Lavender

I woke up in a bed. Yep, it’s pretty normal. I’m just a normal, fun-loving, light haired West Virginian like all the other West Virginians. I’m not different. And I’m not lying, either.

I have a pale complexion and dark, frizzy hair…. Okay, you caught me, I lied, I’m not light-haired. I can’t be truthful about everything. I mean, I was a little truthful, I do love fun, and I do have this light streak in my hair that really stands out. I tried to use dye to fix it once, but now I just don’t look in the mirror. At least I’m not ginger. I don’t know if I’d be able to manage.

I have a normal job at a flourshop. Though, I keep wondering when they’re going to bring the wheat in because all we sell are peonies and roses and stuff. And then I wonder how the bread made with those tastes.

So yeah, pretty normal. Norm-al. Normal. It sounds weird now.

Anyway, I woke up in a normal bed, on a normal day. The sun was out and the room was kind of dusty so it made these beautiful little rays of light. I had a quilt overtop to protect me from the cold. It was January, afterall. I think it was January. I’m pretty sure it was January. I mean, it could have been February, I get those confused sometimes.

Okay, I’m going with that it was January, because that’s a cold month, and that it was Tuesday, because what the hell, Tuesday is pretty normal.

It was an average—didn’t see that one coming, did you—Tuesday in the quaint little town of Nowheresville. Well, the town was actually called Point Pleasant, but it was pretty darn small compared to where I was born. The town was big enough to have a flourshop, but that was surprising because half the buildings were abandoned. They were all old brick though, so it had the sort of majesty of an ancient city.

That is to say Point Pleasant was nice. All the people in the town were nice, and so was my husband, Cole… Okay, I’ll be Frank—because I heard he’s an honest guy—and say that Cole was kind of a jerk, but I got love, and that’s all that matters, right?

Now I’ll be Lavender—because that’s my name, and as you can see, I’m a pretty honest person—and say that my life was pretty much perfect otherwise. I mean, my normal daughter loves me plenty, and Cole’s nice enough when he’s not all boozed up or hung over.

My daughter’s name is Lady. There’s a funny story about that… I’ll be Frank, it’s really a terrible story. One day we had a bunch of plants come in that all had the word “lady” in their name: painted lady, dancing lady, lady slipper. And then Rose, the woman who owns the shop, said “that ladybug bit me!” while we were putting together an arrangement. I couldn’t stop thinking about it… and that was the day Lady was born. I hadn’t thought about names at all. I didn’t know you were supposed to. I doubt Cole put any thought into names, either. He was a jerk like that.

But whatever. The quilt lying on top of me was all dark red except for a single bright blue corner. I’m not very good at sewing, to be Frank. I wonder, who’s Frank, and what’s his last name?

Anyway, Cole was lying next to me, and I could smell the booze on him. Or, I guess, more like his breath, because he was a mouth breather, especially when he drank. I’ll be Lavender: it didn’t bother me, because I actually liked the smell of booze. It wasn’t good that morning because it meant Cole had stayed up all night drinking again. And since it was apparently Tuesday, Lady had school and I was the one who had to make sure she was ready.

I’m Lavender when I say I really loved getting up at the crack of dawn to get her ready to go hang out with all the other kids. I’m being Frank when I say I really do love her. It brings me joy and fulfillment to be with her, I swear.

Anyway, I walked into her room and nudged her awake. Like me, she was groggy, but unlike her, I didn’t show it. I knew she’d never let me live it down if she saw Mom tired in the morning. Or maybe it would just make her feel bad. I couldn’t tell you.

We went to the kitchen where I got some coffee and she got a scone. I’ll be Lavender: I don’t really need caffeine or anything, I just like the taste. I mean, I’m sure most people don’t, but that’s one weird thing about me. I pride myself on it, in fact.

I walked with Lady to school on my way to work. And let me tell you, she can be so whiny sometimes when she doesn’t want to go to school.

I got to the flourshop, ever ready for my wheat. Except, Rose had other plant plans today. I’m still trying to figure out how we’re going to use the poinsettia in the bread.

I’m joking, I’m joking, I’m not that dumb. I know what flowers and bow-kwets and all that are. Though, I will say, for some reason everyone pronounces it “bouquet”. I guess it’s some stupid French thing, but then how are you supposed to pronounce “quiet”?

