Page 59 of Housesitter

Shepherd squeezed his hand.

“So don't use the smoke on her again,” Shepherd said. “Or me. Lesson learned.”

The idea that it would be that easy, that Kel would just stop, dragged a humorless laugh out of Kel. He sighed and leaned in for a kiss. The plan was quick and dismissive, but Kel lingered.

Kel didn’t want to admit anything, but he’d missed this. It didn’t change anything.

“Except I will,” Kel said against Shepherd's mouth. The smoke curled around his words, eager and full of ideas. “I want to use it right now, to make this easier. Whatever Easy is, he's right that I'm not cut out for this. And I think he's the only one who can help me.”

Shepherd leaned in close and wrapped his arms around Kel's waist. He rested his head against Kel’s shoulder.

“I don't trust him,” Shepherd said.

“Do you trust me?” Kel asked instead.

Shepherd snorted dismissively at that. “No.”

Kel laughed into Shepherd's hair.

“I–”

Before he could get anything else out, Shepherd pulled back, offended as a cat, and waved a warning finger under his nose.

"Don't," Shepherd said. "I am still a flight risk."

Kel grinned. "What do you think I was going to say?" he asked. "That I'm glad you're back?"

“Good. That’s fine," Shepherd said. "Leave it there."

"You’re full of yourself, you know that,” Kel teased him. “What did you think I was going to say? That I loved you? You’re not that cute.”

He waited.

Shepherd gave him a wry look. “For a start, yes, I am,” he said. “And I didn’t—”

The sound of a guttural scream from below interrupted Kel watching Shepherd squirm. It was followed by something cracking. The two of them traded ‘what now’ looks and then headed toward the noise.

The heavy iron poker rattled as it hit the ground.

“It’s not here,” Easy said. His even, equable tone was at odds with the mess he’d left in the hallway. The antique mirror hung by the front door was shattered, the decades-old tiles on the floor had been pulverised, and he’d smashed a hole big enough to crawl through into the wall. It exposed the old, dusty lathes, blooms of old mold, and a strung-up burlap sack with dark stains on the bottom. Meanwhile, Easy casually brushed plaster dust and glass off his sleeves. “Albert must have had a contingency plan to stymie me in case I ever got back in. You need to work out what it was.”

Kel dragged his gaze away from the bag that swung–gently–back and forth in the wall. He probably didn’t want to know.

“Us?” he said. “You knew him.”

Easy folded his sleeves back and straightened his watch.

“I knew what he wanted,” Easy said. He sighed dramatically, puffing his lips out, and muttered as an aside. “...and I should have just thrown him one. It would have been quicker. But that doesn’t mean I understood him. If we understood you lot, we’d not have to play games for your souls. We’d have them already. So, if you were a nobody who’d lucked into immense demonic power, and then did nothing with it other than thwart me…where would you put my contract?”

He waited. Expectantly.

Ruby looked away from the window as Kel opened the door to her room. She looked different without her usual war paint. Smaller. Older.

“Is it that time of the week again?” she said in a thin, reedy voice. One hand lifted, trembling, from the arm of the chair as she beckoned him in. “Can you stay a little longer this time? I don’t want to put you out.”

The attendant gave Kel a withering look.

“It’s nearly lunchtime, Mrs. Laker,” she said, her voice pitched up and sing-song. “Do you want me to ask Chef to add two plates for your guests?