Janelle led us up a flight of stairs at the back of her shop. At the top, she unlocked a bright, eggplant purple door and revealed a large apartment that seemed to take up the entire second floor. Simple furnishings and a warm palette of yellow, brown, and red gave it a welcoming and homey atmosphere, while the style and decor offered plenty to interest the eye. There was a case of old books behind glass, carved wooden statues of people and animals, and a veritable jungle of vibrantly healthy houseplants filling every windowsill, available surface, and corner.
"Get comfy," Janelle said, waving at a set of sofas and chairs. "I'll make some coffee."
Ro flopped onto a rattan throne, and I settled myself on the smaller sofa.
"You'd never know this was up here, from the street," I remarked, taking in the spacious living area.
Kyrie's soft, smooth voice startled me as she spoke at my side. She moved like a silent shadow, and I hadn't realized she'd followed us upstairs.
"Janelle owns this building," she said, coming to sit on the sofa across from me. "She and I live on this floor, and she rents the spaces on either side of the spell shop."
"There's a nightclub in the basement, too," Ro said. "But I wouldn't go down there if I were you. Unless you want to be eaten alive."
Returning with a tray laden with a coffee pot and cups, Janelle caught this last bit and made a dismissive sound.
"Carmella's not that bad," she said. "Besides, she pays her rent on time. That's all I care about."
"Yes—never mind the odd customer leaving via trash bag," Ro commented, as he mixed himself a cup of coffee-flavored sugar and cream. "I suppose you've got to overlook little things like that, when your own operation isn't exactly above board."
Janelle scowled at him, and I glanced from one to the other, feeling a bit lost, and wondering exactly what sort of people I'd gotten myself mixed up with. Besides the fact they were witches and daemons, that is.
"You watch yourself, Ro," Janelle said, pouring herself a cup of coffee, which she took black. "I only take in well-behaved strays."
Ro snorted.
"Strays?" I asked, having gotten the sense we weren't talking about the usual kinds of cats and dogs.
"Stray familiars," Janelle said, pushing the coffee tray towards me. Out of politeness, I poured myself a cup, even though caffeine was the last thing I needed right then. "See, according to witch law, familiars are only allowed in this world if they're bound to a witch. Once their witch dies or releases them, they're supposed to return to their native realm. Only, some don't want to, and some can't. Some are fugitives, like Ro here, or come from persecuted castes."
"Unattached familiars who refuse to leave voluntarily are, if captured, forcibly exorcised and returned to their home dimensions," Kyrie explained. "Janelle gives them a safe place to stay until they can find a new witch, or another more welcoming realm."
"And good luck with that," Ro said. "We come to 'earth' for a reason. It's in a 'Goldilocks' plane. You humans don't know how good you have it. Although personally, I'll take my chances back home before I willingly bind myself to another witch. No offense." He glanced up at me.
"Not all witches are like Oscar," Kyrie said.
"Not all witches are like Janelle, either," Ro replied. "You got lucky."
"Wait, you're...?" I looked at Kyrie uncertainly.
"I am Janelle's familiar, yes."
"And companion, and equal, and lover," Janelle added firmly.
"All of which is considered highly improper, heretical, and even illegal—at least in the eyes of most witches," Ro said.
"Why?" I asked.
"No real reason," Janelle said. "It's just bigotry. 'Earth is for humans,' and 'sure, there are some good daemons, but most of 'em are trouble-makers at best, and naturally evil at worst.' Oh, and my favorite—'free daemons are threats to Witch society.' Because obviously the first thing a free daemon does is go around revealing her existence to the non-magical population."
She rolled her eyes.
"The truth is, most witches are scared of their daemons. They consider giving their daemons free will about as wise as letting a tiger off a leash at a preschool. It's the kind of thing they make rules about."
"Rules Janelle enjoys breaking," Ro put in, "which is naturally why we get along so well."
Janelle rolled her eyes again, but seemed pleased enough with the characterization.
"Anyway, what's the story, kid? How'd you end up the bastard son of a high witch, heir to the Ivy Throne, stuck with this scoundrel as your daemon, and only find out about it all yesterday?"
Deciding that I liked her, and with little other choice, I told her everything, with Ro filling in a few details here and there.
She didn't interrupt, and when I finished she leaned back in her seat, stirring her coffee and staring at it thoughtfully.
"And what about you, Ro?" she asked, without raising her eyes. "What have you been up to?"
"I don't know what you mean," Ro said, examining his nails and doing a good impression of a cat ignoring people.