Rose is really nice. She pays me a lot more than I need, because apparently there was some stupid gossip about Cole and me, so now she knows I’m the one with a job. I’ll be Frank: I didn’t want to stand out, but I guess if it gives me a few extra bucks, then it’s hard to complain.

And I guess I lied earlier. It was actually December, because Rose told me I’d be getting a Christmas bonus in two weeks. Rose is really, really generous, probably at her own detriment. I mean, I didn’t really do that much around the store. I cleaned the place everyday after it closed and manned the cash register, but Rose treats it like I care for the flowers, too. I’m not sure I could do that job if Rose paid me to do it. I mean, she would pay me if I did it, but it’d be hard.

Work was pretty easy that day. A bunch of people came in, but we didn’t have to write any orders for flowers. I loved days like those. I was in charge of writing the order forms, and I was always terrified that they might not be able to read my handwriting—because then they’d reject it, and we’d have to wait a week just to realize our mistake—and then I’d get fired—and then I’d probably be arrested for not having a job, or something. So in conclusion, order form days sucked. Excuse my French.

I got off work and went back home. Lady was reading a book in her room, while Cole was still in our room recovering. Or maybe he was just being lazy. I don’t know. But whatever.

My aunt told me to find a nice man, have a kid, and try living a normal human life. It was advice that I lived by ever since I was young, and it had worked wonders. I liked being normal, and normal, for the most part, liked me.

A few hours later, I cooked dinner like I did every night. It wasn’t anything fancy, just two chicken salads and sandwiches. I just got the precooked frozen chicken, especially when it was just Lady and I. Most evenings Lady talked about school, and I’d talk about work. Then, after dinner, I might try to help her with her homework. The only thing I helped her with was math. To be Lavender, I wasn’t terrible at the other subjects. I mean, my vocabulary wasn’t like super big or anything, but I could read and write pretty good. But she never really needed help in the other subjects, so math it was. To be Frank, I was a little worried about what would happen when she got to the higher grades and I couldn’t help her anymore. I entertained the idea of learning some more math, but it was only a passing thought. Maybe, someday, I would go back to school so that Lady might be proud of me.

Maybe it would have been lighter if I had a sense of taste, but that dinner was heady. Lady asked me a question I hadn’t recited the answer to yet, because it hadn’t been in the parenting manual. “Mom… why isn’t Dad eating dinner with us?” She tried to pretend she was just curious.

“Because, Lady, you’re dad’s… feeling under the weather,” I replied, being Lavender.

She just spun her fork in her salad like it was spaghetti. I could hear it scrape the plate. “But he’s…. He’s always under the weather….”

It hurt me so bad to see her like that. I didn’t know how to reply, and to be Frank, I wanted to ignore it. “I know, Sweetie. It’ll be okay, though. Come on, finish your food so you can do your homework and get to bed sooner.” Lady was a weird girl, really. For some reason she actually liked going to bed early.

My distraction seemed to sate her somewhat, though I could still feel her sadness. Cole was a jerk, you know that? Even if he was the father.

After the meal, I helped Lady on her math for a bit, made her take a bath, and then tucked her in.

With both my normal child and man child in bed, I could relax. It was all Mom time.

I’ve been omitting something important, so I’ll be Lavender with you: I know I said I was normal and average, like the perfect median of all people or whatever… but I’m not like super normal twenty-four/seven. Like, I’m a really normal person, but I’m not the most normal person.

That’s because I had a little bit of a ritual. Every three months, I’d stretch my wings. It really helped with the weird claustrophobic feeling I got looking like that all the time.

I stepped outside, closed the door, and my body knew it was time. I took off my sweater, because otherwise my wings would’ve probably torn it. Though I didn’t actually know, because I never experimented.

Already I could see the steam rising off my body under the porch light. I hated the winter air because it always sapped me dry. But the coldness felt pretty good, especially when I was really worked up.

My wings burst from my back. I also could feel black slimy mandibles come forth from my throat. That last part tended to happen when I was stressed. And I guess I was, because Christmas was coming up. I didn’t fight it, though, because it felt like too much work to keep them back. To be Lavender, I didn’t mind the mandibles much, but most people would probably think they were scary.

The beating of my glassy wings quickly turned into a buzz, and I was off the ground. I flew high up and then closer to town. My favorite thing was the moon on the river. And that night the moon was full, making the whole area look like a model train set lit by a dim light. It never got old. I just hoped nobody saw me. I think one time someone might have mistaken me for Mothman. To clarify, I’m not Mothman. He’s a little bigger than me.

