Page 25 of Every Eligible Man

Oh no.

He's still stealing. He's somewhere in this room, stealing something, and he doesn't know we're leaving.

"Gerald!" I scream.

No answering chitter. No furry face. Nothing.

Ash finds one boot. Just one. He shoves his foot into it, looks around wildly for the other, and makes a split-second decision.

"Fuck it. One boot. Let's go." He throws open the door.

The animals are in full crisis mode.

Squeak, Nibbles, and Twitch have formed a tiny rodent barricade, waving their paws like the world's smallest air traffic controllers. Bastard has a guard pinned against the wall through sheer intimidation, hissing like a demon. One-Eye is dive-bombing anyone who looks at us funny.

"Move move move!" Squeak commands. "Left corridor! Service stairs! The fancy people are still in the ballroom wondering why the lady disappeared!"

We run.

I'm running without Gerald. I'm running and my son is somewhere in that room and I'm abandoning him.

"Slade, we have to go back."

"Five minutes!"

The magic starts failing in the worst possible ways.

Slade's left glove, ornate, embroidered, definitely not something a farm boy should own, suddenly dissolves off his hand and rematerializes somewhere behind us. He doesn't even notice, too busy running.

Ash's remaining boot flickers, the polished leather threatening to revert to mud-caked work gear. He pushes harder, bare foot slapping against marble.

My doublet begins unraveling at the seams, red threads trailing behind me like I'm molting. "I'm falling apart!"

"We're all falling apart!" Slade shouts back. "Stairs!"

I look back. Just once.

Cinder is stumbling after us, sheet clutched to her chest, legs still shaking from everything we did to her. Her voice echoes down the corridor.

"Get back here! I didn't get… wait, is that a goose?"

Bastard pauses his guard intimidation long enough to honk at her, somehow conveying both "sorry about this" and "touch my human and I'll end you" before waddling at top speed after Slade.

We hit the service stairwell at full speed, animals streaming around our feet like a very chaotic honor guard.

"Three minutes!"

We burst out a side door into the gardens.

The carriage is waiting but it's already starting to change.

The glossy black lacquer is bubbling, patches of rotting wood showing through. The silver-spoke wheels wobble ominously. Murder and Violence are stamping nervously, their magnificent stallion forms flickering like candles in wind.

One of them briefly has mouse ears.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

"In in in!" One-Eye shrieks from the driver's bench. "Now! All of you! Before I leave your sorry asses behind!"