Eloise was walking to the foyer, still reeling from her encounter with Alice and Fran Lutece, when a shock of red came flying up the staircase towards her. She knew the object galloping in her direction was vaguely human shaped, but was so overwhelmed by the speed with which he approached her she was certain this was another demon. “Hi!” She blinked, and the boy had come stumbling to a halt before her. “Hi, how are you? Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, fine yes,” she replied, bombarded. The boy - young man, really - was disheveled and covered in bandages, but his smile was broad and his brown eyes shone. “I’m-”

“Eloise. Hi, I’m Rufus.” He shoved his hand towards her, and she took it. His grip was as firm as he was enthusiastic. She expected him to jerk her hand so hard it broke off, but he was astonishingly gentle with his shake. “Where are you from?”

“Um . . . Earth?”

“Me too! Though probably not the same earth. There’s a lot of earths.” He released her, then gestured towards the stairs. “Come on, breakfast is ready! Or lunch, really. You slept a long time.” He darted for the steps, and all she could do was follow.

“What time is it?” she asked. She hadn’t even thought to look. The twins had taken her completely by surprise.

“Past one. Don’t worry, we don’t really have a set schedule. Nothing you gotta adhere to.” He took the steps two at a time, but waited for her at the bottom when he realized she wasn’t quite so eager. “We’re gonna get you fed, then dressed, and I’ll just show you to all the people you really oughta know here.”

Eloise felt like she was on display. Only Rufus was visible, but it was like a million eyes were watching her. All she needed was thumping music and strobe lights and she’d be in the club again, sweating and terrified everyone could see that she wasn’t dancing. Following Rufus to the kitchen wing, she left behind the image in favor of confronting something a little less stressful.

When she’d looked inside the massive kitchen the day before, she hadn’t noticed the entire dining area connected to it. Rufus led her through the door she’d only initially leaned through with the Headmaster, then followed him across the tile to a carpeted hall where lunch items were set down the length of the great wooden table. “Wow,” Eloise whispered as she beheld the spread.

Rufus came upon the brown-haired, doe-eyed young man the Headmaster had introduced as Elliot. Elliot looked up at their presence, apron splotched with various condiments. He appeared to have mustard smeared from the small patch of beard on his chin up to the middle of his cheek. When he grinned, the yellow streak dimpled. “Hey! It’s the new girl,” he said cheerily.

Eloise’s face grew hot and her mouth opened. Before she could speak, Rufus was stepping up to the plate for her. “This is Eloise. Here for some of that good stuff.”

“Help yourself, everything’s usually served buffet style. Grab what you want, sit where you want, the dishes will get back to me one way or another.” He gestured to the platters upon platters of sandwiches. Roast beef and provolone, ham and American, turkey and cheddar on rye, wheat, white. Bowls with various mustards sat ready to be spooned onto the bread, home fried chips sat ready to be consumed.

Eloise’s mouth watered, but before she could reach for anything someone slithered past her, bumping into her shoulder. “Fresh meat?” a classic, breathy voice whispered. Eloise watched the new arrival, a voluptuous woman with long, thick, outrageous red hair and bronzed skin, sidle up to the table and snag up a roast beef and provolone on rye. Turning to face Eloise, the woman fixed her with a predatory sea green gaze. Eloise blinked, and somehow the entire sandwich disappeared down the woman’s throat. Pillowy lips parted, and a forked tongue flicked out to tease the newly emptied, painted fingertips. “Been a while since we had someone new.” Her words lingered on the S’s, and Eloise had to fight back a shudder.

“This is Saoirse,” Rufus said, a little less confidence in his voice.

Saoirse hummed as Eloise took her in, from her knee-high Chuck Taylor’s to her short shorts and flannel shirt. The entire woman looked mismatched and cartoonishly colored, but her circular face and wild eyes were captivating. “You’re a pretty one,” she said, raising her chin as she also took Eloise in. “I’ll play nice,” she tilted her head and gave a sharp grin, “for now.” Saoirse grabbed up another sandwich and slunk away.

Eloise’s skin crawled as she brushed past. She glanced to Rufus and Elliot, gauging their reactions before she spoke. When she saw they were looking at her in much the same way, she cleared her throat and said, “She seems interesting.”

Elliot let out a smile and a chuckle as Rufus sighed. “She’s a piece of work,” Rufus said.

“Don’t let her scare you,” Elliot assured.

“Or do. She’s . . . anyway,” Rufus picked up a sandwich and got ready to spoon some mustard. He nearly dropped the spoon on the table, just barely catching it but losing a stream of yellow on the counter. “Dammit! I’ll clean-”

“No, I’ll clean it. You eat it.” Elliot said, waving his hand non threateningly. “Eat, Ellie. Can I call you Ellie?”

“Sure,” she said, covering up the image of Saoirse’s stare with some ham, American, and white with mustard.

She wasn’t sure where she and Rufus found the room, but it felt like they took out an entire platter of sandwiches. They didn’t of course, and Eloise had to find the energy to follow the still much too excitable teen up the stairs to one of the rooms. “This here’s my room,” he pointed out as he passed the door, “and right next to it is the coven.” He knocked on the coven’s door twice.

The door cracked open and a brown-skinned face with black peach fuzz lining their cheeks and chin stuck out. “What’d you do now?” they asked, dark eyes scanning Rufus suspiciously.

“Pippin, this is Eloise. Eloise, Pippin.” Rufus stood back to introduce her to them.