I flew off toward the forest to make a few laps. I did dives and banks and glides and everything I knew how to do with wings. I thought about my daughter. I wished she could fly too. Maybe she could, but as far as I knew she was just a normal person. I was glad she turned out the way she did. I’m glad she wasn’t a ginger, at least.

I’d be Lavender, though, if I said I’d give everything up to show everyone my wings. I love Lady. I almost love Cole, for what it’s worth. Flying just isn’t worth them. Hell, I’d give up my magic before I gave up Lady.

I tired myself out after a while and went back home. Something was wrong, though.

Standing in the doorway was Lady, looking out into the night. I tried to land on the edge of the porch light. But it didn’t work. She saw everything. She saw me without my shirt, and my wings folded up behind me. I tried to put on the sweater, but my mandibles caught on the neck. I had to pull them back.

“Mom?” she called out. “Where were you?! Why did you leave so late?! What were you doing?!” she chastised me. I felt her panic; her anguish.

I was stunned. Being as Lavender as I could, I responded, “What are you talking about, Sweetie?” I hoped I might be able to convince her it was a dream. If it worked on TV, it might work here, I thought.

“You… you’re not my mom!” she ran into the house, slamming the door. I didn’t have any close neighbors in my holler but I’m sure it was audible in the next state over anyway.

I cringed. All I could say was “Oh no.”

I opened the door back up. Lady was shouting “Dad, Dad, someone took Mom! Please wake up!” as she knocked on my door. Then she stopped knocking, opened it and ran in.

I was heartbroken, but my aunt told me about this situation. I was going to make things right. “Lady, Honey, wait, I can explain!” I followed her into my room.

Cole was still completely out cold. I’m not even sure if he was breathing. I mean, he must have been. Lady backed into a corner when she saw me, screaming. I put my hand over her mouth and felt her saliva seeping between my fingers. “Honey, if you promise not to scream again, I’ll take my hand off your mouth, okay?”

She nodded, but I could tell she was being Lavender. I asked her again. “Lady, please don’t scream. I promise-promise I won’t hurt you. Just listen to me. I really am your mom.”

She nodded again, and I could tell she was going to listen to what I had to say this time, so I held up my end of the deal. She shivered in fear as she spoke. “But… how can you fly…? People can’t fly….”

“I’m… I’m not a regular person, Lady. I’m…” I swallowed. “I’m a demon. A dirty, gross, smelly, evil demon. But… but I’m also your mother, Lady, and you’re the most important thing in my life. I didn’t want you to know, because I knew it’d only hurt you.”

I could see she was struggling to breathe. “A demon? Y-you're evil?”

I sighed. Me and my big mouth. “No, I…. We’re not really evil….”

She didn’t blink. “But… if y-you’re my mom, does that make me a demon?”

“Yes, Lady, but barely….”

“Oh… c-cool…” she said, trying to lighten the mood like only a little kid can.

“You don’t want to be a demon, Sweetie. Trust me.” I made a serious face, the kind of face that I only make when I’m trying my very hardest to be Frank. Frank’s probably a stern fellow: a no horseplay kind of guy. Maybe Scottish, because I hear they’re quite gruff.

“Is Dad a demon too?” she asked quietly.

“No. He’s normal. You really are a human, Sweetie. I promise. And I really am your mother.”

She nodded, and looked down at the ground. I could tell that she didn’t believe me. She never would, probably.

“Lady? Why don’t you trust me?”

“Because… because you said you’re a demon….” Her eyes welled up with tears, and it broke me. I loved that girl so much, and few things gave me pain like seeing streaks on her cheeks, especially when I caused them.

I broke, and my own eyes welled up. I couldn’t do it. I pulled up my hand to my face and turned away when I wiped the tears away, hoping Lady wouldn’t see. I couldn’t put any more burden on her by making her worry.

“Is it true? Are you really my mom?” she finally asked with a shaky voice.

“Yes,” I replied in turn.

“Then… then… I love you….” She said it uncertainly, as if she was just trying to get me to stop crying, like I was the little girl.

My heart stopped when I heard those words. I pulled her close, and hugged her tightly. I nuzzled her blond hair, getting it wet with my own salty water. But it was okay, because she thoroughly soaked my chest, too. We were there for a while. Her uneven breaths were the most precious thing. The miasma of love in the room was almost suffocating.

