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I turn and perch on the window ledge, back cold from being this close to the thick, old glass. “They’re…they’re my grandparents. My aunts and uncles. I guess that answers my question of whether or not they knew about me. Fuck.”

“Language, Callie. We’re in an academic setting.”

“Sorry.”

“Forgiven and understood in these circumstances. Those people are related to you by blood, but they aren’t your family.” I meet her gaze and realize she has tears in her eyes. “We are your family, my darling.”

And now I’m crying because these damn hormones make me a blubbering mess. “I know, and you are. You and Evander have been the best family I could ask for. This school…it still feels like home.”

“It will always be home.”

I shiver and move away from the window. “I don’t know why I want to know about my mother so much. I want to know where she came from. What she was like. Is there any pressing family medical history I should know about?” I shake my head. “I’m not ungrateful for everything you gave me.”

“I know, Callie. I know. I suppose it’s not any different than an adoptive child wanting information on their birth family. It doesn’t mean you’re not grateful or you don’t love the family you have.”

“I don’t know why I thought finding out who my mother is would give me some sort of closure. All it does is raise more questions.”

“I’m sorry,” Tabatha says, and I know she means it. “I’m not sure what the right thing to do here is. It’s one thing to be sold like an animal by the people you thought were your family, but a whole other to then discover you aren’t even human at all. I thought I was protecting you by keeping the truth from you. Maybe if I’d told you from the start—”

“No,” I interrupt. “You did protect me. You gave me such a good life, and I can only hope I can be at least half the mother you were to me to my own daughter.”

Tabatha’s eyes light up and she smiles. “So it’s true, you are having a girl?”

“That’s what Michael told me. I guess he’s able to sense it or something. It’s kinda weird when I think about it.”

“It is.” Tabatha comes over and looks me up and down. “You’re still just as slim as ever.”

I pull my sweater tight across my abdomen. “I have the tiniest bump.”

“Not quite yet,” Tabatha says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t expect you to actually look pregnant for another few months. You’re tall and lean and in what we always thought was impossibly good shape,” she adds with a wink.

“I can’t take credit for my great workout skills anymore, being half archangel.”

“I suppose not. Are you all right? Do you want to go to my office and talk?”

“I’m good,” I say, trying to force myself to believe it. “I still have half a piece of chocolate cake on my plate that I really want to finish.”

“I’ll join you. I missed lunch, but I’ll happily go right to dessert.”

Laughing, I wipe at my eyes and ask Tabatha if I look okay. She says I do, and we go back into the staff lounge.

“Hey,” Kristy says softly when I take my spot next to her again. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, happy my best friend can sense when something is off about me. “It’s been a long weekend, that’s all.”

“You can say that again.” She puts her hand on mine and gives it a squeeze. “Want any more cake? I’m going to get another piece.”

“Yeah, I’ll take another. This is good.”

Kristy smiles and gets up, coming back with two more pieces of cake. My appetite is gone, and all I can think about is my mother. What was she doing messing around with dark magic? If she practiced Satanism, did she ever make contact with Lucifer? And if she did…would he even know she was my mother?

He told me that he liked people worshiping and praying to him. It made him feel less lonely, being cast down to the deepest pits of Hell, alone for all eternity. I don’t know if I necessarily believe him when he said he never forced anyone to trade their soul for power. Even if he didn’t force it, misleading and tricking someone into giving it up is just as bad, right?

“Are you ready to go home?” Kristy asks. I haven’t contributed much to the conversation, and I think it’s starting to become obvious my mind is elsewhere, though I don’t care.

“Yeah. A nap sounds nice, but if you guys want to stay longer I can so we can walk back together.”

“I have a holiday home-makeover show saved that I’m kind of dying to watch. So let’s go.”“How was lunch?” Lucas looks up from his book as soon as I walk into the house. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, which isn’t a usual place for him to hang out. I’m sure he was waiting by the door on purpose, anxious for me to get back.

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