Eleanora woke up in a cold sweat and tried to sit up when she almost vomited. There was a ghastly taste in her mouth and her stomach was writhing around, as if she had been force-fed something horrible.
She was in the butler's—the demon's—room. She was lying on the bed, but it didn't look as if there was anyone else around. She examined herself; her left arm had been properly bandaged but she didn't look as if she had been assaulted. There were three things on the bedside table: a half-filled bottle of medicine (which explained the taste in her mouth), a bowl filled with cold water where rags were soaking, and a covered plate, which contained soup.
The rag on Eleanora's forehead fell off and she put it back in the water bowl. Then she slowly rose up, put her shoes back on, and then quietly left the room. Where would she go? She didn't know. Probably back to her room. But what would she do about the demon? She couldn't fight him. She couldn't beat him at anything. The best she could hope to do was avoid him. But how long would that last? She couldn't avoid him forever. She worked with him—hell, she was married to him! But then what was she going to do? She needed an expert on demons—a real expert. And then she remembered where to find one.
To get outside she would have to pass the kitchen. The demon and the Undertaker were playing some kind of game in there—the oddest game she had ever seen. It was something like chess—and something like checkers—and something like poker. Eleanora pressed against the wall, as close to the shadows as possible, and tried inching her way across, listening to their conversation.
"You should have told her earlier," the Undertaker said.
"I didn't know that she would find out so quickly," Sebastian said.
"You should have assumed the worst."
"If everyone assumed the worst, nothing would ever get done."
Silence. Eleanora stopped and held her breath, waiting for them to continue talking so that she could use their voices to muffle her footsteps.
"She cut the contract out," Sebastian said quietly. "Why did she do that?"
"Who knows?" the Undertaker sighed. "A man can never tell what a woman is thinking."
Sebastian scoffed.
Eleanora didn't hear what he answered, because by that time she had passed the kitchen and was able to run outside.
