It came to a stop. Joseph took note of the direction the sheath’s end pointed. “Thank you.”
“It’s your trick,” the companion said. He let the sheath fall, extending the knife, and the sheath slid into place over the blade. “I’m only borrowing it.”
But you can do it without anybody noticing. “Thank you all the same.”
The sheath was handed back to Joseph. He put it away before anyone could take notice.
“What do we do when we find them?” the companion asked.
“Them? Who was it you just looked for?” Joseph asked.
“I assumed you wanted to find him before anything else.”
“I thought we’d find her, talk to her, and leave.” Joseph said.
“Did you?” the familiar asked. “Yet you brought me. You bound me as your familiar knowing full well what your mission here would be.”
“Yes. Rescuing her. Your… talents, they’re a just-in-case measure. Nothing more.”
“I am a murderer, Joseph. I can pretend to be many things, but when you take off the mask-”
The bogeyman raised a hand to his face.
“Don’t,” Joseph said. “Not here. People will notice.”
“As you wish. Take off my mask, and I’m a monster. Your mind is sound, you knew what I was, you knew what you were doing when you reached out to me and offered a position as familiar.”
“I liked you.”
“You’re telling the truth, of course, but who was I, then? You knew that the complete picture was monster and mask. I was playing a role, in part. I was a factory worker with gentle hands, genial, a father. You knew my friendliness was borrowed, the natural charm and kindness taken with the face, and you could peer past the act when even his family couldn’t. You still made the offer.”
“I suppose I did,” Joseph conceded.
“But now you waver, my friend. You lack conviction.”
“No. I have never felt more certain about what I do.”
“You feel certain about why you do,” the companion said. “You follow your heart. But what you do? You bound yourself to a murderer because you knew you might need a specific someone murdered. Let’s not pretend we aren’t going to run into him.”
Joseph frowned.
His stretched expression as placid as it could be, hands folded behind his back, the companion walked alongside him. He’d said his piece.
“Does it bother you?” Joseph asked. “The idea of returning to murder?”
“Not at all.” As if to reassure, his companion smiled. It had the opposite effect.
“You didn’t take any compunctions or guilt when you took the man’s face?”
“I don’t know if I can. It hasn’t ever come up, frankly.”
“I see.”
“You’ve decided that you’ll be using me, then?”
“I suppose I have.”
“Excellent,” the companion said. “I was wondering if I might need to coax you into it.”
“Are you eager?”
“No. But I made promises to assist you. If it comes down to it, I’ll force your hand to see those promises through.”
“That so?”
“Just so, my friend.”
“And how would you coax me? Or force my hand?” Joseph asked.
“By telling you that she and he are in the same place,” his companion replied. “Nothing has changed.”
The news hit Joseph like a slap in the face.
“You’re a right bastard sometimes,” he said.
“Yes,” the companion said. “You asked, I answered. When I agreed to the deal, I agreed to be your servant and confidante. The only lies I tell you will be for your own good.”
“That’s all I ask for,” Joseph said.
His companion smiled, a contrast to Joseph’s own stoic expression.
“Shall we point them out again?” the companion asked.
“No. I can sense them.”
“Very good.”
The building was a proud one. White, with columns at the front, gardens well tended, trees trimmed. No single individual could have looked after it alone, much less look after it so well.
They kept walking until they had crossed the street. Joseph reached into his coat. When he withdrew his hand, he dashed blinding powder in a half-circle around him.
The powder expanded rather than dissipate. A rolling cloud.
Along the length of the short side street, people coughed. They would see it as smoke from one of the nearby factories, fumes from the automobiles, or something of the sort.
One by one, they found a reason to leave.
“Expensive magic,” the companion said. “Manipulating people to this extent.”
“I’ve been preparing for this day for some time,” Joseph said, not taking his eyes off the door. He drew his knife-sheath from his pocket.
Nobody emerged from the house.
If it weren’t for his third eye, Joseph might have thought they weren’t inside.
“Will you go knock?” Joseph asked.
“Of course.”
Joseph remained where he was, knife in one hand, sheath in the other.
His companion knocked.
The door swung open, and a violent noise sounded. The blast of a gun. The bogeyman was lifted off his feet by the force of the shot, knocked down the stairs.
The creature rolled on the ground, groaning in pain.
The man from within the house stepped outside, a rifle in hand. He wore a vest with no jacket, his mustache was curled, his hair graying.
“Ah. The boy,” he said.
“Where is Hester?” Joseph asked.
“Inside,” the man said. “Where she’ll stay.”
“It’s not right, you… what you do with her.”
“What do I do?”
“Keep her prisoner, possess her.”
“I do what men have done since time was first recorded.”
“That doesn’t make it right, Mr. Canfield.”
“It makes it reality,” Canfield said. “It seems you’ve brought a knife to a gunfight.”
“Are we fighting?”
“You tell me. Maybe I have the wrong idea, boy. Could be you’re holding on to that knife because you have another use for it. Loose thread on your jacket need a slice, hm? Are you going to tell me it’s something like that? That you were just stopping by to ask how my daughter was doing, and then you were going to skip along and do whatever boys your age do these days?”
“I was, but I was intending to leave with her.”
“I’m older, boy. More learned. Better armed. I have more power, more contacts to lean on. I’m in good with the Lord of Toronto. This isn’t the fairy tales. This damsel isn’t in trouble-”
“She is,” Joseph interrupted.
Canfield shook his head. “No. She’s safe. She’s in my care, where she’ll stay. Any misguided hero who arrives to carry her away is liable to get filled with pellet. If they live, they get a beating too. The hero doesn’t win by any rights, boy. There are no happier ever afters.”
“I never aimed to be a hero,” Joseph replied.
“No? Is that why you’ve bound yourself to this… thing?”
The older man nudged the bogeyman’s head with the toe of one boot. The creature recoiled, writhing in pain.
“It’s a part of it.”
Canfield stepped over the bogeyman’s body, gun pointed at Joseph.