《The Demon’s Companion》 Prologue It is dark and rainy in the streets of Buenavaire, and yet the young woman running can¡¯t even give a damn. Her ankles have long been rubbed raw by the uncomfortable heels she¡¯s wearing, her skirts wet and torn from snags and catches. Her lungs scream for air, they are on fire, scorching her raw throat, restricted by the usually helpful corset that was tightened more than usual by Olivia. But Sable Whittaker couldn¡¯t care less. All she wants is to get as far away from home, from the party, from him, as possible. Despite the heat burning through her body, her teeth chatter from the cold of the night. A lock of dark brown hair, curled for the occasion, falls over her face, into her mouth, and she spits it out. A lantern flickers weakly in the dark, and that should be her first clue that she has run much more than she thought. Her second clue is the loose cobblestone her heeled shoe catches on, sending her plummeting to the ground. Sable¡¯s cheek smashes against the stones, and she tastes blood as her teeth sink into her tongue. The sharp, metallic flavor is enough for her mind to realize the weariness soaring through her, how air is hard to come by, the throbbing pains in her legs. She forces herself up, despite the stinging on the palms of her hands. Her legs were spared any scrapes, protected by her thick skirts. But as she moves to take a step, a sudden searing pain in her foot causes her to scream and nearly fall over again. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. She doesn¡¯t want to even look at her ankle. She already knows at the very least, it¡¯s swollen and red. At worst, she¡¯ll see her own bones sticking out of it. The flickering gaslight catches her attention, and for the first time, she realizes exactly where she is. She is at the very edge of Willow¡¯s End, the area of town where high society and ¡°proper people¡± live. She¡¯s not even one mile away from Grayman¡¯s Chapel, the one area of town that her mother and father warned her to stay as far away from as possible, telling her since she was four years old how that is no place for a fine young lady. Anything could happen to her, and no one would know, especially with her unable to even walk. Her fingernails chip against the cobblestones as she screams in frustration. Rain begins to fall faster and heavier, yet Sable makes no movement. Her eyes dart up at the sound of footfalls. Her breath catches with shock as her brown eyes meet a pair of piercing blue ones, blue eyes that practically glow in the near darkness. She remembers who Cornelia Bellowes and Agatha Beauregard were gossiping about at the party. ¡°He nearly lives amongst the poor people, the commonwealth, has he no idea of social etiquette?¡± ¡°He mustn¡¯t, otherwise, why would such a wealthy bachelor want to live near the grime of society?¡± ¡°Maybe he¡¯s the Tearer, seeking out vulnerable, poor, nameless ladies to rip and slice up!¡± ¡°No, that can¡¯t be, not a nobleman! Maybe he isn¡¯t human.¡± ¡°Aggie, hush!¡± ¡°Richard saw him a few nights ago, strolling around. He said he could see his eyes even several feet away! Nobody¡¯s eyes glow like that, he may even be a demon!¡± Sable had rolled her eyes at the accusations, continuing to sip on her favorite raspberry wine instead. But now, she is making eye contact with the so-called demon of Willow¡¯s End. Malcolm Leroux. Chapter One ¡°O-Olivia, just a moment!¡± Sable finds herself gasping. ¡°Isn¡¯t this corset tight enough already?!¡± Olivia, her loyal maid, merely tuts disapprovingly, as though Sable is still a twelve year old complaining about having to wear her corset for the first time. ¡°This is quite standard for a normal engagement party, Miss Whittaker!¡± she replies too cheerfully as she tugs once more. Sable¡¯s lungs constrict for a moment from the tightness and she nearly yelps. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that, Miss Whittaker,¡± Olivia chides. ¡°Mrs. Whittaker¡¯s corset is even tighter, and she¡¯s in her forties! You are twenty two, can¡¯t you handle a simple corset?¡± Yes, in fact, Sable can. Corsets usually help her with her back and give her support. But Olivia usually doesn¡¯t tighten them so damn tightly. She huffs, blowing a strand of curled hair from her face. Damn this engagement party, and damn Silas Montgomery. Sable nearly audibly groans at the very thought of her arranged fianc¨¦. He should be marrying the money he actually loves, not me! Olivia yanks one final time on her corset, effectively pulling her out of her thoughts. The party is nearly as drab and dull as she expected. It¡¯s beautiful in her eyes, of course, but it isn¡¯t the visuals that keep making Sable return to the champagne and raspberry wine. The room is filled with gossip, mostly about minor scandals that she finds tame, or the potential identity of the Tearer, the murderer stalking the streets and gutting innocent, usually lower class, women. Sable finds it rather crass to speak so boldly about him as if he were a spectacle. The Whittaker¡¯s lovely ballroom, usually used three times a year for each family member¡¯s birthday, is decorated to look like something out of a fairy tale from the Middle East. Father has wasted no expense celebrating his one and only daughter¡¯s engagement. Small lights decorate the stairwells, and ornate lamps from grandmother¡¯s home country circle the floor. Heavy mahogany and burgundy colored drapes hang onto the windows. Sable bitterly notes that none of the food or drinks are anything Grandmother Laila ever made. Although, the fruit punch is sprinkled with pomegranate seeds, just as she made it when Sable was but a child. She wishes father had at least included her favorite saffron rice. And there is no sheermal, or kebabs, or even fereni, her favorite dessert. She pats down her lavender skirt. The dress is beautiful, an icy lavender gown with a thin golden overskirt made of tulle. Her heels, while hidden, are also golden, and she wears an outer corset made of a dark red leather that accentuates her curves. Her dark chocolate brown hair has been curled into an intricate updo as well, with a subtle lavender ribbon tying it back. Most of the other ladies here are wearing darker or more vibrant colors. Pastels have only just begun to grow back in fashion, and Madame Loretti, their family fashion consultant, took full advantage of that, despite Sable¡¯s preference for darker shades. She¡¯d merely clucked her tongue and flicked her eyes down Sable, as if saying, Your skin is dark enough, you don¡¯t need dark clothes too. Even if Sable is a much lighter shade of brown than Grandmother or even Father, the soft tan of her skin evokes whispers amongst the fair skinned high society. She knows that is what most people talk about when her name comes up. And judging by the way people are still ignoring her at her own engagement party, instead surrounding Silas, she knows her skin is all they see. She hadn¡¯t felt so uncomfortable about it before Grandmother¡¯s passing. But afterwards was when the whispers started. A sudden tap on her shoulder jolts her out of her morose thoughts, and she turns around to see Evie¡¯s light green eyes looking at her. ¡°Sable!¡± she squeals, taking her hands in her own. Sable feels all the tension of the night ease away at the sight of her dearest friend. ¡°Evie,¡± she breathes. ¡°Thank god you¡¯re here, I thought I was going to go mad from all the mundane conversation!¡± Evie winks at her before sighing dramatically. ¡°You know better than to say the Lord¡¯s name in vain!¡± she scolds mockingly, and Sable playfully groans. Evie is adorned in a forest green dress with brass accents. It flatters her eyes, and brings out the darker hints of gold in her blonde hair. ¡°That dress is lovely,¡± Sable says and Evie grins back at her. ¡°Aw, thanks!