The next day dawned gray and overcast, and by mid-morning a persistent rain was falling. While the rest of the kids went upstairs to run around with flashlights, Abigail opted to stay with Jonathan, and actually helped him out with the dishes.

"Thanks, Abigail," he said as they finished up. "I really appreciate the help. Did you get in a fight with someone, or just felt like helping out this morning?"

Abigail shrugged, looking bashful. "I didn't get in a fight with anyone, I just…needed a break."

"Well, your help was very welcome." Jonathan ruffled her hair. "Shall we go see—"

"That Ethan?" asked a strange voice, and Jonathan whirled around to find a pair of strangers in the kitchen near the door to the back yard. Beside him, Abigail went rigid.

The pair were both large men, soaking wet, wearing drab clothes that looked as if they had seen better days. The shorter of the two had lanky brown hair that dangled into his face, while the taller of the two had a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once and in the process been mashed back into his cheeks. Both of them had at least fifty pounds on Jonathan, most of it muscle.

"Nah," grunted the one with the squished nose. "Too old."

Jonathan didn't need to enliven his magic to tell these two wanted nothing good. "Abigail, run next door," he said quietly. Abigail didn't move. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

"Fine, you deal with him, I'll get the girl," said the shorter of the two and started forward into the kitchen.

Jonathan panicked. He wasn't a fighter, and at a guess these were clearly thugs associated with the Petty Baron Ethan told him about the previous day. The closest thing he had to a weapon at hand were the dishes, but none of them were even all that heavy. Throwing the pottery bowls wasn't going to slow these two down at all.

"Jonathan!" Abigail cried, finally taking a step backwards as if she would run, and in desperation Jonathan enlivened his magic and pulled blindly at her desire. He felt the connection to the Infernal Abyss form, and then everything fell away into darkness.

Abigail stumbled backward, hitting the small of her back on the corner of the kitchen island in her haste, breath coming fast as she desperately tried to get away from the thug who was advancing toward her.

There was a muffled thump sound and a gust of air blew through the kitchen from where Jonathan was standing motionless. The two thugs stopped and shared a confused glance, and Abigail took the opportunity to scramble around the island so it was between her and them.

"Jonathan, help!" she cried in desperation. Jonathan, back still toward her, cocked his head. What was he doing? Why was he just standing there when—

Jonathan abruptly swiveled and stared Abigail in the eyes, except it wasn't Jonathan. Sure, superficially he looked the same, but the way he moved, the predatory gleam in his eye…it was as if something had slipped Jonathan on like a suit, but was wearing him poorly.

"What was—" began one of the thugs, but the Jonathan-thing interrupted him, eyes still locked on Abigail who had frozen in place without conscious thought.

"What an intriguing web of constraints I have found myself caught in," it said, mouth distending strangely as he talked. The thing lingered on odd words—drawing out the word "web" leaning into "myself"—almost as if it was reveling in the simple act of speaking, but didn't quite understand proper intonation. "Turn around, little snack. Or you might suffer emotional harm." It laughed.

Abigail, who had felt as if she were chained in place as soon as the creature's eyes landed on her, spun and immediately ran out the door into the orphanage as fast as she could. She could still hear it laughing behind her as she sprinted for the stairs. At the end of the entryway, the front door was open, and she could see another thug loitering just inside the doorway. He looked surprised to see her, but she paid him no attention because behind her she could hear one of the men in the kitchen shout, "Get her—" and then his voice cut short with the sound of a wet thud. The other man screamed something she couldn't understand, and then she was scrambling up the stairs as fast as she could go, barely noticing when one foot slipped and banged her knee against the corner of a step.

"I'm going to help Morris!" she heard the man by the door call to someone, and then she was off the stairs and sprinting into the hall.

She found the other children there, clustered midway down. Yanni and Kylus both held flashlights that were on, but were pointing at the floor, forgotten.

"Abigail?" said Sandra, with obvious concern. "Abigail, what's going on?"

"There are strangers, strange men," Abigail gasped out, and fear immediately spread across the faces of the children.

Ethan stepped forward. "How many? Did you catch any names?"

Downstairs, someone screamed before the sound was abruptly cut off.

Ethan paled. "What in Anthrax's name…"

"There's no time, we have to run!" insisted Abigail. "Two men came in the back, and then Jonathan changed somehow, and there was someone at the front door, so I came to warn you, but—"

"I've got you, don't worry," said Ethan, grabbing Abigail and pulling her into a quick hug. "Breathe, Abigail. Kylus, Sandra, one of you watch the stairs. The rest of you, into the attic. Now!"

Ethan pushed Abigail slightly away from him. "Abigail, I need you to focus. Did you catch anyone's name? And what do you mean about Jonathan?"

