It was the first step. The second would be finding places for the rest of the bundle in her arms—his cat bed, the litter box, and a few toys. He had more possessions, of course, but Saga wasn’t going to make multiple trips across the street. Not so soon. It had been hard enough once.
Tending to a cat, fey or not, was the distraction she needed. It was easierto rememberheneeded to be fed. She couldn’t remember that water needed to be in the kettle before she boiled it, or that a number of the items in her fridge were edible despite her inability to perceive them, but filling Riddle’s bowl was important and achievable. She found places for everything and emptied a can of wet food into a small bowl, and then she was out of chores.
Two percussive raps resonated through the apartment, and Saga froze. She turned to Riddle for answers, but the cat, regardless of his supernatural nature, was far more interested in making a nest for himself on the overstuffed armchair.
Perhaps she’d imagined it.
The two raps came again.
Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. The poem crossed Saga’s mind briefly when logic locked hard onto the concept she hadn’t been able to in her dissociative state. Chamber door. Someone was knocking at the door. “Coming!”
Gods forbid her mother be on the other side after she’d forced her visitor to knock twice, Saga would never hear the end of it.“It is ill-mannered to keep guests waiting, Saga, don’t you know that? Didn’t I teach you better?”
Throwing back the door, Saga startled. Thankfully, it wasn’t Audrey Hudson awaiting her, but Avery. “Hi.”
“Hello,” Avery faltered.
Awkward silence fell between them. Avery looked beyond her as if making sure they were alone, then returned her attention to Saga. “How are you?”
Saga shrugged. It was the most honest answer she had.
“I noticed you didn’t come home last night.”
“I needed to be close to family.” It wasn’t personal. At least she didn’t think it was personal.
“Right.” Avery rocked on her heels. “May I come in?”
Could she? Was that wise? Even after everything, Saga found herselfwantingto let her in. There was a stutter to her movement before she stepped aside, opening the door further to allow Avery passage.
“You have a lovely home.” Avery commented, then focused on Riddle. “Will he be staying with you from now on, then?”
Saga shrugged once more. “Leigh and Reza have a baby, so…”
“You remember he is no ordinary cat. If you do not wish him to stay, you may send him back to the Twilight.”
Riddle growled at Avery, punctuating that he was not an ordinary cat and could in fact understand her suggestion.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Saga answered quickly. “That is… I don’t want him to. He’s family.” Remembering he could understand her, she addressed Riddle directly. “You’re family.”
The cat-sìth chirped pleasantly and blinked slowly at Saga as if repeating the sentiment back to her.
“Will you be taking him on asyourfamiliar then?” asked Avery.
“I don’t know.” Saga didn’t even know what that meant. Esteri had said it was some kind of contract, and unless it was something one could write out like a roommate agreement, she hadn’t the slightest idea how to make one, let alone what it entailed.
“You don’t have to decide now.” It was meant as a reassurance, but it put a pause on the conversation in a way that allowed the awkward silence to fall again.
At least it felt awkward for Saga. Avery seemed to enjoy the silence in a way that suggested she’d never felt the nagging pressure to fill it. Saga, on the other hand, could feel her mind racing through options of what to say or do. She should offer her tea. Or ask her to sit. There were a myriad of hospitable things she should be doing. Things she’d normally do. Things that rose up from her throat but smacked against the back of her teeth before they could be spoken.
Eventually, Avery spoke for her. “How is your aunt?”
“I don’t know.” She’d repeated the phrase so much, this time it made her laugh. A breathless little laugh half-strangled with self-loathing, but a laugh just the same. It released some of the tension she’d been holding in her chest. “Leigh’s a lot like my grandmother: really hard to read.”
“When are you having the funeral?”
At last, something she did know. “Next week.” And the thought of the occasion made something else bubble up inside her. Something that tasted bitter and soaked in dread. “My mother is coming down from Oxford for it.”
Avery raised a silver eyebrow. “Is that bad?”