¡± she chirps back. ¡°But pastels and an outer corset? I know that¡¯s popular in Sharmonte, but it hasn¡¯t caught on yet here. Maybe you¡¯ll be a trendsetter!¡± Sable does laugh at that before taking one more sip of her wine. She¡¯s starting to feel a little warm. It is her third drink so far. ¡°Me, a trendsetter. Ha, that¡¯s a good one. And maybe The Tearer will stop his slayings!¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Evie¡¯s cheer dims down a little, and Sable suddenly realizes what she¡¯s just said. The Tearer had claimed one of his victims nearby Henderson¡¯s Books, Evie¡¯s father¡¯s store and Sable¡¯s favorite part of town. Business had declined drastically since then. In a way, it¡¯s a miracle her beloved friend could even afford a new dress. The few times they¡¯d been out in public together since the incident, more people had whispered about Evie than Sable. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Sable hurriedly says before grabbing the first snack on the table next to her, offering it to Evie. ¡°Here, have a raspberry and pistachio tart, they¡¯re sublime!¡± Evie chuckles from Sable¡¯s poor attempts to console her. ¡°Thank you,¡± she replies, voice soft, as she eats the tart in one quick bite. Some jam smears on her lower lip, and both women find themselves laughing despite themselves. A harsh cough behind Sable nearly makes her jump, but instead, she slowly turns around to see her fianc¨¦, Silas Montgomery, standing behind her, and judging by the tightness of his mouth, he¡¯s been waiting for a while. ¡°I hate to interrupt you two,¡± he says, tone short and curt enough for both of them to know he doesn¡¯t really mean it, ¡°But the party is already half over, and I have yet to dance with my lovely bride to be.¡± Sable resists the urge to roll her eyes. Not like Silas himself has been dancing with the ivory skinned, strawberry-blonde Cornelia Bellowes whenever he has the chance. All Sable has been doing is snacking lightly, drinking, and chatting with Evie. Not dancing with another man at her engagement party. She almost has to respect his nerve. She offers her glass of wine to Evie without breaking eye contact with Silas, forcing a respectful, polite smile on her lips. ¡°Oh my,¡± she begins. ¡°Where has the time gone?¡± She takes his hand and watches Evie teasingly take a sip from her glass, causing Sable to exaggeratedly frown as she walks away with her arranged fiance. It¡¯s a classic waltz, perfect for such an arranged marriage. His grip on her waist feels a little tight, but Sable can manage. They dance in silence for a few minutes. She¡¯s never had much to say to Silas before. She wouldn¡¯t mind this engagement half as much if she and he could get along, but unfortunately, Silas¡¯ love of money and dull personality makes that a near impossibility. He has no interest in the arts, nor even in archery or horseback riding. He instead likes the occasional gamble, his work as head of his family¡¯s factory, and not much else. He¡¯s more of a gossip than most of the ladies she knows. She also knows that he feels similarly about her as most of the town does, despite how his eyes linger on her more often than she would like. ¡°It¡¯s odd to think,¡± Silas begins, ¡°That by the end of next month, we¡¯ll be married.¡± Sable forces herself to smile politely. ¡°It is strange to think that,¡± she replies. ¡°What have you been doing this evening?¡± Sable shrugs. ¡°The odd dance, chatting with Evie, enjoying the refreshments.¡± ¡°A little too much, I do say.¡± She raises an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± she asks. ¡°I was watching you. You drank practically three glasses of wine, and one glass of champagne.¡± Sable swallows a chuckle. ¡°I have a high alcohol tolerance, as you know,¡± she says as he dips her. His lips tighten together. ¡°I know that,¡± he says, raising her back up to continue the dance. ¡°Yet I can¡¯t help but think of your Aunt Mary-Rose, and what her life is like. I don¡¯t want my wife to be gossiped about like that.¡± Suddenly, Sable loses the urge to laugh. ¡°Watch what you say about my aunt,¡± she spits. Aunt Mary-Rose is infamous for three things. Her being in her forties and unwed, her love of liquor, and her striking resemblance to her Grandmother Laila. Sable adores her. She¡¯s the only person she can talk to about how isolated she feels apart from Evie, and how helpless she is to change that. Because she¡¯s the only person to understand how that feels. ¡°Besides,¡± Sable continues, a smirk on her face. ¡°I would think that you are more likely to have problems with alcohol, considering¡­everything,¡± she chirps. His grip on her waist tightens hard enough that she nearly yelps. It¡¯s a well known fact that Silas¡¯ father, Arnold Montgomery, is an alcoholic whose unfaithfulness led his wife to an early grave. She¡¯s nearly tempted to apologize, but his next words dash that desire to bits. ¡°No,¡± he snaps back. ¡°You be mindful of what you say, Sable. If I weren¡¯t marrying you, do you think any other man in this town would? Someone like you?¡± Sable scoffs. ¡°Pretty words coming from someone who practically undresses me with his eyes every time we meet.¡± She can almost hear his teeth gnash together. ¡°You¡¯re only good for two things, Sable. Your money and your body. Please keep that in mind, if you ruin either of those two things, you¡¯ll be nothing.¡± Although Sable acknowledges that the slight about his father was likely too much, such vulgar, nasty comments are also crossing a line. They sting more than she¡¯d like to admit. But she only smiles politely, and says, ¡°I¡¯ll do well to keep that in mind, Mr. Montgomery.¡± The waltz ends. They separate. Sable hurries back to Evie, who hands her the glass of wine. She drinks it in one gulp. ¡°How was it?¡± Evie asks cautiously. ¡°Hellish,¡± Sable replies, now aware of a small slur in her voice. Evie looks sympathetically at her, and Sable finally has had enough. The room is damn hot, Silas is back to dancing with Cornelia, and the genuine sadness in Evie¡¯s eyes makes her want to scream. Sable may be confident, but she has to wonder if Silas has a point. If she truly does barely have any worth. Aside from Evie, her family, and a few polite acquaintances, barely anyone talks to her. Their eyes linger on her, some as if they¡¯re appraising her value, some like Silas do. And Sable is sick to death of it. She turns to Evie. ¡°I¡¯m going outside for air,¡± she tells her. Evie¡¯s brows furrow. ¡°Sable, it¡¯s raining outside.¡± ¡°I need the air,¡± is all she replies, brushing past her friend, walking across the ballroom, and opening the doors to the garden. Despite her head slightly swimming, the moment Sable feels the cool air and the heavy rain on her skin, she finds herself running without looking back. Chapter Two It isn¡¯t until Sable has slipped into the tub of hot water that she realizes following a strange man she has only heard about through rumors likely wasn¡¯t her best idea. Dammit, she thinks to herself, biting a nail, I really do need to stop drinking at parties so much, if I¡¯d been in my right mind¡­ Already the events leading up to him gently guiding her back to his house feel thousands of miles away. And why had he offered to let her come to his house to warm up and wash and repair her dress? Sable cautiously lifts her leg out of the tub. Her ankle is swollen and red, but thankfully not broken. The soaps used for her body and hair smell nice, one like roses and the other like vanilla. She carefully puts her ankle back in the tub and sinks deeper into the waters, until her head is fully submerged. The warmth feels good after being drenched to the bone in cold, icy rain. Even underwater, she thinks she hears the bathroom doors open and her heart skips a beat. She¡¯s naked, taking a bath in a stranger¡¯s home. Damn it, damn it! she curses herself out before quickly lifting her head from the water. The maid who greets her squeaks in surprise. ¡°So-so sorry,¡± she stammers, blinking rapidly. She¡¯s a small freckled girl, but that isn¡¯t what catches Sable¡¯s eye. It¡¯s the large scar that stretches across her cheek. Sable makes sure not to stare at it. As someone who has been on the receiving end of one too many stares in her lifetime, she doesn¡¯t want to impose that same feeling on anyone else. And yet¡­ She remembers the rumors fluttering about the party. The Tearer. If Malcolm Leroux really is the Tearer, it wouldn¡¯t be a stretch to imagine him being abusive towards a maid. The maid softly drapes cloth on a hanger. Sable hadn¡¯t even noticed she was holding anything. ¡°I¡­I brought some clothes,¡± she says. ¡°Gardenia, the secretary, had some clothes to spare, and you two look about the same size¡­¡± Sable blinks. So that¡¯s why he offered to help me here. He did mention a change of clothes, and I wondered how he had women¡¯s clothing. She smiles at the girl. ¡°Thank you.