Part 3, Chapter 7
<span style="text-decoration:underline"><span style="font-weight:400">Lily
<span style="font-weight:400">It turned out that the short range portal we’d used earlier wasn’t the only magical public transportation avable in hell. Kelith exined to me a bit how thework worked, and she said that the one we used was short range, and could take you anywhere that wasn’t teleportation protected, such as the insides of other magical beings – the rare humans in Hell had to wear protection against teleportation idents.
<span style="font-weight:400">What this meant was, for a small magic energy tax, my mother would be using a more powerful portal toe visit – in less than an hour from now. I paced around the room Katie and I were staying in, nervous energy building in me. Although I’d grown more confident in my months as a demon, I’d funneled most of that confidence towards being flirty towards my girlfriends, leaving me woefully unequipped in this situation.
<span style="font-weight:400">It’d been a day since I found out my mother was alive, and I hadn’t spoken to Edith at all. The four of us had had dinner together, but Edith had remained silent, and I didn’t know whether I was thankful for that or felt bad about it.
<span style="font-weight:400">Katie had been in the bathroom, trying to manifest the perfect outfit using advice Kelith had given herst night. When joined me in our room, showing off her frayed denim(?) short-shorts and her tube top, I felt a deep kinship with Amber, stifling the urge to make ament about how revealing her outfit was.
<span style="font-weight:400">Instead, I eyed it curiously, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be made of. I <i><span style="font-weight:400">thought </i><span style="font-weight:400">the shorts were denim, but it was impossible to tell, on ount of the fact that her outfit was swirling and pulsing between orange, purple, pink, and white. “I see you’re taking to demon fashion rather quickly…” Somehow, Katie’s antics had gotten me to stop my pacing for a moment.
<span style="font-weight:400">She looked down at herself with a satisfied grin, “Yea, I figured I wouldn’t get to do this on earth so…”
<span style="font-weight:400">A strange thought popped in my head. “What’s stopping us from doing magic in public around humans anyways?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well for me it would hurt the coven – draw the attention of more people and we’d get crushed by opportunistic scavengers, as Mom would put it. For people like you – independents that is – I think it’s just the danger of it. There’s what, like six people that know you’re a demon, and you’ve already got someone after you?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Maybe we should organize for rights…” I muttered.
<span style="font-weight:400">She either ignored me or didn’t hear, eyeing my outfit. “So that’s what you’re wearing?”
<span style="font-weight:400">I twirled, showing off a near copy of the white dress I’d worn to church. This version was morefortable – partially due to the supernaturally soft fabric and partially to the fit being better – but also had more frills, ruffles and superfluous bits ofce strewn about. It was indulgent and extravagant, and I’d paired it with a tan wide-brimmed hat and casual strappy sandals to dress it down a bit.
<span style="font-weight:400">“It looks like a wedding dress,” Katie deadpanned.
<span style="font-weight:400">I froze, stopping myself from doing a second twirl. “What? No, it barely goes to my calf – wedding dresses are way longer.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yea, maybe in the fifties…”
<span style="font-weight:400">I red at her, shifting my dress to pure ck and my essories from a light tan to a darker brown. “There, are you happy?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hmm…” She walked in a circle around me, expression intently focused. “Maybe try a dark blue for thece and ck for the essories – it''ll make your eyes really pop.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I did as she said, wondering why I was listening to someone that was dressed like a walking sunset. To my surprise, I did like the way the bluece looked, although I didn’t have a mirror to see if she was right about my eyes.
<span style="font-weight:400">Katie pped her hands, shaking me out of my contemtion. “Alright, it’s time to leave!” She grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the room, ignoring my protests.
<i><span style="font-weight:400">I’m not ready for this…</i>
<span style="text-decoration:underline"><span style="font-weight:400">Amber
<span style="font-weight:400">I woke up in Sophia’s bed, sore and lethargic, to the sound of a measured series of knocks on her door.
<i><span style="font-weight:400">It’s too early for this…</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">I didn’t actually know what time it was, it could’ve been noon for all my drained mind knew, but regardless, I didn’t want to deal with it.
<span style="font-weight:400">Unfortunately, another series of knocks rang out, and, given that I’d ended upying on top of Sophia, I was in a better position to answer it. I grumbled under my breath and threw on a shirt and shorts from the floor, not caring if they were mine or if they were on backwards or inside-out.
<span style="font-weight:400">I opened the door with a yawn, only to freeze when I saw who was standing outside.
<i><span style="font-weight:400">What the fuck is my mom doing here?</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">I mmed the door shut, my heart pounding in my chest as I fumbled with the lock, desperately scrambling for how to handle the situation.