"The man at the front door said something about Morris, I didn't hear anyone else's name. And Jonathan changed Ethan. I yelled at him to help me, and when he turned around it wasn't Jonathan anymore."

"Shit," said Ethan. "That doesn't sound good, and there's a Morris works for the Petty Baron. Come on, everyone, into the attic!"

The youngest kids had already scrambled up the ladder, and Ethan harried the rest up while Sandra watched the top of the stairs. Kylus had climbed up ahead, although Abigail hadn't noticed the two of them agreeing who should do what. He and Yanni were using their flashlights to light up the rather-dim attic.

Although Ethan didn't say anything to her, Sandra came running as soon as the last kid was up the ladder, and as she climbed it Ethan stood at the bottom looking conflicted.

"Ethan!" Bethany called, practically in tears, and he shook his head, looking angry and frightened, then scrambled up. With Jamilah's help, they pulled the ladder up after them, and Ethan shut the trap door with a muted thud.

"Ethan, what will we do?" asked Abigail, panic firmly settled in.

"Jamilah, Kylus, Chris, find the heaviest furniture you can and drag it over here," Ethan instructed. "Abigail, I want you to sit down—there, that's right, Bethany, can you please hold her hand for me?—I need you to breathe and then tell me what you mean about Jonathan not being himself anymore." Abigail just mutely shook her head, unable to get her voice out again. He turned to Sandra. "Sandra, you notice any other ladders around the property?"

"No."

"Good, then we should have some time. There can't be all that many of the Petty Baron's men here. Kylus, Jamilah, now that you've got the trap door blocked off, take one of the flashlights and look for places we might be able to knock out a window or a bit of roof or something and get out of here. If we can find a way out, we'll head for the woods like we talked about last night. I doubt the Petty Baron would have sent all that many men this far out of town, so we should have a chance to get away."

Kylus and Jamilah nodded, turning to head into the mess of belongings that cluttered the attic when the muffled voice of not-Jonathan sounded from below the trap door. "Little snack! I know you're up there, little snack. You and all the rest of the tidbits. Come down, come down, the bad men won't be hurting anyone anymore." And the thing laughed.

"Jonathan?" asked Yanni, eyes wide, but Abigail shook her head.

"That's not Jonathan. I think—I think he actually turned into a demon."

"Little snaaaaack," called the thing in a sing-song voice, and dust was thrown into the air as the trap door rose slightly under a heavy impact before falling back down.

The suddenness of it made the kids scramble away, all except for Ethan and Chris who immediately threw themselves on top of the trunks that had been dragged onto the trap door, adding their weight to the pile.

Ethan cast a panicked glance over his shoulder at Abigail who was sitting frozen in place. "Abigail, what in the seven hells—"

"Come now, little snack," crooned the voice of the thing. It sounded as if it were immediately on the other side of the trap door, though Abigail didn't know how that could be. Was it clinging to the ceiling somehow? "You know that I won't hurt you. This Jonathan—" it used an ugly, high-pitched tone of voice to say his name "—made sure of that, now didn't he?" Its tone suddenly shifted lower, becoming deeper and more raspy. "But there were no terms, no stipulations, no provisions, no agreements that he stay Jonathan, now were there? So come, little morsel, and make a contract with me if you wish to see your Jonathan again. I saw a lovely little ritual drawn downstairs that should do nicely. There's not even any blood on it." And the thing giggled.

Abigail remained frozen for an instant, body and brain both locked in place by the sheer impossibility of the situation she found herself in.

"Abigail…?" said Ethan, sounding like a scared little kid, and the attic came back into focus.

Abigail levered herself up, feeling a million years old, and forced herself to walk two steps toward the trap door.

"Are you going to hurt the other children?" she called, hating the way her voice shook, but unable to do anything about it.

"No," the thing snarled. "But perhaps they should stay where they are, hmm? I am bound not to hurt them, but their provisions do not permit banishment and after all..." Its voice dropped to a throaty whisper. "Temptation is a powerful thing."

"Abigail, you shouldn't listen to it," said Ethan urgently. "We can stay here, we'll think of something—"

The trap door lifted a half inch into the air, easily, as if there were no trunks, no children, no weight on top of it at all, and then settled just as easily back down.

Abigail sucked in a breath. "I really don't think that would be a good idea," she said to his wide eyes. "I'm coming down!" she called. "But I won't do it unless you're at the other end of the hallway!"

"Very well," growled the thing from the other side of the trap door. "Don't keep me waaaaaiting!"

"Can you lower me down, Ethan?" Abigail asked. She did not want to go.

"Yes," said Ethan hesitantly.

"Good." Abigail grabbed hold of one of the trunks. "Help me move these. And Ethan?" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I really think you should break out and run for the woods as soon as I'm down."