"Knowest thou the nature of thy servant?" said Trashwater.

  "Yes," whispered Sam.

  She was huddled in the bathroom with the rat. He had caught her attention while Lisa worked in one of the only two rooms of her office. Her office was affordable and therefore small. It had two rooms, and an apartment above with two more. There was a bathroom in the office section and a kitchen in the upstairs apartment section, which meant late at night in a drunken stupor, Sam would have to stumble down and back up the stairs in order to relieve herself. She frequently woke slumped over the toilet rather than make the climb back up.

  But the alcohol no longer worked on account of the Elixir of Life. Sam had hoped the effects would wear off with time. She wished she knew what effects the Elixir's contract specified. It robbed her of the ability to become intoxicated with alcohol. It had refreshed her lungs such that she could no longer smoke cigarettes for the coughing fits they caused. She was forced into the habit of cigars because they were not inhaled. Her wounds closed when she slept. She didn't know if the effect was temporary, so she didn't want to come to rely on it. And she would have traded a few beatings for the ability to once again get drunk.

  "When the Great Mother bade me visit thee and confirm for myself her report that thou hast struck bargains with tremendous demons and allowed a young woman to be possessed, I said nay. Not even Samantha is that stupid," Trashwater admonished her.

  "Yet here I stand, basking in thy stupidity. Art thou damaged in thy brain?"

  "Listen, you little rat," said Sam. "I was pushed into an awkward situation. I have been bound not to speak of the terms of said engagement. However, I can assure you that the presence occupying my assistant intends her no harm and only wishes her well, in its own way."

  The rat let out a sigh which communicated both frustration and resigned acceptance.

  "Thou dost what thou wilt," said Trashwater. "But complain not to me when the arrangement goes tits up."

  "Trashwater," said Sam. "I am shocked at you. Such language."

  "I have taken it upon myself to learn more of thy human idioms. This one, in particular, seems to apply most often to thee."

  Sam acknowledged the rat with a nod. She had to admit, more often than not, her situations did go tits up. She wondered where rats go to learn human idioms. Did they have little rat radios in the sewers they turned on and waited for vulgar language to appear? She thought to ask Trashwater.

  "Miss Fontaine?" called out Lisa. "Miss Fontaine, I wonder how you file your records? I cannot find a filing cabinet anywhere on the premises. Also, I wonder if we might acquire a typewriter in case we need to present clients with official correspondence."

  "Dost thou plan to introduce me to thy servant?" asked Trashwater.

  "Just one second, Lisa. Almost done in here," called out Sam. To the rat she said, "Oh good lord, rat. I have no idea. I haven't even thought about how to deal with the demon inside her while she's out there asking me about letterhead. The rest of the business may be beyond her capacity or her ken. What I'm saying is, we shall see, my friend. Now excuse me, I must go attend to my employee."

  "Say not thou wert not warned," said Trashwater. "Farewell, Samantha."

  Samantha flushed the toilet to convince Lisa that she had spent her time in the bathroom doing normal bathroom things rather than speaking to a talking rat. She stepped out.

  "Lisa," began Sam, "I fear you may be expecting a level of sophistication which my practice has yet to reach. I have had precious few clients since beginning my investigative practice. One of whom was a ten-year-old girl looking for a lost dog. Now, she did offer to pay me a silver. We have not yet had the opportunity to correspond with clients. You are my first employee and I do wish to provide you with everything you need. As such, I will acquire a typewriter for you. However, I fear you may use it less often than you'd think."

  Lisa had spent her first week or so working with Sam mostly cleaning the office. At night, she would prepare herself a meal and share it with Missy. She was not expected to be a mother or babysitter to the young girl. Since they did occupy the same large house together and had no one to talk to in the evenings, Lisa had taken to reading her stories before bed. She also ensured the young girl was clean and well kept before sending her off to school.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Missy, for her part, was thriving. She spent afternoons and evenings with Rex. She passed time building and tending the fire in the tremendous fireplace. The girl's resilience was remarkable. By Lisa's account, she slept most nights all the way through, woke up crying only once, and to Lisa she never mentioned her mother. In the intervening weeks since the girl's mother was eaten by rats, Sam had only visited her twice: once to provide some food and another to check and see how she was getting on. She had brought Lisa by during the day while Missy was at school. Only Rex was there to greet them.

  Sam put visiting the Smith house on the list of tasks she aimed to do. The list was growing quite long. She decided to tackle one of them now that she had an employee eager enough to engage in it.

  "I do have a project for you, Lisa," said Sam.

