”
She led me through a common room full of people pretending not to watch. One man held a bandaged finger in the air like evidence. A little girl sat on the stairs with both feet tucked under her dress.
“That thing bit six people,” the owner said. “Renters are threatening to leave.”
A thin young man in a blue student robe pushed away from the wall. He had ink on his fingers and a nervous mouth.
“Oren Pell?” I asked.
“My familiar,” he said quickly. “My lawful familiar. The writ confirms recovery rights.”
I had learned enough in one week to dislike anyone who said lawful that fast.
“What kind of familiar?”
“Small.”
“That isn’t a kind.”
He swallowed. “A gutter-sprite. Mostly rat. Some moth. Very low intelligence.”
From inside the wall, something clicked.
Everyone went quiet.
The sound came again. Click-click-click. Then a voice, tiny and cracked, whispered, “Don’t open.”
The little girl on the stairs whispered, “It says that every time.”
Oren went pale. “It mimics. That’s all.”
The owner pointed up the stairs. “It keeps running to room six and bites anyone near the door.”
“What’s in room six?”
“My room,” Oren said.
The owner said, “Not anymore. You stopped paying yesterday.”
“That isn’t relevant.”
The wall clicked again.
I climbed the stairs slowly. The boards bent under me. The hallway smelled worse up here, old smoke and damp plaster. Room six had a brass lock and three fresh scratch marks near the bottom.
Something moved above the doorframe.
I looked up.
The familiar stared down at me.
It was smaller than a cat, with a rat’s narrow body, folded moth wings, too many elbows, and wet black eyes too large for its skull. A strip of red cord was tied around its throat so tightly the fur had rubbed away beneath it.
It opened its mouth.
The teeth were very white.
“Don’t open,” it said in a voice that sounded stolen from a frightened child.
Oren hurried up behind me. “Grab it. Now.”
The familiar flattened itself against the wall. One wing trembled.
I raised both hands. “Easy.”
“It does not understand you,” Oren snapped. “It’s bound property.”
The familiar hissed at the word bound.
That seemed like understanding to me.
The owner pulled a key from her apron. “Hunter, either catch it, kill it, or get it into the room. I’m done waiting.”
Oren’s hand shot out. “No. The room is under client privacy.”
“Client privacy ended when your pet chewed through my tenant’s thumb.”
“Familiar,” he said. “Not pet.”
The little creature looked from Oren to the key. Its claws scraped the plaster.
“Don’t open,” it whispered.
Then, from behind the locked door, something knocked once.
Not from the hallway side.
From inside room six.
Nobody moved.
Oren licked his lips. “Old pipes.”
The boarding house owner stared at the door. “There are no pipes in that wall.”
My writ suddenly felt heavier in my pocket.
Recovery of bound familiar. Return alive if practical.
It did not say anything about locked rooms.
It did not say anything about frightened creatures.
It did not say anything about the person, thing, or mistake waiting behind that door.
I looked at the familiar. It watched me with those huge black eyes.
Twenty-six crowns would buy food, rent, and maybe shoes.
All I had to do was obey the writ.
Reader Vote — What should Daniel do?
A — Obey the writ. Catch the familiar and return it to Oren Pell. Daniel needs the money, and the writ is clear.
B — Open room six. Ignore Oren’s warning and find out what the familiar is guarding.
C — Gain the familiar’s trust. Try to calm the creature and learn why it keeps saying, “Don’t open.”