There is a heavy scratching sound outside Emily's room, the kind of sound that things with claws and scales make when they knock on doors. You don't even want to think about what it's doing to the wood, or how much it'll cost to have it repaired.

"Wakey wakey, little kitty," croons a singsong voice, a caricature of an elderly woman's voice, Tatzel Gorynch's voice. "The Master's got treats for us, and he'll be very disappointed if you don't show. Open up, precious, and let us in."