¡± Then Sable reaches out to her. ¡°What happened?¡± she asks worriedly. ¡°Did someone do this to you? Your master?¡± She wants to wince at her words. Of course someone did this to her, nobody could slash up their own face like this, that was so inconsiderate. The girl flinches and backs away for a moment. ¡°N-no, it was quite a few years ago, Mister Leroux would never do this to me!¡± Sable purses her lips. She wants to argue, but at the same time she doesn¡¯t want to alienate the only fully friendly person she¡¯s met at this strange mansion. So she decides not to press the issue, and sinks further into the tub for a moment. The maid bunches her apron in her hands. ¡°Erm¡­Miss Whittaker, may I help you with your ankle? Once you¡¯re done with your bath?¡± Sable nods. ¡°Yes, I do need help. Can you help me get up?¡± The girl nods. ¡°Of course!¡± Carefully, she aids Sable in getting out of the bathtub, making sure not to put too much weight on her ankle. The clothes are a simple nightgown. She doesn¡¯t need to put on a corset or anything, just sit down as the maid wraps up her now dry ankle in bandages. ¡°Mister Leroux says he wishes to speak to you,¡± she says. Sable¡¯s stomach swoops uncomfortably. ¡°Ah. I see,¡± is all she replies, closing her eyes at the horrid memory of her first words to him. In her drunken haze, she¡¯d remembered what Cornelia and Agatha had said about him, and despite the pain coursing through her body, had giggled and sputtered out, ¡°Ah, the demon!¡± Mr. Leroux, to his credit, had taken the rude comment in stride. Although his eyes had glinted oddly, but that was to be expected after such words. ¡°What is your name?¡± Sable asks her. The maid blinks and looks up at her as she finishes wrapping the bandages. ¡°Posy,¡± she replies. Sable smiles as warmly as she can at the girl. ¡°Lovely name.¡± Posy gently guides her to the main room of the house. Already she can smell a fire from the fireplace, and indeed, Malcolm Leroux is sitting next to it in a big chair, reading a book. A pot of tea and a plate of shortbread biscuits sits in front of him. His bright blue eyes flick up as the two women enter the room. Posy quickly bows as best she can, still holding Sable upright. ¡°Mister Leroux, I brought her,¡± she says. Mr. Leroux¡¯s eyes glint, but for some reason, they do not unsettle Sable the way Silas¡¯ eyes do. ¡°Thank you, Posy,¡± he says, snapping the book shut in a quick motion. ¡°You may retire for the night.¡± Posy bows again quickly before helping Sable into a chair and hurrying away. The two sit in silence for a long moment. The warmth of the bath and the fire seeps into Sable¡¯s bones, and she nearly finds herself relaxing into the comfortable chair as he pours tea into her cup. Then Mr. Leroux speaks. ¡°Who told you?¡± he asks, voice cold and business-like. Sable blinks, truly waking up for the first time in hours. ¡°T-told me what?¡± His eyes glimmer darkly. They really can¡¯t be natural, Sable thinks. Nobody¡¯s eyes glow like that. ¡°You know exactly what I mean.¡± Now, she¡¯s starting to feel a dark flush in her face, and she bites the inside of her cheek. Now is not the time to say something rude, he¡¯s a stranger, she has to be on her very best behavior. ¡°Mister Leroux,¡± she begins. ¡°When you found me, I had been running for who knows how long in the rain, all while being tipsy. Forgive me if I can¡¯t recall everything I said to you.¡± He exhales before pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Alright then,¡± he says. Now he leans forward, and Sable resists the urge to lean back far away from him. ¡°Who told you that I am a demon?¡± Sable can¡¯t speak for a moment. And then she laughs. ¡°That is what you want to know?¡± she asks between fits of laughter. Mr. Leroux doesn¡¯t laugh, however. ¡°Miss Whittaker,¡± he says, and now the chill in his voice is only stronger. ¡°Who. Told. You.¡± The coldness in his voice is enough to sober Sable up. She looks at him. ¡°What does it matter?¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s just ridiculous, petty gossip.¡± Mr. Leroux does not seem convinced at all. His shoulders still seem tense. ¡°It does matter, because if that is what people are saying about me, somebody talked. But none of my staff are dead.¡± Dead? Chills erupt down Sable¡¯s spine. Suddenly the brightness of Mr. Leroux¡¯s eyes doesn¡¯t seem as charming, as interesting, as they had before. Once more, she nervously recalls the other rumor about him being The Tearer. I need to get out of here. Shakily, she rises from the chair, wincing as she puts the smallest amount of weight possible on her injured ankle. ¡°Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Leroux,¡± she says. ¡°But I must be going, my parents are likely worried about me.¡± But as she walks towards the open doors leading to the main hallway, they slam shut before her very eyes. Sable can¡¯t help but cry out from shock, nobody had been in the main hall, and the only two people in the main room are she and Mr. Leroux. And neither of them had closed the doors. So who had? In her shock, she steps backwards on her injured ankle, causing a spasm of pain to course through her body. With another cry, she tumbles to the floor. Or she would have, if a pair of arms hadn¡¯t grabbed her before she could fully fall. ¡°Careful now,¡± Mr. Leroux says from behind her. ¡°You sprained your ankle fairly badly. Don¡¯t want to make it worse, hm?¡± Sable can¡¯t even speak as he guides her back to the chair, even lifting her leg to rest on the ottoman, keeping her foot elevated. Her eyes flick back to the door. ¡°How?¡± is all she can croak out. ¡°Well, I closed them,¡± Mr. Leroux says. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± she sputters. ¡°Neither of us were close enough to the door to close it!¡± He smiles knowingly at her and raises his hand, flicking his wrist. The doors open. Sable gasps. He flicks his wrist once more, and the doors slam shut again. Sable doesn¡¯t trust herself to look at him calmly, so she pointedly stares at the doors instead. He closed the door without touching it, he opened it without touching it, how, how?! ¡°I have one more trick up my sleeve, if you don¡¯t believe me,¡± he says, cutting through her thoughts. ¡°What sort of trick?