"Ellie, when did your dad die, again?" Janelle asked.
"Um... about six weeks ago, I think."
"And Ro showed up yesterday. Haven't you wondered where he was all that time?"
Ro sighed. "I was in prison, if you hadn't guessed."
"Oh, I didn't guess. I knew. Ellie deserves to know, too."
"Fine." Ro rolled his eyes. "Your father kept me on the tightest leash, enslaved to his will. There was no way I could have harmed him. Still, it's not unheard of; every once in a while a daemon will find a loophole in a contract and break free. They were naturally suspicious."
"They?"
"The other Thrones—the Witch high council, if you will. I was imprisoned and... interrogated. They found it very interesting that despite my witch being dead, I still wasn't free of his will. Of course, part of Oscar's final command being that I not tell the other Thrones of your existence until I had discovered his murderer, I couldn't satisfy their curiosity. Not that I wasn't... incentivized to do so."
That strange, blank look returned to his eyes, and he shuddered. Then he took a sip of creamy coffee and shrugged.
"They probably would have exterminated me, just to be safe, but then someone ordered my release. Maybe it was a mistake—I didn't stick around to find out."
Janelle sighed. "You're a clever cat, Ro, but you sure are a dumb shit sometimes."
He looked at her over the rim of his cup. "Excuse you?"
"Why do you think Oscar told you not to blab about his kid to the other Thrones? Obviously, he thought one of them cursed him. And why do you think someone attacked Ellie's apartment the same day you tracked him down? Whoever let you go tracked you there, or close enough. You led them right to him, and it's only dumb luck he isn't dead. Ergo, you're a dumb shit."
"Ah." Ro blinked slowly. "I see your point."
"How did..." I swallowed. "How did my dad really die? His lawyer said it was a heart attack."
"A curse," Ro said.
"I, um... I got that much. But...what kind of curse?"
"A bad one." Ro looked away, not meeting my eyes.
"Rumor says it was a putrescence curse," Kyrie stated quietly. "A curse of rot and corruption. If that is so, his death would have been a particularly unpleasant one."
Ro nodded. He looked a little ill, which was an expression I hadn't seen on him before. "Yes. It must have been in something he ate or drank, though he was always so careful... It started in his stomach, anyway, and he, um... His internal organs basically liquified, and..." He swallowed and set his cup down. "Well, I hated him, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
We were all silent a moment, thinking various unpleasant things.
"What about these other thrones?" I asked at last. "Who are they?"
"They govern matters of Witch law," Janelle said. "Kind of like a Supreme Court of magic. There's the Evening Throne and the Morning Throne, the Thrones of Day and Night; Thrones of the East, South, West, and North; and Thrones of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. Then there's the Ivy Throne, which binds all the others together."
"The Ivy is not the strongest Throne," Kyrie put in. "In theory, all Thrones are equal. The Ivy's job is to maintain balance, and to tip it, when necessary. The Ivy does not typically cast a vote, unless the votes of the other Thrones are tied. Then the Ivy tips the scale. In this way, the Ivy Throne has the power to direct the course of Witch society. Therefore, the Ivy must be the most knowledgeable and wise."
"That should rule me out, then," I said.
Janelle nodded. "The Throne isn't usually inherited because high witches can't have children, and only high witches can serve as Thrones. Or at least, that's been the case until you came along."
"I don't get it. If the Throne isn't inherited... how did I inherit it?"
"Witch law," Kyrie said. "When a witch dies, all titles and property—including daemons—are passed to the eldest offspring, if an offspring exists, and if that offspring is also a witch. I suppose they never made a special law regarding Thrones because it seemed unnecessary."
Ro laughed sardonically. "That was always the one bright spot, being bound to your father: I knew if he died, I wouldn't get passed down to his spawn like the family silver. No offense."
"You can stop saying that," I snapped. "I get it. I wouldn't want to be stuck with me, either."
Ro blinked and looked as if he would say something more, but Janelle spoke first.
"Well, that's enough history for now," she said. "I can tell you're still a little shell-shocked by it all—understandably—so I'll let you get settled in. I got some books I can give you later, and we can start lessons tomorrow. Will you show them up, Kyrie?"
Kyrie nodded, set her cup down, and rose gracefully.
"Up?" I asked.
Janelle pointed at the ceiling. "The floor above this one is the 'dormitories,' where the strays stay. Four rooms, two beds in each, and a shared kitchen and bath at the end of the hall. I only got two staying here now, so you an' Ro can take your pick of the empty rooms. It's not the Ritz-Carlton, but it's no flophouse, neither. You can stay long as you need."
