Impulsively, she dodged into the closet, pressing herself into the layers of clothes on hangers, and gently squeezing the hinged doors shut.

Ouch! Mind your elbows, you scrawny twig!

“Shush,” she warned the closet monster.

How dare you, you little upstart! I could eat you in one gulp.

Knowing the dangerous nature of these creatures, Brigit grabbed a finger and bent the digit back sharply, hissing, “Shut your piehole, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

The monster gurgled, its thousand eyes bulging more than usual. Its mouth flapped open, revealing dozens of sharp spiky teeth in the little light coming through the split in the folding doors.

Do you always breathe so loud, fae twig? The human is not deaf.

The creature’s rank breath blew onto her pointed ear, and Brigit gave him a sideways glare filled with acute dislike.

“If he opens this closet,” she whispered back, “he’ll be so busy mopping up what remains of you he won’t have time for me.”