¡± she asks, tilting her head as she looks back at him. Trick could mean anything. Mr. Leroux smiles at her, a soft, warm smile that does not match the chill of the room. He reaches forward, resting one hand on her ankle. Sable feels her face flush deeply. No man has ever touched her bare skin before, aside from her father pinching her cheek affectionately. ¡°What on earth do you think you¡¯re doing-¡± she snaps, only for a sharp blue glow to emanate from his hand, still on her ankle. The blue light seeps into her skin, and her leg feels frozen in place, she couldn¡¯t move it away from him to save her life. The pain in her ankle sharpens for a moment, and she gasps harshly. But then the feeling smoothes and lessens before fully easing away, just as the light fades completely, leaving her skin the same tan as it was before. Sable can only gawk at him as he removes his hand from her foot. ¡°Well?¡± he asks. She blinks, and then wriggles her toes. There¡¯s feeling back in them, and this simple movement no longer causes sharp spikes of pain throughout her foot. Cautiously, she lifts her leg and places her foot back on the ground, putting some weight on it. No pain. ¡°W-what¡­what did you do?¡± she breathes, and her brown eyes make contact with his. He smiles at her as he cocks his head to the side, a stray wave of black hair gliding ¡°What do you think?¡± he asks her. ¡°I healed you!¡± ¡°B-but that¡¯s impossible,¡± she whispers. ¡°Not even priests can heal so quickly, even with Blessed Objects.¡± He crosses one leg over the other, spreading his arms. ¡°Well, I¡¯m no priest,¡± he replies. ¡°Obviously.¡± Sable thinks for a moment, her mind working like a jigsaw puzzle. ¡°The¡­the only others who can heal are¡­not human¡­¡± His smile doesn¡¯t waver one bit. ¡°You¡¯re getting closer, Miss Whittaker.¡± She gulps. ¡°Only¡­angels and demons can supposedly heal someone immediately.¡± His eyes glint that strange blue color, even with the light the fireplace gives off. The demon of Willow¡¯s End. Sable licks her lips. ¡°You¡­no,¡± she chuckles. ¡°You can¡¯t be, can you?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t be what?¡± A nervous laugh escapes her. ¡°Well¡­a demon. You really can¡¯t be one, right?¡± He rests his chin in his hand. ¡°What do you think, Miss Whittaker? You saw me open and close a door without touching it, and your sprained ankle is no longer injured or pained, correct?¡± ¡°R-right¡­¡± That smile is not a smile that belongs to a demon. It¡¯s too warm, too gentle, too human. ¡°Is that not proof enough?¡± Sable¡¯s breath catches in her chest, and she feels glued to her seat. ¡°Y-you¡­¡± she pants. ¡°You really are a demon, aren¡¯t you?¡± He leans forward towards her once more. ¡°Correct, Miss Whittaker.¡± Sable can feel her mind go thousands of miles a minute, faster than any carriage, any blimp, even those new-fangled automobiles. The first words out of her mouth surprise even her. ¡°If you¡¯re a demon¡­¡± she begins. ¡°Can you curse people?¡± Mr. Leroux blinks. Clearly, he had not expected such a question either. ¡°Well¡­yes, I can,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t do it often, however.¡± Sable is the one to lean forward now, a delicious idea brewing in her mind. ¡°And you can make contracts, deals, correct?¡± His smile flutters now, an awkward, boyish grin. ¡°Erm¡­yes, I have contracts with all of my employees here.¡± Sable can¡¯t fight the grin spreading across her face. ¡°I have a proposition for you, Mister Leroux,¡± she says. Those blue eyes flicker brightly, he¡¯s interested, she can sense it. She thought it was only a myth, a rumor, that deals were irresistible to demons. But now she sees how true it is. ¡°What sort of proposition, Miss Whittaker?¡± She leans back, trying to look as commanding as possible as she can in a simple, plain nightgown. ¡°Curse my arranged fiance,¡± she tells him. Oh, those eyes. They truly are proof of his demonic origins. They flicker and waver, sometimes their brightness changes. ¡°Why would I do that?¡± he asks, but the interest in his voice¡­ Sable smiles. ¡°My fiance, Silas Montgomery, is a cruel bastard,¡± she says bluntly, not caring that cursing is unladylike. Mr. Leroux already knows she¡¯s a far cry from a proper lady by now. ¡°I admit, upon first meeting him, I thought he was attractive. But he made his true personality obvious the moment we were left alone to talk. It would be one thing if we were merely incompatible. But he looks at me as though I am beneath him, and he has no consideration for me, even as a fiance. For lord¡¯s sake,¡± she cries, ¡°At our engagement party tonight, he spent much of it dancing with someone else!¡± Mr. Leroux raises his head, understanding. ¡°I see, I see,¡± he breathes. ¡°It sounds to me, you¡¯d rather have a partner, someone of equal standing by your side, rather than being some trophy wife, to be used to look good, to win over others and conquer, only to be pushed to the side behind closed doors, am I right?¡± Sable pauses before nodding. ¡°Yes, yes, you¡¯re right,¡± she admits. ¡°I know such wishes and desires are but a pipe dream in the society we live in, but at the very least, I would prefer a husband who doesn¡¯t so blatantly want to use me, and who tells me to my face that I am nothing.¡± Mr. Leroux¡¯s mouth curls up into a grin on one side. ¡°I do believe we have mutual wishes, then,¡± he says, before snapping his fingers. Sable gasps as a long scroll of paper appears before her, and he places it on the table. ¡°How does this sound?¡± he asks her. ¡°I curse your fiance, and after the engagement is officially called off¡­¡± The fireplace casts a strange shadow upon his face. ¡°Well, you become my companion.¡± She can¡¯t help but blink a moment. ¡°Companion?¡± she asks. He nods. ¡°Of course, we¡¯d have to legally marry, as I doubt your family would approve of you becoming friends with me otherwise.¡± Sable nods. ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°While legally, we¡¯d be considered husband and wife, we¡¯d be more akin to friends and business partners.¡± She blinks. ¡°You¡¯re a businessman?¡± Mr. Leroux nods. ¡°I am. I inherited the original Malcolm Leroux¡¯s hotels, and on my own, I am a private exorcist.¡± Sable stares at him for a long moment. ¡°A demon who¡¯s a private exorcist,¡± she murmurs. ¡°That sounds¡­contradictory.¡± He smiles. ¡°It¡¯s less contradictory than you would believe, Miss Whittaker. ¡°As my wife, you¡¯d help in running the hotels and with my exorcisms. You¡¯d be my confidante, my partner. And I¡¯d be the same to you. I will never look down on you, and you will be treated as my equal, nothing less.¡± Sable¡¯s eyes flick down the contract. It¡¯s true; everything he¡¯s saying is written there. It¡¯s¡­too good to be true. Aren¡¯t demonic contracts supposed to end up benefiting the demon more than the human? This is quite suspicious, as she can¡¯t see any major detriments for either of them listed. Just to be sure, however¡­ ¡°Do you mind if I add something to the contract?¡± Mr. Leroux laces his fingers together. ¡°What would you like to add?¡± he asks. She smiles as politely as she can. ¡°You are not allowed to use magic on me under any circumstances.¡± He blinks. ¡°Even after I healed your ankle?¡± ¡°Not even something like that. It¡¯s nice to have it healed quickly, but¡­well, let¡¯s just say if you can heal me with magic, you can also hurt me that way.¡± His eyes flicker. ¡°I would never-¡± ¡°You say that,¡± Sable interjects, ¡°But spoken promises can easily be broken. I would like it in writing,¡± she says, tapping the paper. Mr. Leroux purses his lips. ¡°Three times.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°I shall add a clause to the contract. I will be able to use magic on you up to three times. When your life is in danger. That is it. If I exceed the use of magic on you, I shall be exorcized back to Hereafter for 1,000 years, unable to return to the human realm until the allotted time is over.¡± His eyes spark darkly, now almost the color of the night sky. ¡°How does that sound?