<i><span style="font-weight:400">She’s the better mage by far – I’ve never been able to match her demonstrations – so a direct confrontation is pretty much the worst-case scenario. Running away isn’t really feasible without some kind of teleportation spell, something I definitely don’t have the knowledge, skill or power to pull off. Deception is probably out the window; if she’s here she must be onto something, even if she doesn''t have the full picture. Mundane weapons are probably my best bet, especially if I can rig some kind of trap by making–</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">My thoughts were cut off by my mother’s calm tone piercing the thin door between us, “Amber, I would like to talk to you about something important, please just open the door.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“...”
<span style="font-weight:400">“We both know I can get in there easily if I want to, and neither of us wants to deal with the attention that would draw.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Sophia groaned, sitting up and shooting me a bleary and confused look.
<span style="font-weight:400">“<i><span style="font-weight:400">That’s my mom</i><span style="font-weight:400">,” I shout-whispered across the room, causing her eyes to widen and her body to stiffen.
<span style="font-weight:400">I turned my attention back to the door. I knew my mom was right; it would be trivial for her to break it down. <i><span style="font-weight:400">But</i><span style="font-weight:400">, it would provide a few seconds of nning, and if I waited for the right moment…
<span style="font-weight:400">I opened the door right as she was getting ready to knock again, and smugly stared at her fist hanging where the door had just been. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things – if she wanted to st me with a fireball, she still could – but at least I had outyed her in one tiny way.
<span style="font-weight:400">She cleared her throat. “Come with me – we have much to discuss.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I crossed my arms, firmly nting myself.
<span style="font-weight:400">Her eyes rolled and she scoffed, “We’ll stay in public ces and if you want to choose the venue for our discussion, you may – as long as it is reasonable.”
<i><span style="font-weight:400">She’s not even pretending we’re not a breath away from fighting.</i>
<i><span style="font-weight:400">Those are things she’d already told me to think about – but she also told me that if someone wanted me dead, being in public wouldn’t matter.</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">It really was the ultimate flex on her part that every one of my analyses of her schemes originally came out of her mouth. “Fine, but shees too. And give us a minute to get dressed.” I gestured behind me towards the bed.
<span style="font-weight:400">My mother’s eyes narrowed. “She’s human?” At my nod she continued, “Fine, then, I’ll be waiting in front of the building. Leave by an exit other than the front and I won’t knock next time.” And she strode off.
<span style="font-weight:400">“<i><span style="font-weight:400">What a bitch…</i><span style="font-weight:400">” Sophia whispered from across the room.
<span style="font-weight:400">For once, I was inclined to agree.
<span style="text-decoration:underline"><span style="font-weight:400">Lily
<span style="font-weight:400">The walk over to the restaurant to meet my mother was uneventful, everyone having their own reasons for remaining silent. Kelith, the one with the least reason out of us, tried to get a conversation started a couple of times, but it fizzled without a partner to talk to.
<span style="font-weight:400">Strangely, my mind was fixated on the idea of a demon restaurant, wondering what they would serve, rather than trying to worry about my mother.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d been thinking about Mom for twenty years, but the idea of being in Hell had only floated by me a few dozen minutes beforeing here, so I was taken in by the novelty of the culture.
<span style="font-weight:400">Partially continuing my train of thought about demon culture and partially taking pity on Kelith, who looked particrly affected by the awkward atmosphere, I shot her a question. “Howe everyone’s so friendly here?” A group of three women, one of them wearing a metallic prosthesis recing an absent forearm and hand, walked by and waved at me, illustrating my point.
<span style="font-weight:400">Kelith perked up, always happy to lore-dump at me, “I’m not sure what humans are like to each other, but yes, people are generally kind to strangers. Why wouldn’t they be?’ she shook her head, “There’s another part of it though, and probably a better answer to what you’re asking about: people are especially kind to younger concubi.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What? Why? Concubi?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Subi and incubi collectively,” she exined, “And the reason is because concubi are especially dependent on their magic energy, so it’s customary formunities to collectively dote on them to help give little bits of energy.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Huh.” I blinked, trying to process the fact that I was the equivalent of a pet shared by a neighborhood, to be fed by whoever felt like it and showered with affection by everyone. <i><span style="font-weight:400">Feels kinda nice…</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, time to do my Lily impression!” Katie interjected. She cleared her throat, “Something something raise a vige?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“...”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Did I do it right?” She shed a wide grin, small fangs on full disy.
<span style="font-weight:400">I rolled my eyes, “No, it would be ‘something something vige child,’ duh.”
<span style="font-weight:400">After that short burst, silence settled between us again, a force constantly fighting against the ambient noise around us – the passing conversations, the asional chirp of a bird, and the clink of porcin and silverware as we passed a cafe with outdoor seating.
<span style="font-weight:400">Again unable to let it remain quiet, I asked another question, “Edith, what’s my Mom like?”
