Magic and Loss: A Novel of Golgotham by Collins Nancy A

Author:Collins, Nancy A. [Collins, Nancy A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-11-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

After carting Hana and Torn’s belongings back to Fetlock Mews, Canterbury, Octavia, and I immediately set to work retrofitting the loft next door.

The second floor apartment was a huge open space with no interior walls save for a stable-box in one corner large enough to accommodate a pair of centaurs, which was fairly easy to convert into a traditional bedroom. However, upon laying eyes on the bathroom—with its tiled surfaces, reticulated shower-hoses, and scrubbing wands—I coaxed Canterbury into bringing in a licensed plumber to tackle the task of making it truly biped-friendly. Some things, I have learned, are best left to the professionals.

Since it was going to be a couple of days before the loft would be truly habitable, Octavia volunteered her room at the boardinghouse to her former neighbors. At first the old couple refused, claiming they didn’t want to impose any more than they already had, but finally relented once she explained she was scheduled for a week’s rotation at the firehouse anyway. Octavia and I helped the elderly couple pack a couple of changes of clothes and a few other essentials into a carpetbag and left Canterbury to deal with the plumber.

“Is this where you live now?” Torn asked in surprise, peering out the window of the brougham at the boardinghouse.

“Yes,” Octavia replied. “I’m renting from Tate’s boyfriend.”

“This boyfriend of yours—he’s Kymeran?” Torn asked warily.

“Yes,” I replied. “Is that a problem?”

He opened his mouth, as if to launch into a tirade, only to be silenced by a glare from his wife. The old man shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Things were different when we were coming up, that’s all,” he muttered, by way of explanation.

As we entered, we were greeted, as usual, by Beanie, who came scampering from the back of the house, eyes agog and tongue flapping.

“That’s an unusual-looking familiar,” Torn said as he studied the Boston terrier. “What kind of demon is it?”

“It’s a pedigreed frog-bat. Can’t you tell?” Scratch sneered as he sauntered into the room. “Now that I’ve answered your question, it’s your turn to answer mine: what are you two doing here?”

Torn gave a dry, humorless laugh. “I see the cat still has a tongue.”

“You two know each other?” I frowned.

“We three know each other,” the familiar purred as he brushed up against Hana’s leg. “Now you I’m glad to see. You’re the one who made those scrumptious mouse-meat pies. . . .”

“You mean mincemeat, don’t you?” Octavia corrected.

“I know what I said.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Scratch,” Hana smiled. As she reached down to stroke the familiar’s chamoislike skin, Scratch rose onto his hind legs and pressed the flat of his head into the palm of her hand, a public show of fondness I’d never seen him bestow on anyone besides Hexe.

I turned and gave Torn a quizzical look. “Do you mind telling me how it is you’re so, uh, familiar with my boyfriend’s familiar?”

“My wife and I served the late Witch King, Lord Eben and his consort, Lady Lyra, for forty years,” Torn explained with a melancholy smile.

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