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I shook my head. “I don’t want to go into the why. You know why.”
“I do.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because I wanted to know whether you would lie to me.”
“How do you know I’m not lying?”
“You would have said yes if you were lying. Instead, you told me where I stand. I know I have work to do if I want to earn your trust. What I want you to know is, I am trying to earn it.”
“How do I know you’re not just going to discard me once your mission is complete?”
“You don’t. All I can do is reassure you.”
“I don’t know if I trust anyone, Lucien. How can I?”
Lucien paused. “I am not him.” Another paused. “I’m… more like my mother, in almost every way.”
“Your mom…” I breathed. “What… was she like?”
“She was strong. Powerful. Respected.”
“Feared?”
“By some… though not because she ever did anything to warrant anyone’s fear. I never saw my mother lift a finger to hurt anyone, but she was an accomplished witch. Few could rival her power… her command over the creatures that haunt our family was unique.”
“I thought you needed the Engine for that.”
“Most Diaboli need the Engine, my mother didn’t. She could keep the demons under control just with her magic and strong will, but when she passed… my father became obsessed with retrieving it. He always had been to some extent—usually encouraged heavily by my grandfather—but when we lost mom, I think something snapped and he let it consume him. I knew I didn’t want to go down the same path, so I started studying her work, trying to learn how she did it. I haven’t quite figured it out yet. ”
“Your mom sounds amazing.”
“She was. I’ve learned a lot from her.”
“I thought your father said he taught you everything you know.”
Lucien shook his head. “My father taught me violence, and weapons. My mother taught me compassion… empathy, quiet confidence. She also taught me how to cook.”
I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me properly in the darkness. “So, that’s where you get it.”
“She loved to cook. One day I asked her to teach me how to make pancakes. I was barely eight years old, and they were probably disgusting. But I developed a love for cooking, for baking. I still can’t walk past a bakery without thinking about her.”
That actually made a lot of sense. I had never seen any of the violence he supposedly picked up from his father, but he had showed me compassion and empathy at almost every turn, and his food was delicious. I let his words hang in the air for a moment before venturing. “How did she…?”
Lucien didn’t answer straight away. “She had enemies. Within and without.”
“Within?”
“Those who feared her power wanted her gone. They succeeded.”
“Lucien…” I found my hand darting over to find his.
He tried to shrug away from my touch, but I persisted, and took his hand anyway.
“What happened to her?” I pressed.
“I… still don’t know for certain. But I know her death wasn’t the accident everyone told me it was.”
