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Authors: Julie Kenner
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me.
“Mom!”
“Hmmm?” I turned toward her, but my thoughts were still on Stuart. A short secret, I thought. That’s all. I’d gather a little more information, and then I’d tell him everything. At the very least, I wanted to figure out who this She-Demon was. If I had to tell Stuart there was another Big Bad with me in its sights, at a minimum I wanted some information about my enemy. To get that, I was going to need help.
“Mom!”
I smiled negligently at Allie, but my thoughts had drifted to Father Ben. He’d been my alimentatore —my guide, my helper—and he’d been brutally murdered only weeks before. As always when I thought of him, I felt the stab of regret. I’d been too late to save him, and though I knew in my heart that his death wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help but shoulder some of the blame. Those ripples again. He’d come to San Diablo to minister to a parish; he’d become involved in Forza because he’d met me. He had, I thought, deserved better. And at the same time, I knew that he would be proud dying the way he had, defending the innocent against the onslaught of evil.
“Mother!”
Allie’s shriek finally broke through my musings. “Sorry. What?”
“I can study at Daddy’s,” she said, her exasperated tone matching her expression.
I shook off thoughts of Stuart and Eric and mysterious female demons and focused on my daughter. “Sorry, kid. You study here.”
“That’s so unfair,” she wailed.
“Incredibly,” I agreed. “But until you’re the mom, you have to live with my arbitrary and capricious rules. That means no applying for your learner’s permit until your grades are up—”
“Big deal,” she said sulkily, having recently had all her illusions shattered by the previously unknown fact that her fifteenth birthday wasn’t the magic day for applying for her permit. That day was fifteen years plus six months. And to a teenager, that extra six months might as well be six years.
“I didn’t make the rules.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down. “Maybe not that one.”
I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “Fair enough.” I aimed a finger out the door. “So what’s it going to be? Breakfast with the family or sulking in your room?”
“Sulking,” she said, then turned to slink down the hall. I’m pretty sure she expected me to call her back, but I didn’t have the energy for a fight. Instead, I called after her, reminding her to use the time to study. My response was a frustrated groan and a firm slamming of the door. I’m probably a bad mom, but I couldn’t hold back my smile. Because grades and studying and teenage angst had absolutely nothing to do with demons. A tiny bit of normality had snuck into our decidedly ab normal life. And damned if that didn’t feel nice.
“You’re chipper,” Stuart said as I slid into my chair at the table.
“Allie’s banished to her room studying,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’m on her shit list for the day.”
“Shit list!” Timmy shouted, and Stuart cocked an eyebrow while I silently mouthed a contrite, “Sorry.”
“Well, I can see why that puts a spring in your step,” said my husband the comedian.
“Can’t I be in a good mood? Do I have to be sullen just because my daughter is?”
“What exactly is she sullen about?”
I hesitated, our newly established full-disclosure lifestyle at odds with my unilateral decision to postpone the whole full-disclosure thing for a day or two. “I’m not letting her go to Eric’s,” I said.
“Well of course you’re not,” Stuart agreed, and I saw the moment comprehension hit. “And she doesn’t understand why.”
“Sure she does.” I smiled. “Her grades suck.”
“Suck!” Timmy yelled gleefully, and I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Party now?” Timmy asked. He bounced a little in his seat, thrilled at the prospect of festivities, even though the child to be feted was a little demon in
“Mom!”
“Hmmm?” I turned toward her, but my thoughts were still on Stuart. A short secret, I thought. That’s all. I’d gather a little more information, and then I’d tell him everything. At the very least, I wanted to figure out who this She-Demon was. If I had to tell Stuart there was another Big Bad with me in its sights, at a minimum I wanted some information about my enemy. To get that, I was going to need help.
“Mom!”
I smiled negligently at Allie, but my thoughts had drifted to Father Ben. He’d been my alimentatore —my guide, my helper—and he’d been brutally murdered only weeks before. As always when I thought of him, I felt the stab of regret. I’d been too late to save him, and though I knew in my heart that his death wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help but shoulder some of the blame. Those ripples again. He’d come to San Diablo to minister to a parish; he’d become involved in Forza because he’d met me. He had, I thought, deserved better. And at the same time, I knew that he would be proud dying the way he had, defending the innocent against the onslaught of evil.
“Mother!”
Allie’s shriek finally broke through my musings. “Sorry. What?”
“I can study at Daddy’s,” she said, her exasperated tone matching her expression.
I shook off thoughts of Stuart and Eric and mysterious female demons and focused on my daughter. “Sorry, kid. You study here.”
“That’s so unfair,” she wailed.
“Incredibly,” I agreed. “But until you’re the mom, you have to live with my arbitrary and capricious rules. That means no applying for your learner’s permit until your grades are up—”
“Big deal,” she said sulkily, having recently had all her illusions shattered by the previously unknown fact that her fifteenth birthday wasn’t the magic day for applying for her permit. That day was fifteen years plus six months. And to a teenager, that extra six months might as well be six years.
“I didn’t make the rules.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down. “Maybe not that one.”
I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “Fair enough.” I aimed a finger out the door. “So what’s it going to be? Breakfast with the family or sulking in your room?”
“Sulking,” she said, then turned to slink down the hall. I’m pretty sure she expected me to call her back, but I didn’t have the energy for a fight. Instead, I called after her, reminding her to use the time to study. My response was a frustrated groan and a firm slamming of the door. I’m probably a bad mom, but I couldn’t hold back my smile. Because grades and studying and teenage angst had absolutely nothing to do with demons. A tiny bit of normality had snuck into our decidedly ab normal life. And damned if that didn’t feel nice.
“You’re chipper,” Stuart said as I slid into my chair at the table.
“Allie’s banished to her room studying,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’m on her shit list for the day.”
“Shit list!” Timmy shouted, and Stuart cocked an eyebrow while I silently mouthed a contrite, “Sorry.”
“Well, I can see why that puts a spring in your step,” said my husband the comedian.
“Can’t I be in a good mood? Do I have to be sullen just because my daughter is?”
“What exactly is she sullen about?”
I hesitated, our newly established full-disclosure lifestyle at odds with my unilateral decision to postpone the whole full-disclosure thing for a day or two. “I’m not letting her go to Eric’s,” I said.
“Well of course you’re not,” Stuart agreed, and I saw the moment comprehension hit. “And she doesn’t understand why.”
“Sure she does.” I smiled. “Her grades suck.”
“Suck!” Timmy yelled gleefully, and I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Party now?” Timmy asked. He bounced a little in his seat, thrilled at the prospect of festivities, even though the child to be feted was a little demon in
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