The attic was a vast hushed cathedral, relatively warm in winter since the house below let its heat rise. Shrouded monster-shapes of furniture lurked in ghostly rows—even here, Amelia’s ruthless organization showed, except for the far northeastern corner. Maybe she’d deliberately left it alone, affection displayed through silence and restraint.
The familiar smell of dust and discarded lumber filled his nose; Jack took his demie’s hand again, leading her through the maze. Having her here in the flesh was both unsettling and a powerful comfort; small shafts of grey winterlight from tiny shuttered windows gave just enough illumination for a Kith to avoid obstacles. “Those stairs are the easiest way up,” he said, quietly. “I’ll show you the others later; I used to do this all the time. Hide,
