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Now that he was up close, Rossa could see that the cat was absolutely the size of a dog. It was unsettling—little fangs poking from the corner of its maw making it look more beast than pet.
Rita raised her penciled eyebrows and tapped some dead gray into a crystal ashtray, silent a moment. “They’re an impractical and dangerous cure for stress, but we take the small things while we can still get them.�
You sit there in the quiet for a while, watching the movement of his feathers and bones, glowing with your new gifts. He’ll turn your fingers back to normal soon, won’t he? Of course he will. You’ll have to cut your hair and burn it so no one notices it’s happened, but for now, you are magnificent and strong, a baby monster at his feet, growing from his power, the fear ebbing and flowing in you like a cosmic sea.
What is it about this house that eats cries for help?
You, the girl, and he the great and terrible interdimensional beast. Tale as old as time.
