Demona moved into a room downstairs. She slept during the day with a radio blaring ("it helps me sleep") and patrolled the house from 10pm to 7am, sometimes having her breakfast at the table while Jennifer and Matilda ate dinner. When Jennifer awoke to footsteps in the night, they were real. They were Demona's soft soled work shoes, not the echoing brogues her aunt used to wear. At first Jennifer just would listen to the soft footfalls and fall back to sleep again. One night when she woke to the footsteps she spoke, still half asleep, "Demona? Is that you?"

"Yes it's only me?"

Jennifer was surprised, her voice must have been barely audible.

"Okay, thank you," she said, and fell asleep again. It became a midnight ritual, if Jennifer awoke, she would speak, then murmur, then whisper, "Demona, is that you?"

And Demona always heard her, "yes Jennifer it's me." If Jennifer didn't fall asleep right away, it was because she took a moment to enjoy the absence of fear, still new to her.

/ -

It may have continued like that for a long, long time, if it hadn't been for the power outage. A tree fell and snapped the power lines next to the house just before sunset. The lights went out and Jenny heard the crash. She went outside to investigate. The day was calm, there was not a breath of wind, just a streak of rot running through the old maple tree. A cross section of the tree had a ring of black staining the golden wood.

When she went back inside Matilda was still happily reading by the natural light in her window sash.

Jenny finished carving her jack-o-lantern, and then contemplated how to make dinner without electricity. The gas hob still worked so Jenny cut up some vegetables for soup. The house was a little too quiet without Demona's radio blaring, Jenny found herself listening intently to the sounds of birds outside, of people walking by the house on the street. It was a warning sign that her anxiety might spike so she tried to absorb herself by pulling esoteric ingredients out of the cupboard. Smoked garlic, truffle oil, pink rock salt.

"I'm calm, I'm safe, everything is fine," she whispered to herself.

When the light began to fade Jenny went searching for candles in the linen cupboard. The spare key to demona's room hung on a hook inside the door, but Jennifer ignored it and reached to the highest shelf for a dusty box of tealights.

That's when she heard it, the sound of something cracking, like a truck driving over brittle concrete, and then a clatter of something sprinkling to the floor.

"Demona? Is that you?" Jennifer said. But there was no response. Where was her yes Jennifer it's me? Instead there was another crack, another impact, like marbles or pebbles falling to the floor. Jennifer's hand fletw to the the spare key, but she hesitated. No she wouldn't invade the woman's privacy over some odd noises. Demona didn't reply because… she's sleeping?

She reached again for the candles. Another crack. This time accompanied by a grunt. Demona was in pain? Jenny froze and listened.

CRACK. And a moan that tapered into a growl that sounded a little like Demona and a little like a wild cat.

Before Jenny could think she'd jammed the key into the lock and flung open the door, and there before her stood? stood? stood…

Jenny's vision fractured. There was Demona's face, turned up, still growling, but there were giant bat's wings framing her shoulders. In the dark, her skin was not pale but blue, from her broad forehead grew two horns that stretched above Demona's tangle of red hair. Then there were the clawed hands, the elongated talons instead of her lower legs, but also the stomach, the breasts, the hips, the… tail…

Demona's nakedness warred with her transformation for prominence in Jenny's mind, and all that was in the second before their eyes met.

Demona's expression changed to shock and confusion, one of her clawed hands shot towards the bed, and the other towards the dresser, and there was a moment where her eyes were locked with Jenny as she fumbled for the objects she wanted. Her need for the necklace on the dresser won and she turned to slip the antique pendant over her head. The room wavered like an image behind a shaking glass of water, and then she was Demona again.

Still naked, but human, she reached for the blanket that was draped over the bed and covered herself.

"Jennifer," Demona said. Her tone was… disappointed?"

"I, I'm sorry," Jennifer said. The woman approached her and Jennifer was overcome with the childish urge to bolt. "I heard you, I thought you needed help?"

"Jennifer," Demona now stood an arm's length from her. And even in that tension, that embarrassment, a silly little voice in the back of Jenny's head said she really is so beautiful. "Jennifer, what you saw was…" Demona paused, and Jennifer braced herself for a lie, or gaslighting, or some other placating explanation. She felt a pang of pre emptive hurt. "What you saw was private," Demona finished firmly.

"I thought,"

"I know, I'm going to get dressed. When I come out you can tell me if you want me to continue working for you or not."

Demona took hold of the door frame and gently closed it in Jennifer's face.