Page 156 of The Demon's Pet

In the morning, I got dressed and ready and headed out into the courtyard behind the cathedral.

There were overgrown weeds and grass and trees around the edges. But in the center, there were flat paving stones making up a large standing area.

To the back right, there was a worn-looking shack, and Sam had said that was where I’d be going.

Because he had some things to take care of at the sanctuary, he’d stopped by early this morning to tell me to head over to the smith.

Presumably, some new pets were coming in. I hoped I could get dibs on that unicorn.

I tromped through the weeds, noting the moody, cloudy sky and the fog hanging low over the ground.

When I reached the shack, I walked up to the old wooden door and knocked.

I heard it creak as it was pulled open, so whoever it was had been waiting.

To my utter shock, it was the face of the void walker Sam had “executed.”

How could he be here? I’d seen his blood go everywhere. He had to be dead.

I gaped at him, and he smiled.

“Surprise,” he said, sticking out a hand to shake mine. His dark eyes sparkled with his smile. “I’m Nic. Thank you, by the way. If you hadn’t begged him like that, I doubt he would have freed me.”

“Hi… Nic.” It was hard to even speak, seeing someone I thought was dead. “I—I saw him stab you.”

“Come in, dear. You’re wasting heat, and I’m in the middle of forging,” an unknown voice called out.

My eyes widened as the void walker pulled me in, and I looked around a room that was much too big to fit in the space the shack took up. “What in the…?”

“It’s enchanted,” a stocky person with gray hair and a black leather apron said, facing away from me. “Sam put an illusion on the outside so it looks smaller than it is. People only walk around to this door, so they don’t notice.” The person was currently hitting something on an anvil, and a fire was glowing in a nearby forge contained within the stocky stone hearth.

The room wasn’t as warm as one might expect, and I assumed that was due to an enchantment as well.

“I’m a metal mage,” the person said, finally taking off their welding helmet. As they turned to meet me, I realized she was a woman in her late sixties or early seventies in human age, with gray hair lit with white strands. Her face was heavily lined, and her light-blue eyes, diffused from age, sparkled as they looked over at me.

“Name’s Betty. Betty Silver. Nice to meet you.” She put out a weathered, calloused hand, and when I put mine out, she shook it firmly. Then she held on to it tightly, jerking me forward to look into my eyes. “Hm. Interesting.” Her eyes wandered down to my collar. “Even more interesting.”

“Why?”

“May I?” she asked, pointing at my collar.

I hesitated for a moment, because Sam had implied there might be danger if I removed it, but the frank look in her blue eyes assured me, and I nodded.

She took it, unbuckling it carefully and lifting it away, staring at it with narrowed eyes. Off of my neck, the stone was no longer yellow but dark brown.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I have to examine this.” She walked to a nearby desk, pulled out a chair, and grabbed an odd-looking pair of glasses that would probably help her magnify what she was looking at.

Though, for all I knew, they had another purpose as well.

“So,” I said, looking at the void walker. “How are you alive? I saw your blood everywhere.”

“Not my blood,” Nic said, brushing his black hair off his pale face. “You must have convinced Sam to spare me at the last minute. When he put his wings around the cage, he said he was going to use an illusion so they didn’t notice the cage opening. He told me to come here.”

I gaped. Just how good were Sam’s illusions? “How was there blood, then? Was that an illusion too?”

“No, the red slayer sword Sam carries has the capacity to store the blood of those it kills and release it at will,” Betty called to us from where she was sitting. “It helps us fill up the blood stores here and also helps him fake executions as needed. Those stupid death-loving celestials haven’t noticed yet, and I doubt they ever will.” She shook her head. “I still don’t approve of him working with them.”

“Did you make his sword for him, then?” I asked. “I thought he stole it off some slayer he killed?”

---