¡± he asks, but his tone is low. Sable has a feeling the question is less a question and more of a final offer. She exhales, leaning back in her chair. ¡°That¡¯s fine with me,¡± she agrees. Mr. Leroux flicks his wrist, and a fountain pen appears between his fingers. He takes the paper and signs his name with a flourish. ¡°And you,¡± he says, handing her the pen. Sable takes one more apprehensive look down the paper, weighing her options. Silas will be cursed, in exchange for her companionship. All in all, not a terrible deal. She signs her name in her best handwriting. Mr. Leroux smiles as he takes the paper. ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, curling the scroll up and up until it vanishes into nothing. Sable nods. ¡°Alright then,¡± she says, and everything just sort of sinks in in that moment. She¡¯s already engaged, but now she¡¯s engaged to a different man, a man she met barely a few hours ago, a near stranger who happens to be a demon from Hereafter. Certainly not how she expected her night to go. Mr. Leroux sighs. ¡°I apologize for my lack of a ring,¡± he says, and Sable erupts into laughter. An engagement ring had been the last thing on her mind. ¡°Quite frankly,¡± she says, ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected to be engaged to not one, but two men by the end of the night.¡± ¡°We must get that taken care of right away, shouldn¡¯t we?¡± Mr. Leroux asks as the grand doors open. A tall, older man walks in. The butler, Sable presumes. ¡°Posy asked me to inform Miss Whittaker that her clothes have been washed, dried, and repaired,¡± he says. Sable gasps as she checks the clock. It is nearly one at night. Good god, her parents must be scared out of their wits! She gets to her feet. ¡°I must be on my way home-¡± she begins, but Mr. Leroux cuts her off. ¡°Miss Whittaker,¡± he says, carefully putting his gloves on. ¡°As your new fiance, I must impose on you once more for tonight, and take you home by my carriage,¡± he says with a smile. Sable pauses and nods. ¡°Ah,¡± she says. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Leroux.¡± He smiles at her. ¡°Now go and retrieve your clothes before we head out. And please, call me Malcolm. We are engaged, after all.¡± Sable reciprocates the smile, albeit more wary. ¡°Alright, Malcolm,¡± she says, and she notices that the light from the fireplace casts a reddish tint to his face. ¡°But only if you call me Sable.¡± He nods at her. ¡°As you wish, Sable.¡± Chapter Three The carriage ride home starts off bouncy. She tells the butler her address, and they set off. The rain has long since ended, but the chill in the air remains. Sable doesn¡¯t know what to say to Malcolm. Aside from Evie, she doesn¡¯t really have friends. And outside of Silas and her father, she¡¯s barely spoken to any men. She¡¯s also clearly never spoken to a demon before today. What do demons even talk about? she thinks to herself, clenching her fists against her now clean gown. Malcolm looks at her, and without even looking at him, she can feel his gaze on her. But his eyes do not make her uncomfortable the way Silas¡¯ do. Silas looks at her like she¡¯s either a piece of meat or some piece of jewelry. In a way, Malcolm looks at her like she¡¯s a puzzle that he can¡¯t figure out. ¡°Not many people would do what you did tonight,¡± he tells her suddenly, breaking the silence. She blinks up at him. ¡°Hm?¡± she asks. ¡°After hearing I¡¯m a demon, most people would be running far, far away, instead of being the ones to offer a contract.¡± Sable smirks. ¡°True, I suppose.¡± ¡°Why did you want to make a contract with me?¡± Sable wants to wrap her arms around her legs, but her cumbersome skirts prevent her from doing so. ¡°Well¡­¡± she begins. ¡°As I said, my fiance is a bastard.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Malcolm replies. ¡°What sort of curse would you like placed upon him?¡± Sable thinks for a moment. ¡°Hm. Well, he has a deep love of money. He¡¯s already inherited his father¡¯s factories, but that isn¡¯t enough for him. That¡¯s why we¡¯re engaged; he wants to own my father¡¯s textile company. ¡°So¡­¡± She leans back. ¡°Perhaps something related to money.¡± Her eyes sparkle. ¡°Oh. He loves to gamble. Maybe a curse that disrupts that. A curse that ruins his factories. Makes it so he can¡¯t make the money he loves so much.¡± Malcolm chuckles. ¡°That¡¯s quite cruel, Sable.¡± She glances up at him. ¡°Judgemental words from a demon,¡± she answers. ¡°Demons are not inherently evil,¡± Malcolm tells her. ¡°That is a mere myth.¡± Sable tilts her head. ¡°So, what are some other myths about demons and angels?¡± she asks him. ¡°Why are they still¡­well, why is their existence still so debated?¡± Malcolm cups his chin in his hands. ¡°Well¡­let¡¯s just say that demons who come to the human realm prefer to blend in as humans. Hereafter is meant to stay mostly a secret. We can divulge some truths about it, but humans aren¡¯t meant to know what happens to them after death. And angels prefer to stay far away from living humans.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Sable says. ¡°I was going to ask about Hereafter, but¡­¡± Malcolm¡¯s jaw tightens. ¡°I am not permitted to tell you about Hereafter. You¡¯ll have to find out about it after you die, the way most humans do.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± she replies. Malcolm¡¯s eyes glint. ¡°You truly are a strange human, Sable,¡± he says. Hearing her first name come from a man¡¯s mouth, a man who isn¡¯t her father or her butler or even Silas, is strange to her. ¡°What do you mean by that, Malcolm?¡± she asks him. ¡°Again, most humans would be pestering me about Hereafter, about what happens after they die, and what demons and angels¡¯ roles are in all of that.¡± Sable shrugs. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to tell me, and I can respect that,¡± she replies. She¡¯s been pestered by too many questions she either doesn¡¯t want to or can¡¯t answer her entire life, ranging from ¡°Where are you from?¡± to ¡°Are you truly Buenavairan?¡± She doesn¡¯t want to bother Malcolm with vexing questions herself. ¡°Besides,¡± she says with a smile. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ll tell me such secrets in your own time in the future, who knows?¡± Malcolm laughs softly. ¡°Who knows, indeed?¡± he asks. The carriage stops, and Sable looks outside to see her manor. She can¡¯t help but gasp; the carriage ride seemingly went by in no time at all. Up until now, only her conversations with Evie have made time feel like liquid. The lights in her manor are still on, and her stomach swoops. Malcolm exits the carriage first, and as Sable makes her way to follow, he offers her his hand to help her out. She takes his hand as she leaves. She has to take a few deep breaths before ringing her doorbell. How on earth is she going to explain this to her family? Father, Mother, I want to break off my engagement to Silas Montgomery. Why? Because I want to marry this man I met only a few hours ago. Although Malcolm has already proven himself to be a better man than Silas could ever hope to be in those few hours, it sounds ridiculous to even her. He looks at her confusedly. ¡°Shall we ring the doorbell?¡± he asks her. Sable swallows, then nods. She presses the doorbell. Footsteps. She already hears footsteps. Olivia is the one to open the door, and she squeaks upon seeing Sable. ¡°M-Miss Whittaker!¡± she cries. ¡°Mr. Whittaker!¡± she calls behind her. ¡°Miss Whittaker is home!¡± She sees Malcolm, and for some reason, she seems to turn ashen the moment her eyes rest on him. Even more footsteps. Sable buries her fists in her skirts. Father and Mother arrive in her line of vision. ¡°Sable!¡± Father cries. ¡°Inside, now!¡± His brown eyes dart up, and for the first time, he sees Malcolm. ¡°Who are¡­¡± he begins, but then she hears more footsteps. To her great displeasure, Silas walks into view. Malcolm smiles politely. ¡°Hello,¡± he says. ¡°My name is Malcolm Leroux. I have some things I would like to ask of you.