“Err... sure.” Harold accepted the quarter-cake while the two demons split the other half. “So where's this mirror universe?”
“In the bathroom.” Sefskapoi pointed with a handful of cake and Harold moved through the house toward the stairs. The hallway had several framed photographs in a like. All monochromes of people in antique costumes. It was likely to be the ancestors of the woman who lived here, but he'd seen mocked-up ancestry photographs before. He used to have one of his mother dressed as a slutty barmaid in a wild west saloon and he knew for a fact she'd never been to America. They passed the door to a living room where a television blared the Living channel to an empty, chintz decorated room. He hoped the Wedgewood shepherdess appreciated the glimpse into celebrity cooking.
The remaining downstairs room had a closed door. Harold peeped inside anyway. The dining room beyond was unused and dusty and had the faint smell of mildew from the wallpaper. It didn't feel damp as such, just cold and he wondered how many people kept an unheated room in their house and whether the council made them pay extra council tax for owning a house with more space than they needed. He knew he always got stung for his thirty-four room place.
The front door was bolted, he noticed as they passed it to go up the stairs. A carpet runner went up the middle of the single flights, leaving a bare section of wood at either side where the dust gathered. Nobody had vacuumed here for a long time.