Page 35 of Mortdale

He paused. “What’s a Thomas?”

“My fam…rat!” I gave him a toothy grin. “He’s my rat.”

“A rat,” he mulled, his bushy grey brows almost meeting his sparse hairline. “I presume his lordship doesn’t know of your pet rat?”

I pouted, rubbing my hands together. “Do we have to tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

Ignoring the chills that spread down my spine, I stayed put. All my life, I’d been the butt of most jokes. The funny-looking witch. The witch with the curse. The witch who sleeps with the dead. I’d heard it all. My looks, my simple, unclaimed existence, my profession, what I loved and who I loved, they all had been poked and prodded at. I knew what it felt to be laughed at. I’d gotten used to it. For some reason, I couldn’t bear for him to think of me as ridiculous and farcical.

“She has a pet rat, sire.”

“Christof,” I hissed under my breath, lowering my head in defeat.

“Were they out of cats and dogs?”

I twirled around to him, locking my hands behind my back. “Should he be loved any less because of his kind’s ill reputation?”

He stuck a hand in his pocket and leaned against the balustrade, all tall and extremely well dressed. “We’re still talking about this rat, I presume.”

Asshole.

“Cute kid. Almost as cute as my rat. I’ll let you keep the kid if you let me keep my rat.”

His bottom lip rolled between his teeth as he briefly turned to stare away from me. “She’s been waiting to meet you for days,” he said after a moment.

“The disappointment must have left her sore. Hope you didn’t build too much of her expectations.”

He took a tin out of his pocket and brought a cigarette out of it. “You’ll grow on her.”

Well, the only one who had room for more growing was her. “Where did she come from? I haven’t seen her around.”

“She stays with her paternal grandmother on the weekends and holidays. They get her for a few weeks in the summer and then in winter.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”

His eyes dropped down at the entry hall where Piper was sprawled over the floor, playing with some toys. “She left me a piece of her. I can’t be too mad about it.” Pushing from the balustrade, he passed by me. “You can keep your rat.”

I got on my toes as I shouted after him, “I’m glad we reached an agreement. It would have been sad to see Piper go.”

He brushed a hand over his face, and I thought I saw his shoulders shaking as he entered his room.

Christof was still dusting in my close proximity even when I descended to the first floor, hiding behind a newel post. “She won’t bite.”

“You think?” Poking my head between two balusters, I watched her run around. “I haven’t been around many small people before. What on this Hellish earthly realm is she even wearing?”

“It’s her Tuesday outfit. The sire lets her choose one day a week where she can pick what she wears. A compromise after many, many intensive negotiations of her refusing to get dressed in the mornings.”

That explained why she was dressed like a court jester likely arrested for aggravated nose-picking.

I jumped back when she appeared next to me.

She glanced at me warily. “How come your rat talks?”

“He’s a special rat,” I carefully said, shooting a look at Christof, who was stifling a smile.

“Why do you get a special rat?”