¡± Silas opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Father says, ¡°Come inside.¡± Father¡¯s expression is unreadable. Sable gulps again as they walk inside. Malcolm waves at Carter. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The doors slam shut. Mother turns to Olivia. ¡°Olivia,¡± she begins. ¡°Please prepare some tea for our guest.¡± ¡°Y-yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Olivia says with a curtsy. She glances at Malcolm once more before rushing off to the kitchen. Why does Olivia seem so wary of Malcolm? Father leads them to the main hall, where Malcolm sits across from the Whittakers. Silas opts for a chair next to them. Mother turns to face Sable. ¡°Sable, what on earth were you thinking?¡± she hisses. ¡°Running away from your own engagement party on a rainy night! Anything could have happened to you, don¡¯t you know that?¡± Sable can¡¯t even meet her eyes. ¡°Mother¡­¡± she begins. ¡°Sable,¡± Father says. ¡°What happened? We understand your behavior is¡­unconventional at times, but this recklessness is beyond even you.¡± Silas¡¯ gray eyes almost look black. ¡°I thought we were having a splendid night,¡± he says. ¡°So why did you run away like that?¡± Sable wants to scream that she ran off to get away from Silas, but she can¡¯t say that, not right now, not while he¡¯s here to lie to her family. All in good time. Unfortunately, Malcolm doesn¡¯t seem to realize. ¡°A splendid time, eh?¡± he asks. ¡°I¡¯m sure you did, Mr. Montgomery, dancing with another woman all night.¡± Sable gasps and Silas glares at Malcolm. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you before tonight,¡± he tells him. ¡°You clearly weren¡¯t at the party, so why do you seek to besmirch my name like this?¡± He scoffs. ¡°What sort of lies did my fiance tell you?¡± ¡°Lies?¡± Malcolm coughs. ¡°I can see it merely by looking at you. Sable has no need to lie to me.¡± ¡°S-Sable?¡± Silas sputters as her family gasps. Sable buries her face in her hands. ¡°Who are you, to call Sable by her first name?!¡± Malcolm smiles, and oh god, Sable knows what he¡¯s going to say before he even says it. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I call the woman I wish to marry by her first name?¡± Silence for a moment. And then a crashing noise makes everyone in the room jump. Sable whirls around on the couch to see that Olivia has dropped the tea set she was carrying. ¡°M-marry?!¡± she cries. ¡°Olivia!¡± Sable yelps, but all Father says is a brusk, ¡°Clean that up.¡± Mother¡¯s eyes are huge, and Silas is red faced. Father seems calm, however. ¡°You wish to marry my daughter,¡± he says. ¡°Explain yourself, Mister Leroux.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Malcolm says, and begins to weave the lie they had concocted before entering the carriage. ¡°A few months ago, I ran into your daughter at Henderon¡¯s Books. I was immediately captivated by her beauty, and upon speaking with her, ensnared by her mind. We¡¯ve been meeting intermittently these past few months.¡± Silas scoffs loudly. ¡°And here you¡¯ve been complaining about my dancing with other women. Sable, you hypocrite.¡± Sable flushes and before she can stop herself, gets to her feet. ¡°At least I had no idea of Mr. Leroux¡¯s intentions before tonight,¡± she snaps. ¡°While you and Miss Bellowes certainly¡­¡± she trails off, her implication clear. She can sense Father stiffen beside her. ¡°Have you been seeing Miss Bellowes during your engagement with my daughter, Silas?¡± ¡°Is that truly an issue here when your daughter has just admitted to doing the same with another man?¡± Malcolm coughs into his fist, but Sable can see the way his lips curl into a smirk beneath the fist. Gooseflesh erupts on her skin. It¡¯s the first time he¡¯s looked even a little demonic this entire night. Father groans, resting his forehead onto his fingers. ¡°Good lord,¡± he groans. ¡°This has gotten very complicated, very quickly.¡± ¡°I beg to differ,¡± Silas snaps. ¡°I think it¡¯s very clear that my fiance has been unfaithful to me.¡± ¡°As have you!¡± Sable retorts. Mother glances at the clock. ¡°It¡¯s nearly 2:30 at night,¡± she says softly. ¡°I do think we are at our wits¡¯ end. I suggest we all go to bed, and gather once more around evening tomorrow when we are well rested.¡± Father sighs. ¡°I must agree with my wife,¡± he says. Silas begins to try to interject, but a simple look from Father cuts him off. Malcolm rises from the couch. ¡°Alright then. I shall return around 5:00 in the evening, is that a good time?¡± Mother nods. ¡°Yes, it is.¡± Malcolm¡¯s eyes flicker once more. ¡°Good,¡± he replies. He walks over to Sable, taking her hand in his. Sable¡¯s eyes widen as he raises her hand to kiss the back of it. ¡°Until tomorrow,¡± he says with a smile. She bites the inside of her cheek, fending off a blush despite herself. ¡°Until tomorrow,¡± she echoes. Malcolm bows towards her family before he leaves. Silas glowers at her before leaving. ¡°We have much to discuss tomorrow, Sable,¡± he spits out as he exits. Mother and Father turn towards her once the two men leave. ¡°I must agree with Silas on this, Sable,¡± Father says. ¡°We have a lot to discuss tomorrow.¡± She sucks in her lips nervously. ¡°Understood, Father.¡± ¡°I take it things went well then, Mr. Leroux?¡± Carter asks as Malcolm enters the carriage. He glances up. ¡°Hmm,¡± he replies. ¡°Is it so obvious?¡± ¡°You¡¯re smiling, sir,¡± Carter says, closing the carriage doors. Malcolm rests his chin in one hand. ¡°Well,¡± he begins. ¡°I was able to successfully curse her fiance.¡± ¡°How was he?¡± Carter asks. ¡°Just as she said,¡± Malcolm replies. ¡°A cruel bastard. He didn¡¯t even bat an eye upon hearing the story we came up with, he automatically believed the worst of his bride to be. Didn¡¯t protest it, not even a little bit.¡± He pauses. ¡°I may have only met Sable tonight, but even I can tell she deserves better than somebody like him.¡± Better than a demon, too. Carter chuckles, and then he starts the carriage. As he rides home, Malcolm thinks. She truly is an interesting human, a strange one as well. Fear didn¡¯t cross her expression once upon finding out his true identity. Instead, she¡¯d simply propositioned him. Usually, he¡¯s the one to offer deals. And her fiance¡­ Malcolm grits his teeth. He truly is a bastard. Even while berating his bride to be, Malcolm could read his expression like a book. He really does see Sable as a piece of meat to use to his delight, only to be discarded once he¡¯s done with her. Men like that¡­ Malcolm grins. Definitely deserve what¡¯s coming to them. Malcolm is more than willing to be their karma. He thinks of something else as well. Sable didn¡¯t even try to bother him with questions about Hereafter, about his role as a demon. How pleasant, to not be pestered with such questions. He sighs. Poor girl, he can¡¯t help but think. She¡¯s escaping one bastard fiance, only to be wed to a demon, of all things. She truly hasn¡¯t the faintest what she¡¯s getting into. The small red haired maid hurries on the cobbled streets, a hood obscuring her figure. Miss Whittaker is being tricked, deceived! Olivia knew the moment she laid eyes on Malcolm Leroux. The sweet girl, the girl who saved her, whom she¡¯s taken care of since she was but an infant, is being tricked. She cannot allow this to happen. She cannot allow her to leave Silas Montgomery for a monster like Malcolm Leroux. One whose eyes are like a predator who has latched onto his prey. She feels shivers race down her skin at the mere memory. Oh, Sable, she thinks to herself. The church is in sight. She hasn¡¯t been here in twenty two years. Will they even remember her? She can only pray they do. She knocks on the wooden door thrice. They slowly open with a loud creak. A tall, dark skinned man answers her. His honey brown eyes widen seeing her. ¡°Sister Olivia,¡± he gasps. It has been two decades since she last saw him. But Olivia recognizes him right away, despite him having been barely eight years old back then. ¡°Brother Hunter,¡± she gasps. ¡°I seek an audience with Father Edmund, I beg of you. The girl I¡¯ve nursed since she was a baby¡­¡± She hitches back a sob. ¡°She¡¯s being deceived by a demon!