Tac returns within five minutes, an antique oil lamp clamped delicately between his teeth, and he slinks out of the kitchen.
“You better not leave glass shards in Emil’s bed,” I call after him.
He thumps up the stairs, followed by a door closing, and I cringe. If Emil asks, I’ll deny knowing how Tac got that lamp. And I’ll also avoid spending the night in Emil’s bed until I’m sure it’s glass free.
Nothing kills the mood faster than a shard of glass in the ass.
At five-thirty on the dot, the front door opens, and I hyper-speed around the kitchen to set the table for dinner.
“Adie?” Emil calls.
I place pasta bowls and silverware down. “I’m in the kitchen!”
His footsteps sound in the family room. “Is Tac with you?”
I dish the pasta into the waiting bowl and top it with the giant meatball. “No, he just went upstairs.”
“I told you that was him on the roof,” Tobias rumbles.
“What?” I yell.
If Tac escaped again, who knows where he’ll get off to this time. It’s still early in the evening, with plenty of people awake in the neighborhood. He’ll expose us to the humans and get us all in trouble.
As I spin toward the archway, the serving bowl slips from my hands. It crashes to the floor, pasta and sauce splattering over the tiles, and the meatball rolls under the table.
“What was that?” Tobias demands, his steps quickening.
But I’m already out of the kitchen, hyper-speeding past the two men and up the stairs to the left of the fireplace.
On the first landing, I fling open Emil’s door, searching his white-decorated room for Tac’s large, black form. Finding it empty, I abandon the doorway and zip up to my room.
Cold air ruffles my hair as soon as I enter, and I zero in on my window. It overlooks the rooftop and straight into Kellen’s room on the opposite side of the house. With winter now firmly set in, I’ve been keeping the shutters closed, but they currently swing free, letting in the crisp November air.
I curse under my breath as I run over to the opening and lean out, searching the backyard for any sign of Tac. If he snuck into the neighbor’s yard again, she’ll file a grievance against us. She already warned us away the last time Tac went into her yard while hunting down an eyeball monster that planned to feed me to its terrifying tentacle master.
Both ours and our neighbor’s backyard lay empty, which equally worries and relieves me.
I glance the other way, out to the street, to check if Tac went that way. I don’t know how many of our neighbors are demons—there were a lot of human kids on the block during Halloween—so finding Tac needs to happen fast. There’s no way to explain away a winged cat as tall as my chest when he stands on four legs.
I lean farther out the window, yelling back, “Did you see which way he went?”
Hot hands grasp my hips, and I yelp in surprise. I didn’t hear Tobias follow me up the stairs, nor did the minimal wards on my room alert me when he crossed my threshold.
He pulls me out of the window, his black eyes fierce. “Stop doing that. You’ll hurt yourself if you fall.”
I puff my cheeks at him. “I have wings, you know.”
His hand smooths possessively down my back. “Not ones you can fly with.”
“Gliding works just fine.” I peer past him, expecting to see Emil, but the doorway remains empty.
“He went out to look for Tac.” Tobias closes the shutters, locking them firmly as if afraid I’ll suddenly dive out onto the roof. “He was worried this would happen.”
My brows pinch together. “He knew Tac would sneak outside again?”
“He suspected. Tac always sleeps a lot right before he goes out to find a mate.” Tobias backs me onto my nearby bed, then crouches to lift my right foot. “Did you cut yourself on the ceramic?”
His obvious concern warms me, and I wiggle my bare toes at him. “No, I’m fine.” Then what he said registers. “Wait, mate? Are there other demon cats like Tac? How often does this happen? Why didn’t Emil warn me?”
Tobias’s thumb rubs my arch, making my toes curl. “Yes, mate. Just like every animal, he has urges to produce progeny.”
I cover my ears. “La la la. Not my sweet baby kitty! La la la.”
Tobias’s dry tone cuts through my singing. “He’s well over a thousand years