  Lisa had snuck back into her house during the workday when her father was away and her mother was out shopping. She had gotten most of her clothes and any possessions with emotional or financial value and brought them over to the new house.

  She was shocked to see the size of the house, assuming Sam had meant something far less grand. When she asked Sam why she wasn't staying in the mansion, Sam's response was more of a grunt than an explanation. When pressed, Sam said only that she had work to attend to and couldn't travel so far at night. Sam felt uncomfortable being in a large house with the young girl whose mother she was partly responsible for killing. But that was only part of her discomfort. The reality was she didn't know how to be around a little girl and didn't want to be mistaken for a foster mother.

  Lisa, now excited, said, "Of course, Miss Fontaine. What can I do for you?"

  "Well, Lisa, the way I see it, we need to advertise our services. We need to let the people of the city know that there is a private investigator that will not charge them an arm and a leg, the way a diviner would. A service which the common man and woman may engage to have problems resolved, mysteries solved, exorcisms performed, and the like. Therefore, I charge you with the task of creating a newspaper advertisement for us. You'll have to let me know the rates, as I am not aware of such things myself, and you'll have to come up with the copy for said ad on your own, as once again, this is outside of my area of expertise."

  The young woman, now charged with purpose, seemed pleased to be doing something other than studying the few textbooks she had gathered in preparation for starting school in the spring. She set about her task, phoning local newspapers to see about rates. It all seemed to be going swimmingly when Sam heard footsteps coming from the second room.

  She turned, and there in the doorway to her office stood a man. The dim light in her office showed his eyes were narrow slits like a snake. Sam readied herself for an attack. Lisa, from her chair, stood up. Her face twisted in a grimace. Sam spared a moment to admire the girl's temper. She was unafraid. Having been attacked only a few days ago, Sam would have assumed the young woman would be terrified to be attacked once again, especially in a place she considered safe.

  The serpent-eyed man stepped forward. In both hands he carried daggers. His eyes flickered back and forth between Lisa and Sam, as if he hadn't expected to see two women in the office. His hesitation only lasted for a split second. He sprang towards Sam, slashed his dagger at her waist, and stabbed the other one at her neck. She twisted and rolled away, managing to avoid both attacks.

  That's when the temperature of the room rose. Lisa's grimace turned into a sneer. Her teeth sharpened to points. Her skin reddened, dark and shining in the light. Horns sprouted from her head. And this time, even a few hairs of a beard sprang from her chin like the wisps of a teenager's first few hairs before learning to shave.

  "Samantha," said Haborym the Firebrand. "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend, or am I going to have to introduce myself?" The demon's thick, deep voice came from Lisa's throat. "You know, I didn't expect to have to fulfill some of the terms of our agreement so soon. It's only been a few days, and already here I am to protect you."

  The attacker whirled to face Lisa. The transformation had only taken a moment and happened while the man was focused on killing Sam. He spared only a second focusing on this new threat before he turned his dagger back on Sam in another attempt to take her life.

  "Oh no, no, no, no," said Haborym. "You are in my presence. I shall dance with you."

  Haborym stepped forward slowly. Below Lisa's skirt, Sam could see the skin of her legs had also turned red. Her blonde hair now spilled back between the horns.

  The would-be assassin finally accepted that he was not going to be able to directly target Sam until the new threat had been dealt with. He sprang forward, attempting to drive his daggers into Haborym's chest and neck. Haborym casually swiped his hand before the attacker's face. Both knives clattered to the ground. The smell of burning flesh assaulted Sam's nose. Smoke curled up from the stumps where his hands used to be. He looked down, eyes wide, then tried to run back the way he came.

  "Where are you going?" growled the demon.

  Haborym moved quickly this time, grabbing the back of the man's hood and pulling him close. He pulled the man's head back and smiled at Sam. He turned his back so that Sam could not see what happened next. A yellow glow came from where Haborym and the attacker's faces almost touched, as if in some twisted embrace.

  The man cried out with a raspy voice. He screamed the only word he had spoken since he made his initial attack. "No!" His voice cut off. The glow faded and the body dropped. Once again smoke filled the small office space. The corpse's face and most of his head had been burned away. Only char and ash remained.

  Haborym turned back around to face Samantha.

  "Well," said he. "Your life is certainly a pile of fun. I do look forward to you trying to discover who this little fucker is. And I wonder how you're going to explain this to Lisa."

  His smile faded as Lisa's skin returned to normal. The black eyes closed. Lisa slumped to the ground.

  "Well, shit," said Sam.