¡± Brother Hunter looks at her, expression dark and understanding. ¡°Please come inside,¡± he says, and Olivia obeys. The doors swing shut behind her. Chapter Four As always, Sable is awoken the following morning by Olivia opening the heavy drapes in her room, allowing the sunlight to burst in. She can¡¯t help but groan and try to press her face into her pillow like a child. ¡°Olivia, I¡¯m going to rise soon, you don¡¯t need to do that¡­¡± Olivia merely tuts and walks over towards Sable¡¯s bed, and she can sense that the older woman is itching to yank the blankets off of her, exposing her to the cold air. ¡°Miss Whittaker,¡± she sighs. ¡°I have served you since before you could walk. I know you aren¡¯t getting out of bed any time soon without encouragement.¡± Sable groans and flips onto her back. ¡°I understand, I understand,¡± she mumbles, forcing herself to shift out of bed, feet on the floor, stretch. As Olivia guides her into the bathroom for her morning bath and hair brushing, she suddenly begins to ask a question, but before she can, Sable finally sees her beloved maid in full, light view. ¡°Olivia!¡± Sable gasps. ¡°Did you not sleep well last night, your eyes¡­¡± Olivia¡¯s dark circles are even worse than usual today. Olivia briefly brushes her fingers underneath her eyes before smiling merrily at Sable. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about me, dear. Just the usual aches and pains as one grows older.¡± Sable can¡¯t help but suck in her lips. ¡°It sounds as though you need a soothing bath far more than I,¡± she murmurs, but the maid only chuckles. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about me, Miss Whittaker,¡± she replies. ¡°After all, you¡¯ve quite the busy evening tonight.¡± Ah, yes. Sable does have dinner plans with her parents, Silas, and Malcolm. She can¡¯t help but wince as she soothes herself into the bathtub. She has never wanted dinner as little as she does now. Either way, tonight will be not be a pleasant affair. ¡°How well do you know Mr. Leroux, Miss Whittaker?¡± Olivia asks as she brushes Sable¡¯s hair after the bath. Sable tries her best not to flinch. ¡°Ah, well¡­¡± she begins awkwardly. ¡°He¡¯s a very pleasant man,¡± she says. ¡°He¡­listens to me when I speak, and answers thoughtfully. I¡­¡± Olivia sighs. ¡°You don¡¯t know him terribly well, do you, Miss Whittaker?¡± Well, I did only meet him last night. Sable groans as Olivia brushes out a particularly tough knot in her hair. ¡°I may have only known him for a few months,¡± she lies, ¡°But I already know he is a far better man than Silas is.¡± ¡°But Mr. Montgomery comes from wealth, he is a proper gentleman!¡± Olivia protests, and Sable fends off a cruel laugh. Silas, a proper gentleman? How ridiculous! She wants to snort and mock Olivia for falling for his horrid mask, but she stops herself. Hadn¡¯t she nearly been deceived by his mask herself? If he¡¯d only thought to keep up appearances until after they were wed, she would¡¯ve been utterly tricked. But no, he disdains her too much to even put in an effort. ¡°As is Mr. Leroux,¡± Sable replies. ¡°He inherited several hotels from his father, he has plenty of money himself.¡± ¡°I¡­I simply do not like him,¡± Olivia finally admits. ¡°He¡­there is something wrong with him, Miss Whittaker, I know not what, but¡­¡± Sable smiles and pats her maid¡¯s hand. ¡°I trust you, Olivia,¡± she tells her. ¡°But I will not be swayed on this matter. I wish to break off my engagement with Silas, and wed Mr. Leroux instead.¡± Olivia only exhales weakly before whispering, ¡°I do pray for only the best for you, my dear.¡± Sable hides in the library for much of the day, whiling away the hours reading the heavy tomes inside. Too sun, the morning blue turns into the afternoon sky and then begins to shift into the evening sunset. Shortly before 4:00, Olivia walks into the library and leads Sable away to be changed into proper evening wear for dinner. Tonight, her gown is a pleasant shade of green, and her hair is piled into a knot on her head. Olivia tightens the corset too tightly once more. Yet it is not the corset that makes it hard for her to breathe as she walks down the stairs to the dining hall. Her stomach swims, and despite her having barely eaten a single bite the entire day, she feels she could vomit right here, right now. Neither Malcolm or Silas have arrived yet. Sable makes her way to her usual seat, balling her hands into fists beneath the table. Father and Mother arrive just as the doorbell rings, a clear sound even from the main hall. Sable hears footsteps and she can taste bile in the back of her throat. God, her vision is even swimming a little. She¡¯s never been quite so anxious over dinnertime conversation before. ¡°Good evening, Sable,¡± Malcolm says, and she can¡¯t help but gasp and spin in her seat to see him standing right behind her. She¡¯d been so caught up in her anxious thoughts she hadn¡¯t been able to notice him walking up to her. ¡°Mr- Erm, Malcolm,¡± she replies, forcing a shaky smile onto her lips. His blue eyes flick up and down, taking in her outfit. ¡°You look very lovely tonight, Sable,¡± he tells her, and she fights back a blush. She has never craved men¡¯s attention, but compliments such as these are quite alien to her. She¡¯ll need time to adjust to hearing them. ¡°And you look quite dashing this evening, Malcolm,¡± she says back with a genuine smile now, and she watches as he flushes right before her eyes. For a moment, she¡¯s happy for her tan skin; Malcolm is so fair skinned, the red is painfully noticeable on his cheeks. He begins to take the seat next to her, but then Father coughs. ¡°Mr. Leroux,¡± he begins. ¡°Sit across from Sable,¡± he tells him, his deep voice as commanding as a general¡¯s. To Malcolm¡¯s credit, he does not look intimidated nor shaken. He only offers a curt bow and replies with, ¡°If that is what you wish.¡± The clock chimes five times, signaling the time they had agreed on. But Silas is nowhere to be seen. Mother¡¯s eyes flicker towards the clock. ¡°He¡¯ll be here soon, he¡¯s so punctual, as you know.¡± Sable nods, but her grip on her dress only tightens. Is it the curse? she wonders. Has it been cast? With a shock, she realizes she never gave Malcolm exact wording for what she wished, she only mentioned his money. She glances up at Malcolm. He isn¡¯t looking at her, he¡¯s gazing in the direction of the main hall, a faint smirk on his lips. She gulps seeing his expression. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The clock keeps ticking. They all sit in stony silence. Malcolm takes a sip of wine from his glass. Soon, it is 5:30, and Silas Montgomery has yet to arrive. The wine has never looked so appealing as it does now, but Sable knows better than to drink on an empty stomach. Finally, at a quarter to 6:00, the doorbell rings once more, and Phillipe, the butler, goes to answer the door. Immediately a commotion begins. ¡°Move!¡± she hears Silas¡¯ voice holler, strained with rage. Heavy footfalls make their way to the dining hall, and Silas arrives. Sable gasps seeing him. He¡¯s never looked quite so disheveled before. His light brown hair is a tangled mess. His clothes are muddy and torn. His skin is ashen, and he smells faintly of smoke, but not the kind that cigarettes and cigars emit. There¡¯s another smell, a headier one Sable can¡¯t quite identify. He glares at Sable. ¡°What are you looking at?!