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I blink, and a rogue tear rolls down my cheek.
“Oh, honey.” Tabatha pulls me in for another hug. She saved me and has been more of a mother to me than Nancy Martin ever was. She’s loved me as a mother should: unconditionally and without fault. “It will be okay.”
“How?” I sniffle and straighten up, wiping my eyes. “Hell needs a ruler or things will crumble into chaos. Michael made it sound simple, and I suppose it is. Put Lucifer back in shackles and he’ll be forced to rule again. But finding him?” I stop, needing a moment to compose myself so I don’t start crying again. “How do you find the devil when he doesn’t want to be found?”
“I don’t know,” she says softly. “I won’t lie to you and say I have the answers or that this is going to be easy, because it won’t be. Kristy said Michael told you Lucifer has done this before?”
“Yeah. Like twenty-five years ago, and supposedly he went back on his own. Before Michael got a chance to tell me why or how we can get him to do it again, he had to leave.” I let out a sigh and carefully wipe away another tear. I actually put on makeup today and don’t want to smear it all over my face. Tabatha puts her arm around me, and we slowly walk toward the staff lounge.
“It’s so frustrating,” I sigh. “And I’m trying to be understanding of everything. It’s a risk that he comes here and talks to me. I get it. But I have so many questions, and it’s like he dangles the carrot in front of me, saying he’ll tell me about my mother, only to fly off, not even leaving a crumb behind. Though this time I did find out just a little bit more about her.”
“You did?” Tabatha rushes out. I stop walking and look at her, seeing the slight panic on her face. It’s not the first time I thought she knew something about her and wasn’t telling me, and for the life of me, I don’t know why.
“She liked cheese and cranberry juice, and her familiar took the form of a cat. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Tabatha says, sounding all too relieved. She smiles but can’t keep the fear out of her eyes.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I swallow hard and look at her. “You know who she was, don’t you?” My heart skips a beat and my throat tightens as I breathe in, staring at Tabatha. “Please don’t lie to me,” I add softly, voice threatening to break. “With everything else going on, I can’t handle any more lies.”
Tabatha’s eyes flutter shut, lips parting as she lets out a breath. “I didn’t know her personally, and I was hoping it wasn’t true.”
“What wasn’t true?”
“Callista isn’t a very common name. When you said you were named after your mother, I knew it could be possible, but I didn’t want to even let myself think it. But then you showed me her photo and I know there’s no mistaking it now.” Tabatha’s brown eyes gaze upon my face, brows pinching together in sorrow. “I’ve never met your mother, but I’ve heard of her. Callista Lancaster belonged to one of the founding covens in the New England area, hailing from a strong family line. It’s particularly what made her well-known.”
“Why wouldn’t you want her to be my mother?”
“Because Callista was excommunicated from her coven for practicing dark magic.”
My blood goes cold. “What kind of dark magic?”
“Satanism.”Chapter 7Satanism.
No way. My mother? No fucking way.
“Are you sure?” I ask, staring at Tabatha in disbelief.
“I am, and I didn’t want to tell you and have it change the way you think of your mother.”
“Well, it does.” I let out a deep sigh and go to the window. The glass is old, and everything looks wavy through it. “I don’t understand. If she was excommunicated for practicing Satanism, how the heck did she meet my father, who’s a blood archangel?” I throw my head back. “I know you don’t know. The more I find out, the more questions I have, and it’s so frustrating.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry, my darling.” She adjusts her robe and looks down the hall. A few staff members from the Academy are coming this way. I recognize one as Professor Banks, who was a professor at the Academy when I was here. I really don’t feel like making small talk with anyone, and I’m tempted to throw up a shield to deflect any attention from myself. I must look as distraught as I feel, because they walk by with only a quick hello.
“Is that all you know about her?” I ask.
“Yes, the Lancaster coven was set on cutting her out of their lives in all ways. There are no records of her anymore. I did look.”