<span style="font-weight:400">She let out a relieved sigh, smiling as she thought about her wife, “Oh, she’s lovely – she’s kind-hearted and fragile, the kind of woman you can’t help but want to cherish and protect,” sheughed, “She can be a bit of an airhead sometimes–”
<span style="font-weight:400">Katie snorted, covering her mouth with her palm.
<span style="font-weight:400">“But she’s just so cute. Zamira is energetic and enthusiastic and I love her so much,” Kelith finished.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Huh,” I let out, “Thanks.” My mind was already elsewhere, trying to reconcile yet another differing opinion on what my mother was like. Unfortunately, my thoughts were interrupted before I could decide how I felt.
<span style="font-weight:400">Kelith stopped and turned to face the building next to us. “We’re here kids.”
<span style="font-weight:400">All at once, my nervous energy came back, and this time, I didn’t think Katie’s antics would be enough to make it go away.
<span style="text-decoration:underline"><span style="font-weight:400">Amber
<span style="font-weight:400">After a tense discussion with Sophia, where I exined to her in no uncertain terms that in an emergency she should save herself and not look back, not even bothering to call the police for help – what could they even do?
<span style="font-weight:400">She was there for moral and intellectual support – not to fling spells. I still had a long way to go, getting over my stubborn pride, but one of my first steps was admitting that yes, Sophia was smarter than me, knew more about ‘magic runes’ than me, and of course, I found her all the more attractive for it.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d said as much to her as we left her dorm room – knowing we still needed to assuage each of our uncertainties when it came to ourplicated rtionship – and she’d responded with a covered smile and a barely noticeable blush. <i><span style="font-weight:400">Mission sessful.</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">Anyways, we made our way to where my mother was waiting, funny business not being worth it in the slightest. We were slightly dyed by one of Sophia’s dormmates asking if we had a lighter – what kind of person smoked at… whatever time it was? – but soon we were in the presence of <i><span style="font-weight:400">the bitch</i><span style="font-weight:400">, as Sophia put it.
<span style="font-weight:400">She was noticeably shorter than she usually appeared,ing up inches below both of us, but still standing with regal posture. “Have you decided on a reasonable venue?” she asked, managing to sound both disinterested and annoyed at the same time.
<i><span style="font-weight:400">Where is the woman that nned my birthday parties – that raised twenty-seven girls?</i>
<span style="font-weight:400">I nodded, telling her about the pizza ce Sophia and I had met in after I’d gotten spooked on my run. I still didn’t know if my fear had been justified back then, nor did I know what my mom wanted with me right now.
<span style="font-weight:400">Silence permeated the space around us as we walked to our destination, the few people we passed on the dirty, cracked sidewalk sensing the tension in the air and halting their conversations as they walked by.
<span style="font-weight:400">My mother strode ahead, her old, heavy-set body not showing in her quick, purposeful movements. Sophia and I had to hurry to keep up, and by the time we entered the chain restaurant, I was forcing myself to breathe slowly, trying to hide how the speed-walking had raised my heart rate.
<span style="font-weight:400">We sat at the tacky booth, the bright colors shing with my mother’s elegant draping fabrics and the tension between us. She rushed us through ordering, me and Sophia getting a veggie pizza to share, and her getting a calzone – something I didn’t even know this ce offered.
<span style="font-weight:400">Sophia’s hand grabbed mine under the table, squeezing in reassurement as my mother started across from us.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Let’s cut the bullshit,” she bulldozed through my shock at her frankness, “I know she’s not dead, you know I know she’s not dead, so let’s talk about <i><span style="font-weight:400">why</i><span style="font-weight:400"> she’s not dead.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I remained silent, unable to decide between agreeing and questioning what she knew or why she’d gone from talking about me ying her customer’s ‘son’ to talking about Lily with ‘she’.
<span style="font-weight:400">She continued, taking my silence as agreement, “My previous strategy of giving you what you needed to seed and letting you have freedom clearly failed. But I don’t want to give up on you, my daughter,” she leaned back, folding her hands on the table in front of her, “Let me tell you a story about a more naive version of me, and my sister, Zamira Victory – from before I changed my name.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I stared, unfazed. The only meaning the name held for me was in the author of my demon textbooks, who shared the samest name. It was somewhat surprising that my mother could be Scarlet, but hardly Earth-shattering.
<span style="font-weight:400">Sophia, on the other hand, tilted her head with narrowed eyes, as if the name had rung a distant bell.
<span style="font-weight:400">“See, you probably have this vision of me as a long-standing demon hunter, fighting the eternal war against the darkness until my brittle bones fail me,” she scoffed, “But in reality, I am more powerful than I’ve ever been, and, while I have been killing demons for a very long time, I was once close to some as well. Some, like my sister, Zamira,” she held up a finger, and it shifted before our eyes to red skin with a ck fingernail – no magic circle, no spell materials, just raw force of will.
<span style="font-weight:400">At that moment, I finally understood how fucked I was.