¡± he spits at her, and then he turns his anger towards Malcolm. ¡°You!¡± he yells. ¡°What the hell have you done?!¡± Malcolm calmly takes another sip of wine. ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest idea what you are talking about.¡± Silas¡¯ face is as red as a tomato. He¡¯s never looked so enraged before. ¡°I know you¡¯re responsible,¡± he seethes. ¡°There¡¯s no other explanation.¡± Father rises from his seat. ¡°Mr. Montgomery,¡± he says. ¡°Calm down and explain yourself. What has happened to you?¡± Silas groans, runs his hands through his hair as he slumps in the seat beside Sable. ¡°Everything all at once,¡± he groans. ¡°One of the factories¡¯ new-fangled electricity circuit boards shorted out, it¡¯s been dead since last night. We¡¯ve lost an entire day¡¯s worth of work.¡± Father sighs. ¡°That is truly bad luck.¡± ¡°That¡¯s barely all!¡± Silas yells. ¡°While I was out¡­I lost much of my savings.¡± Father audibly gasps and Mother slaps her hands over her mouth. ¡°How the bloody hell did you do that?¡± Father demands, and Sable can sense the anger coiled in his words. Father is not one to shout or raise his voice, but she can tell that this news is a tipping point. Silas gulps, and Sable realizes exactly where he was before arriving here, and what the scent is. ¡°You were gambling,¡± she says bluntly, and as he whirls on her, she raises her eyebrows. In an opium den, are her unspoken words. Silas pales at the accusation. ¡°How-why-why would you say such a thing, Sable?¡± he cries. ¡°I am a respectable businessman, I would never gamble, I just made a few bad investments-¡± ¡°Do not lie to me in my own home, Mr. Montgomery,¡± Father snaps. ¡°I¡¯ve known of your gambling habit for quite some time, your father and grandfather had their vices as well.¡± Mother gasps. ¡°Arthur!¡± she cries. ¡°Why would you ever wish for our Sable to wed an addict?!¡± she demands, and Father sighs. ¡°Dear,¡± he begins. ¡°I was under the belief that Mr. Montgomery was not committing the sins of his father. I too enjoy an occasional gamble. I did not see the problem.¡± His eyes flick up and down, taking in Silas. ¡°However¡­¡± he trails off. ¡°You positively reek of opium, my boy,¡± he says, and Silas¡¯ eyes widen, the whites large. ¡°I-I-¡± he sputters. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous!¡± he yells. ¡°I have never set foot in an opium den in my entire life! And how on earth do you even know the smell?!¡± He smirks at Father, as if he¡¯s won. Father only sighs and takes a gulp of wine. ¡°I know because my own father was an addict,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s how he and your grandfather became friends.¡± All the tension seems to leave Silas¡¯ body at once. He nearly drops to his knees from the seat. ¡°Please, Mr. Whittaker,¡± he gasps. ¡°After today¡¯s losses¡­I was desperate to earn them back, that¡¯s why I was there, I swear to you¡­¡± ¡°And how much profit did you earn? And how much did you lose?¡± Silas says nothing. He can barely even look at Father now. But then he flushes with anger once more, and points at Malcolm. ¡°You,¡± he seethes. ¡°I know you¡¯re behind my factory short circuiting, I can take you to court over this.¡± Malcolm shakes his head. ¡°Mr. Montgomery,¡± he says. ¡°My home and all my hotels operate on steam and oil. My cook is deathly afraid of electricity, and out of respect for him, I have yet to use it.¡± He tilts his head to the side. ¡°I know nothing of it. So how could I possibly have sabotaged you?¡± Checkmate. Sable can practically see Silas break into pieces. After Silas is escorted out by the butler they eat dinner. Once the dessert arrives (a lovely vanilla cream cake) Malcolm is invited to Mr. Whittaker¡¯s study to speak in private as Sable and her mother dine. For the first time in quite a while, Malcolm finds himself nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Mr. Whittaker is quite an intimidating man, a few inches taller than him, dark haired and bearded, and certainly stronger than he. It¡¯s ridiculous. A demon anxious over a human. The door to the study closes with a loud bang, and Malcolm winces at the sound. Mr. Whittaker sits behind his grand oak desk, dark amber eyes appraising him. ¡°You truly had nothing to do with Mr. Montgomery¡¯s factory, correct?¡± he asks him. Malcolm blinks. ¡°I did not,¡± he replies, a half-truth at the very best. Of course, the factory could have been a coincidence¡­if it hadn¡¯t been for his rotten luck at the opium den. Those two occurrences are proof that his curse is in effect. But Mr. Whittaker doesn¡¯t need to know about any of that. ¡°Good,¡± he replies. ¡°The last thing we need is for Sable to be treated like some expensive piece of jewelry to be fought over and possessed.¡± Against his will, Malcolm can feel the palms of his hands feel clammy inside his gloves. Sable, a piece of jewelry? The idea¡­the idea doesn¡¯t bode well with him, yet he can¡¯t deny it has some degree of appeal. Her father is silent for a long time, looking over Malcolm once more. Then he finally speaks. ¡°What are your intentions with my daughter?¡± he asks. Malcolm swallows. ¡°I wish to marry her, sir,¡± he says, but the man shakes his head. ¡°I detest liars,¡± he snaps. ¡°My child has many wondrous qualities, however, keeping a secret is not one of them. She has a tendency to act first, and think later. If she had met you, I would¡¯ve known about it.¡± He leans back in his chair. ¡°So why on earth do you wish to wed a woman you¡¯ve known for less than 24 hours?¡± Her father is sharp, as to be expected for a businessman. Malcolm¡¯s shoulders relax. He had thought of this scenario, amongst thousands of others. ¡°It is true I met her last night,¡± he confesses. ¡°And I will not be so bold as to claim I love her. I do not know her well enough. But last night was a good night. We talked for hours, and I tell you, the conversation was one of the best I have ever had. ¡°I do not have parents,¡± he continues. ¡°I have no siblings, either. When I die, all my properties will be for naught. Unless I marry, then I¡¯ll have a wife to pass them on to.¡± Mr. Whittaker¡¯s jaw tightens. ¡°I have not had many friends before,¡± Malcolm explains. ¡°But Sable and I felt an instant connection. Neither of us have much of a desire to marry, but we decided that a marriage of convenience built on friendship would suffice.¡± ¡°And what if she falls for someone later?¡± Mr. Whittaker asks. ¡°Then we¡¯ll divorce.¡± ¡°Society looks down on women who divorce.¡± ¡°And Sable doesn¡¯t particularly care about what society thinks.¡± For the first time, Mr. Whittaker chuckles. ¡°That is very true,¡± he says. ¡°And god willing I¡¯m still alive, I¡¯ll welcome her back with open arms if your marriage is meant to fail.¡± ¡°I hope that doesn¡¯t happen,¡± Malcolm replies with a nervous laugh of his own. ¡°Neither do I,¡± Mr. Whittaker answers, and the two men look at each for a moment. ¡°Do I have your permission to marry your daughter?¡± Malcolm asks, and Mr. Whittaker strokes his beard. ¡°Not quite yet,¡± he answers. ¡°If you two can be engaged for six months without breaking it off, you¡¯ll have my permission.¡± Malcolm nods. ¡°That¡¯s quite reasonable,¡± he says. ¡°But may Sable move into my home for those six months?¡± Mr. Whittaker raises an eyebrow. ¡°And why would she do that?¡± ¡°Well, she¡¯ll need training on how to run a household, and how to help manage my hotels. It takes quite a bit of time to learn all of that, at least it did for me.¡± Her father ponders for a moment. And then he nods his head. ¡°Alright then,¡± he says. ¡°I agree to these terms. But do ask Sable. Once you have her permission, the deal is sealed.¡± Malcolm smiles as he shakes his hand. ¡°It¡¯s a deal,¡± he says. It¡¯s a deal.