"But... My dad's house..."
Ro sighed. "It's not safe to go back there. At least for now. It's warded, yes, but that's only protection to a point. Besides, the police will know you own the place, and probably come looking for you there."
"Oh," I said. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Lucky you have me, then, isn't it?" Ro said, and quirked an elegant, dark brow.
Before I could get too embarrassed trying to think of a good reply, Kyrie touched a thin, dark hand to my arm.
"Come—let me show you the rooms."
Thanking Janelle for her hospitality and generosity, Ro and I followed Kyrie from the apartment and up another, narrower set of stairs. At the top of this was a long hall, with two doors on either side. I glimpsed a slice of kitchen through an open archway at the far end.
The doors were painted bright colors—red and yellow on one side, green and blue on the other.
"Our current guests, Tobin and Luke, are in the green and yellow rooms," Kyrie said. "You have your choice of the others. You'll find the keys inside, on a hook by the door."
I thanked her, and she nodded once. Then, smooth as rippling silk, she transformed into a raven and flew back downstairs. I stared after her.
"So. That's a thing," I said.
Ro laughed. "You know, you're handling all this surprisingly well. I wasn't sure you'd come around, what with all the screaming and fainting in the beginning."
"Which was still less than twenty-four hours ago," I reminded him.
A sound drew my attention, and I saw the yellow door open. A tall, well-muscled blonde man wearing glasses stepped out and waved at us. He wore a white t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and had bare feet.
"Hello," he said, smiling. "I'm Tobin."
I opened my mouth to return the greeting, but Ro stepped a little bit in front of me and spoke first.
"Ro," he said. "This is Ellie."
"Hello, Ro. Hello, Ellie." Tobin waved again. I got the sense he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed. "I live here." He pointed at the yellow door. "And Luke lives there." He pointed at the green door. "Where do you live?"
"We haven't decided yet," I said.
"Oh." He blinked. "Are you... together?"
"We are." Ro's tone made me think his fur would be puffed up, were he in cat form, though I couldn't tell why.
"Well, you want the blue room, then," Tobin said. "I wasn't gonna say, but I think the red room has rats. Unless one of you's a cat!" he laughed.
Ro growled, visible tension in his shoulders. Instinctively, I rested a hand on his back, and—somewhat to my surprise—he relaxed.
"I am a cat, in fact," he said, and nodded at me. "Ellie's my witch."
Behind his glasses, Tobin's eyes went wide. "A wi– A witch?"
"Yes, my witch," Ro snapped.
Tobin raised his hands and stepped back. "I gotcha, bro. Good on ya. So, um... you want the rat room—I mean, the red room, then?"
"No. We'll have the blue." Ro took my hand, dragged me towards the door, opened it, and shoved me through.
"Nice to meet you, Ellie!" Tobin called, craning his neck and waving at me. "Nice to meet you, Ro! Luke should be off work soon. Thursday is vegan night, so I'm cooking. We're having tofu burgers. You can join us if you—"
Ro shut the door.
"That was rude," I said, frowning at him. "He was just trying to welcome us."
Ro rolled his eyes. "Strays are the worst. He's a dog, too, unless I'm wrong. Urgh." He shuddered.
A bunch of questions rose in my mind. Why did daemons have humanoid and animal forms? What determined what animal's shape they took? Why didn't cats like dogs?
I settled on the foremost one. "What's wrong with Tobin? Why don't you like him, I mean?"
"No reason." Ro sniffed. "I'm sure he's lovely. It's just that strays are desperate. They'll do anything to gain a witch, and you can bet they've a good reason not to want to return to their home realm. Just be on your guard, that's all—and don't let them know you're up for grabs."
"Am I?" I raised my brows at him.
"Well... not yet, but..."
"Once I release you."
"Right."
"What were you running from?" I asked. "Why did you bind yourself to my father in the first place?"
He frowned. "I was young and stupid," he said. "I made myself more enemies than was good for me."
I frowned back at him. He had to know that wasn't good enough.
"My mother is a daemon queen," he said, huffing, "and I pissed her off. Royally."
"Can't imagine how," I said.
He laughed. "You've no idea."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me."
His expression softened, and he tilted his head to the side. "Your father never even asked," he said, a thoughtful note in his voice.
Abruptly, he drew a breath, and grinned, showing me his fangs.
"Well, let's get settled. And hey—things are looking up already. Janelle's accepted you, and we've even got tofu burgers in our future."
I grimaced, and followed him into the room.