“Oh,” Pippin said, stepping out and letting Eloise get a full view of them. Everything about them was petite, from their feet to their head. Pippin’s hair was waist-length and braided, a black kerchief holding the thickly woven locks back. “Nice to meet you,” they said without smiling, holding out a gloved hand. The fingerless gloves were black, as were the rest of their clothing. Eloise shook the offered appendage as Pippin said, “Call me Pippin or Pippa, but if I hear the words Pippy Longstockings leave anyone’s mouth I’ll kill them.”

Eloise eyed their skinny jeans. “You’re not even wearing stockings.”

“Better remember that, too.” Pippin’s hand dropped from hers. “Rufus is a regular here. You gonna be a regular too?”

“This is the manor pharmacy and doctor’s office,” Rufus clarified.

“Oh, then no. I hope not,” Eloise responded.

“Good luck with that. He’s a jinx.” Pippin started to dip back into their room. “If you need anything, just knock.”

The door shut, and Rufus was leading Eloise back to his room. “Not much on bedside manner, are they?”

“They’re cool. Just blunt,” Rufus said as he gripped the doorknob. “The other two are much sweeter.”

“Coven. That’s right.” Eloise followed Rufus into his room, which was similarly shaped to hers. It was less like a hotel room and more lived-in, however. The colors were grungier, darker. The room seemed almost dreary with its twin bed and business desk. She eyed the desktop computer, a web browser open on a series of videos and outlines she assumed was schooling. “Why’d you bring me here?”

A door slammed behind her, Eloise jumping out of her skin. She whipped about, looking for a lamp to throw, but settling for the wireless desktop keyboard. She held it up like a club as she faced the closet, the source of the sound. “Jesus, Renan!” Rufus shouted as a horned, shadowy figure with glowing, pink eyes stepped further back into the closet.

“What’s going on?” Eloise snapped as the pink glow dimmed, and the figure disappeared in the dark.

“It’s okay, I swear.” Her white-knuckled grip on the keyboard didn’t falter even as Rufus held up his hands to try and calm her. “Renan is the manor’s tailor.”

Eloise’s heart rammed inside her chest. “The tailor’s a fucking demon?”

“Language.” The voice boomed inside the room, deep and reverberating. Eloise’s knees buckled under her.

Rufus caught her by the elbow before she fell, but he quickly retracted his hand as he beheld her glare. “Renan’s not that kinda demon.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s a nice guy,” she rebutted, throat dry.

“Listen, I’m just supposed to get your measurements so he can get you more things to wear. That’s all.” Eloise only gripped the keyboard harder. Rufus slumped, raking his hands through his hair before snapping himself. “Renan, come on. Did you have to be such an asshole?”

“Language.” The voice was quieter, a little less like a stereo turned up to eleven in the room. Eloise’s stomach flip flopped as the invisible demon let out a long, deep sigh. “I apologize for the scare.”

“You greet everyone like this?” Eloise jabbed.

Another long pause. “No.”

“Just the people I wanna be friends with,” Rufus declared, aggravated. He yanked his desk drawer open, fishing out white measuring tape and a pencil. “I’m sorry, Eloise.”

After several seconds of back and forth awkward eye contact, Eloise lowered the keyboard and allowed Rufus to approach. He was no longer the smiling, cheerful teen who’d been eager to show her around. Rather, he was a frowning, almost pouting little businessman who looked dissatisfied with his trade. With her nod, he started measuring her neck, shoulders, and chest. When he moved to measure her waist, she set aside her racing heart and croaked, “You don’t have friends?”

Rufus marked the tape with his pencil, darkening the line more than others as his brow furrowed. “I do, just . . . well. They’re roommates. Acquaintances.” He glanced up at her, then focused again on removing the tape and measuring her hips. “It’d just be nice to get to know someone before they start to think of me as a bad luck charm.”

Her eyes shifted between Rufus and the seemingly empty closet. “What kind of demon is he?”

Rufus finished and stood up straight. He tossed the white tape into the closet, where it would likely never be seen again. “The overprotective kind. Where we’re from, demons are assigned to people. They keep them as safe, sometimes following them from childhood all the way to death. Depends on the contract the Demon King gives them.”

“And Renan is your protector?”

The smallest smile slipped onto Rufus’s lips, some of the spark returning to his brown eyes. “He is.”

Eloise stared at the closet. The only demons she knew from her world belonged in stories. The others were just everyday people on the street. Clenching and unclenching her fists, Eloise asked Renan, “If you didn’t have my measurements before, how’d you pick these clothes out for me?”

The response was quieter still, now just a regularly volumed, rich voice coming from the closet. “I was given the clothes you were wearing yesterday. I used them as a template.”

Some of the stiffness in her body melted away. She nodded, satisfied. “Can I keep these clothes?” Eloise did like them, despite the cagey nature of their maker.

Renan replied, “They’re yours.”

“I’m so sorry for the heart attack he gave you,” Rufus said again.

Eloise sucked in a long breath, trying to loosen the rest of the tension in her body. She’d met a set of ghostly twins earlier. Then a hissing, snake woman had appeared. A witch threatened to kill her. That’s not to mention the giant wolf she’d woken up to in the woods the day before. A demonic parent seemed in line with everything else she’d seen thus far. “Is Renan the scariest thing here?”

Rufus grimaced and shrugged, teeth clenching a moment before he said, “He thinks he is.”

“Well,” Eloise cleared her throat, comparing one nightmare to another, “I guess you better introduce me to the next scariest thing.” After taking a minute to recognize the dry humor, Rufus’s shy smile had widened into a beam.