I leaned my head back to look at her, and she looked up at me with shiny eyes. “Come on,” I said with a small and relieved smile, “let’s go back to bed.”

“Okay,” she said with a raspy voice.

We walked into her room, and I tucked her in for a second time that night, kissing her twice on the forehead.

I turned off the lights and was on my way out when she spoke up, sleepy. “Mom, can I… can I see what you look like some time…? I mean, as a… demon…? I-I bet you look just as pretty as you do now.”

“Oh, so you think I look like an ugly demon?” I said with a cheeky smile on my face.

“No! N—” she tried correcting herself before I cut her off.

“It’s okay, I was just joking.” I started walking out the room again.

“But… can I, Mom?”

“Yes,” I said, Lavender.

I walked out of the room, and waited until I could sense she was asleep.

When she fell asleep, I creeped back into her room. I stood over my little girl, and I stared at

her sleeping image. She had a faint smile on her face, and I could feel she was dreaming of something nice.

I stretched out my finger, and it turned black and hard like an old suit of armor. I touched it to her forehead so lightly that she wouldn’t be able to feel it. Demons are great at this sort of thing. On top of the wisdom my aunt left me with, she taught me a single, powerful spell with the ability to look into people’s minds and make them forget.

I went moment by moment through Lady, my daughter’s memories, removing any evidence that I was this thing. She deserved better than to carry even a single ounce of that burden.

To be Lavender, it wasn’t that hard. I mean, I was doing it for a good cause, right? It was for my family. It was for my daughter. It wasn’t for me.

I walked out of the room, and into my own. Of course, Cole was still dead on the other side of the bed. I don’t know if he had gotten up for a minute.

You know, on a different note, I hope I can meet Frank some day. I think he could help me be a better person, even if he’s probably a ginger.

Princess Metine

My name is Princess Metamorphine, but you can just call me Princess Metine. Auntie didn’t know about morphine when she named me, so now some of the demons joke about how it sounds like I’m some new age alternative to heroin. They don’t do it when they think I’m listening—I am always listening—because they think that it’d hurt my feelings.

Regardless, I’m a fairly average demon princess. I’m the second oldest of my sisters, and my mane is this beautiful iridescent blue-green like an opal. I try to keep it pristine, but my sisters and Auntie make fun of me for it. It gets really annoying; I mean, why can’t a demon just be naturally pretty, without sorcery?

You might be wondering what a demon is; think of a big black fuzzy wasp with the mane of a lion. And arguably most importantly, we can change our appearance and mimic a great many things… and also we require human affection to survive. It’s our nectar.

But my sisters: just because they make fun of me doesn’t mean they look down on me. In fact, not to brag or anything, but I’m probably one of the most—if not the most—looked up to demons in Hell. All of my sisters ask me for advice, and Auntie has said numerous times that I’m going to be the next queen. And, well, to be honest, it’s a lot of pressure. I try to keep my cool, and it doesn’t really show except when I’m around Auntie.

You might also be wondering about Hell. It’s not too different from how you’d expect. The air is full of sulfur and you have to keep an eye out for the occasional magma seeps. And it’s pretty dark, with only a dim red glow permeating everything. Occasionally it snows white ash, but the wind usually whips it away. Our architecture is very porous, too, like big basalt termite mounds. I must point out that dead people don’t often end up here. They mostly go to that other place people mistake for Hell. Overall, Hell is a wondrous, peaceful place.

We’re really close, Auntie and I. She shares a lot more with me than she does with my sisters. She’s a total hardass—I guess in multiple senses of the word, because of the whole exoskeleton thing—but she once told me she liked to sing. And I felt terrible, because I laughed when she told me that. But she was serious. We made up, of course, but I’m sure if it was anyone else it would have been a different story. And really, she is pretty good at singing, so good for her!

Being a princess is everything I imagined it would be. It’s probably different on Earth, but the politics of Hell are very simple. The royalty makes the drones, and the drones serve the royalty by going to Earth and collecting love. The best kind of love is motherly, but the love of children or spouses can work too, even though it’s more fickle. That’s why we usually replace children. We’re often called changelings, but that’s really a general term. Fairies do it too, and they don’t even have a good reason.

I eventually found satisfaction in birthing duties. Sure, it was pretty gross, and a little painful at times, but getting to see their cute little faces—after all the goop had been cleared off, of course—was worth it. They always smiled; wide smiles, too, like the sac was really that bad and they were just overjoyed to get out. I can’t help but find the smugness endearing.

