And ten is for the devil's own self.
I craned my neck to scan the entire frieze. They were all magpies, in their groups, from one to ten. The first magpie with its wing over its head, weeping. Then two with their heads thrown back, laughing. I quickly snapped pictures. Then I backed up to the dining room. The frieze here was crows, illustrating a similar rhyme.
One for bad news,
Two for mirth.
Three is a wedding,
Four is a birth.
Five is for riches,
Six is a thief.
Seven, a journey,
Eight is for grief.
Nine is a secret,
Ten is for sorrow.
Eleven is for love,
Twelve is the hope of joy for tomorrow.
TC meowed from the next room. Right. This wasn't an open house. Time to get my damn cat and go.
"Come on," I whispered. "We need to leave out the back--"
He darted in the opposite direction.
"Hey!"
I rounded the corner into the front hall . . . only to see him leaping up the stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
No! The exit is here!"
I jabbed my finger toward the front door. The problem with animals? Rational explanation doesn't work. Nor does a firm "Get back here now!" At least not with cats, which is why I'm really more of a dog person.
I sighed and ran up the stairs. They ended in a hallway with doors on either side and one at the end. All except the one at the end were open just enough for a cat to slip through.
"TC?"
I couldn't pick up so much as the padding of little paws.
"Look," I said. "I'm very good at reading signs, and if you're telling me you wanted out of that basement but don't want to go home with me, that's fine. Just let me put you outside, okay?"
"Mrrow."
His call came from farther down the hall. Then a scratch at the door--which seemed to be the one that was closed.
"Really? Damn it, you are a pain in the ass."
I turned the handle and--