Gwen walked me down the back hall like I was a parcel nobody wanted to sign for.
I had my list folded in my cardigan pocket. It felt like armour, which tells you plenty about my life.
Gwen: Don't speak unless they speak to you. And don't be funny.
Mabel: I'm not planning to be funny.
Gwen: You're always funny. That's the problem.
The council sat in a room behind the bar I hadn't seen yet. Long table, low light, three demons in dark suits.
Brant was in the middle. Heavyset, silver hair, and eyes the colour of a cold coin.
Brant: A human saw teeth, bled on my nephew's floor, and lived to chat about it.
Brant: So this is the clerk. That's a risk with a face on it.
He said risk the way other people say rats.
Brant: Rennick had mates. They're up there right now, asking about a lost property woman.
Brant: Keep her, they come down here looking. Let her go, she talks. Cages are cheaper than funerals.
My stomach slid down somewhere near my sensible shoes. And my mouth, being a traitor, kept on smiling.
Ambrose: She stays.
He said it from the doorway, not even sitting down. Just standing there like the room had been built around him.
Brant: Nine days. You've known this woman nine days and you'd swear for her in front of us.
Brant: Say it properly, then. You vouch for a stranger with your own neck.
And I heard my own voice before I'd decided to use it.
Mabel: I'll work.
Mabel: You don't have to lock me in a cupboard. Give me a job and I'll earn the room.
Brant: Work. A human. In a bar full of things that eat humans.
Mabel: I made them toast yesterday and nobody died. That's a solid first day.
One of the other demons made a sound. I'm fairly sure it was a laugh wearing a cough as a coat.
Brant: This is not a joke.
Mabel: I know it's not. I'm not laughing at you. I'm just difficult to scare into being quiet.
Mabel: Give me The Hush. I'll keep a lost property shelf, I'll answer the phone, I'll do the tea.
Mabel: Everyone here is about to be very embarrassed by how organised I am.
Brant: And if I say no?
Mabel: Then you say no and I go in the cupboard. But you'd be wasting me, and I reckon you hate waste more than you hate me.
Ambrose: Mabel. Stop.
Mabel: Why? It's working.
It was. Brant's jaw had gone tight, which I was choosing to read as impressed.
Brant: One month. She stays below. She works, she doesn't leave, and her work is her leash.
Brant: Anything goes wrong, it's your neck. Not hers.
Brant buttoned his jacket and the whole room let out a breath I hadn't noticed we were all holding.
Brant: Clever one, isn't she. Clever ones always think they're buying time.
He looked right at me when he said it.
Ambrose: You didn't have to do that.
Mabel: You didn't have to say my name in front of them.
He opened his mouth, found nothing to put in it, and shut it again.
Ambrose: You'll stay below, then. It's the only way I can keep you breathing.
Mabel: Then I'm staying.
I said it fast, and his eyes came up quick, and neither of us had anything clever left to say.
Buying time, Brant had said, like it was a trick and not the only thing I had.
I looked at the big frightening demon disappearing into the bar and thought, honestly, I really hope not.