I remember my first birth. I was really scared, and the first nymph’s incubation always lasts the longest because the body is still developing. Your abdomen—our third segment, not the second—swells up thrice its size, and it never shrinks back down. And it hurts. A lot.

My older sister Ecdysis reassured me that the second was much less painful, and the rest after that were just minor discomfort. She was right.

Maybe it’s pretty gross and weird, but hey, I’m creating an entire generation of demons, and they’re basically my slaves. But don’t tell them I said that, because that would make them sad, and it would make me a little sad too.

In Hell, princess’ first born are special and are more readily promoted, except Queen Pupa’s, who was disabled. That was a long time ago, though, and I’m sure that that was really sad. You’re expected to name your first three, and Ecy—what I call my sister to annoy her—thought it would be funny to tell me that at the last minute and act like she “forgot”. I don’t want to say that I hate her or anything, but she gets on my nerves sometimes.

The name ended up being hastily chosen and boring. His name was Chitin. I know, I know, pretty original, considering a fifth of demons have the name or some variation of it, but after I did that, no other caregiver dared to name a nymph Chitin. Maybe it’s out of respect, but absolutely no one takes anything I do with a grain of salt. It’s exhausting!

After my first birth, I made sure to pick out names for my second and third that weren’t bland. I named the second—a girl—Grace, because I wanted her to be graceful and beautiful like me. Call me conceited, I don’t care. We’re demons after all, aren’t we?

The third and last, another boy, I named Venom. Because… he hurt more than I thought he should have, and I wanted to spite him. In the end, he got the better end of the deal. I can only imagine Venom is a lot more intimidating than the Philip that I was originally planning.

Me and my younger sister, Princess Hemi—it’s short for something I don’t know—are really close. Also, her being the youngest means that I get to teach her a lot of stuff about Hell; and I do it right, unlike that cheeky Ecy. I feel bad that I don’t know Hemi’s full name, but she doesn’t either, so I suppose it’s okay.

My middle sister, Princess Naia—Auntie just dropped the “d” from naiad—and I don’t talk much. Ecy and her are close, but Naia seems really depressed sometimes. I want to cheer her up, but she never lets me in. I just hope she’s not jealous of me.

My two aunts, Queen Aurelia and Princess Chrysalis, are really nice. They both give me good advice and are really supportive. Chrysalis and I don’t talk much, but when we do she’s very inciteful. One time, I went to Auntie because I was really stressed, so she recommended that I see Chrysalis. I did, and Chrysalis told me that I needed to step away from Hell for a bit and get some fresh love.

I asked Auntie if I could join the feeders, and she said “Well, Metine, I suppose. But don’t do anything too risky.” I couldn’t believe it, to be honest; she wouldn’t even let Ecy do that. It was clear to me that I was the most trusted among my sisters, and I tried to live up to those expectations.

I took the place of this idiot’s girlfriend, and he really loved her. It was already hard enough to breathe Earthen air after being away for so long, but that house was suffocating. It was like eating too many brownies and then trying to inhale a milkshake. I thought I was going to die. Luckily breaking up with him sapped a little bit of his love, and then it was just the perfect amount. I’m glad I listened to Chrysalis because it was a lot different than the secondhand slop I get from the drones. Please don’t tell them I called their work “slop”.

I haven’t been feeding lately though. I was going to go out a few weeks ago, but I had another birth, so I had to put it on hold. It will kill the nymph if you shapeshift, and it can kill you too if you’re unlucky.

I was asked to give a speech to all the demons in Hell once. I guess we were experiencing a famine and were a bit lovestarved. There were just so many staring at me I wanted to turn into a little bee and fly away before anyone could notice, but the smallest thing I could be is a little baby, and I know they would have seen that.

So I gave the speech. The first line was very memorable: “Demons, I welcome you. Please, before we begin, I must say that I love all my subjects deeply.”

It was a bold statement, though I honestly didn’t know that at the time. No royalty in demon history had ever stated “I love my subjects” because demons can’t love. It was common sense that I apparently lacked. But I said it, and after the speech, everyone chanted and cheered. Auntie was supremely pleased; I imagine she would have been smiling if her mouthparts allowed it. Hemi was far too young to know any better then, but I think she would have been happy too.

