Cold Days (The Dresden Files #14) - Jim Butcher Page 0,85
has planted a spell to listen in on you,” I finished. “And I wanted Lara’s people to know who I contacted. When they try to follow up on it, they’ll betray their presence and he’ll be alerted to how they operate.”
“It was a payment,” Thomas said.
I shrugged. “Call it a friendly gesture.”
“At my sister’s expense,” Thomas said.
“Lara’s a big girl. She’ll understand.” I considered things for a moment and then said, “Everyone be cool. Something might happen.”
Thomas frowned. “Like what?”
“Cat Sith!” I called in a firm voice. “I need you, if you please!”
There was a rushing sound, like a heavy curtain stirred by a strong wind, and then, from the fresh, dark shadows beneath Thomas’s dining table, the malk’s alien voice said, “I am here, Sir Knight.”
Thomas jerked in reaction, despite my warning, and produced a tiny semiautomatic pistol from I knew not where. Molly drew in a sharp, harsh breath, and backed directly away from the source of the voice until her shoulder blades hit a wall.
It was just possible that I had understated how unsettling a malk sounds when it speaks. I’d clearly been hanging around creepy things for way too long.
“Take it easy,” I said, holding a hand out to Thomas. “This is Cat Sith.”
Molly made a sputtering noise.
I gave her a quelling glance and said to Thomas, “He’s working with me.”
Cat Sith came to the edge of the shadows so that his silhouette could be seen. His eyes reflected the light from the almost entirely curtained windows. “Sir Knight. How may I assist you?”
“Empty night, it talks,” Thomas breathed.
“How?” Molly asked. “The threshold here is solid. How did it just come in like that?”
Which was a reasonable question, given that Molly didn’t know about my former cleaning service and how it had interacted with my old apartment’s threshold. “Beings out of Faerie don’t necessarily need to be invited over a threshold,” I said. “If they’re benevolent to the inhabitants of the house, they can pretty much come right in.”
“Wait,” Thomas said. “These freaks can walk in and out whenever they want? Pop in directly from the Nevernever? And you didn’t tell us about it?”
“Only if their intentions are benign,” I said. “Cat Sith came here to assist me, and by extension you. As long as he’s here, he’s . . .” I frowned and looked at the malk. “Help me find the correct way to explain this to him?”
Sith directed his eyes to Thomas and said, “While I am here, I am bound by the same traditions as would apply were I your invited guest,” he said. “I will offer no harm to anyone you have accepted into your home, nor take any action which would be considered untoward for a guest. I will report nothing of what I see and hear in this place, and make every effort to aid and assist your household and other guests while I remain.”
I blinked several times. I had expected Sith to hit me with a big old snark-club rather than actually answering the question—much less answering it in such detail. But that made sense. The obligations of guest and host were almost holy in the supernatural world. If Sith truly did regard that kind of courtesy as the obligation of a guest, he would have little choice but to live up to it.
Thomas seemed to digest that for a few moments and then grunted. “I suppose I am obliged to comport myself as a proper host, then.”
“Say instead that I am under no obligation to allow myself to be harmed, or to remain and give my aid, if you behave in any other fashion,” Sith corrected him. “If you began shooting at me with that weapon, for example, I would depart without doing harm, and only then would I hunt you, catch you outside the protection of your threshold, and kill you in order to discourage such behavior from others in the future.”
Thomas looked like he was about to talk some smack at the malk, but only for a second. Then he frowned and said, “It’s odd. You sound like . . . like a grade-school teacher.”
“Perhaps it is because I am speaking to a child,” Cat Sith said. “The comparison is apt.”
Thomas blinked several times and then looked at me. “Did the evil kitty just call me a child?”
“I don’t think he’s evil so much as hyperviolent and easily bored,” I said. “And you started it. You called him a freak.”