Auntie told me what Hemi is short for: Hemimetamorphine. I need to tell her never to share that to anyone lest they start making fun of her. She’s good at taking a joke, but she wouldn’t be able to handle the level of mockery I received.

Still, my heart starts racing when I think about how Auntie named her after me. Auntie said that she did it so that maybe Hemi would turn out even a fraction as perfect as me, and if I could blush, it would have been profuse. I almost wish I didn’t ask.

I haven’t been completely honest. My name is Metine, yes, and Auntie did name me, but Auntie isn’t my “real” aunt. I was adopted. It’s a little sad, but my “real” parents didn’t love me, anyway, so I’m happier being a place where I’m appreciated and cherished instead.

Auntie was sad after Princess Coly went missing. I asked Ecy and Chrysalis about Coly, and Ecy said that she remembered Coly as always being depressed. I asked Chrysalis, and I could tell she was conflicted when I mentioned the name. She was very reserved with her response, but she said Coly was a promising princess, a lot like me actually, but had bad self esteem issues. Chrysalis said that Coly ran away. I didn’t question her after that because I could see it was hurting my aunts to dig. I didn’t understand why it was making Chrysalis so distraught, though. Coly was just her niece, not her child.

But anyway, Auntie found me and made me a princess. I already had the traits of a young princess, so it was easy just adopting me without too much metamorphosis. I have a hunch that that’s why Auntie named me Metamorphine, but she won’t say. Maybe she’s embarrassed about her early names. I know I was. The annoying part is that she told Ecy the reason.

I don’t remember much before I was a demon. I know I was an ugly girl because all the other kids I met told me so. I know that my father was replaced, and I discovered his secret somehow. We never saw him again after that. I don’t know if my mother ever knew.

After I saw what a demon was, I was so jealous. I realized that demons truly define beauty if they can be whatever they want;  and I wanted to escape my ugly skin, just like them.

After I had the revelation, it’s all very blurry to me. I remember a few disparate images of my metamorphosis. I remember the bright lights of an operating room. I remember Autumn leaves crunching under me. I remember seeing my doughy skin slough off, revealing my black skeleton. I remember fondling the slippery antennae on my head with my rotting fingers. And I remember being cold; so, so cold.

The next thing I knew, I was somewhere in a forest, and Auntie had her legs wrapped around me; her big, grey compound eyes glared at me, and her false pupils drilled into my soul. I was terrified. When I looked up to see her mandibles, though, they looked content: they were closed, as if she had nothing to gain from eating me. And more importantly, I felt it, like I had a nose that could smell her feelings.

She looked down at me, and asked, “Coly? Is that you?” A single antenna grazed my thorax. She pet my matted mane.

My speech was awkward. I was surprised I could talk at all. “N-no, my name ith Lav’nder.”

She opened her mandibles and looked up at the grey evening sky. Then, she hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. But I knew she wasn’t going to hurt me, at least.

She finally loosened her grip, and asked me, “I’m sorry, Lavender. Where are you from?”

“Point Plethant,” I said, confused.

“We’re both demons here,” she said, “there’s no need to hide.”

“A demon?” I looked at my hands. They were just black hairy little claws. It reminded me of the one that replaced my father. “I’m a demon?” I looked back up at her.

“Well, yes,” she said, tilting her head. “What else could you be?”

“Bu’, I’m a human, f’ough,” I said, ready to pass out.

“You’re clearly a demon, Little One.”

“No, but I wanna be a demon….”

“Lavender,” she said, utterly perplexed. “Look at yourself. You’re clearly a demon.”

I wanted to argue with it, but when I tried to stand up on my two feet, I couldn’t. I had six legs and a carapace. “I’m a demon!” I shouted. It was a bit muted on account of my voice being so breathy.

“Little ‘human’, why would you want to be a demon?” she asked, completely flummoxed. Obviously she knew demons were superior, but she doubted any humans knew that.

“I wan’ to be prethy,” I rasped, “like you.”

She was skeptical, but all it took was a peak into my memories with her spell. She never once spoke of what she saw. I wonder if she saw more than I know; I wonder if I’m repressing something. Auntie told me she’d teach me that magic once I’m ready. I wonder if I can use it on myself.

I wonder who knows. The only three demons that might know are my aunts and Ecy. At the very least, they don’t care. They’re proud of me, unimaginably so, and this is where I’m happy; here, in Hell, where I belong.

And I hope that wherever Coly is, she’s as happy as I am.