Page 61 of When I Accidentally Summoned a Demon

“STOP.” The word comes out of me at full volume. “RIGHT NOW.”

She stops. Her eyes open. They find Bethie first—in my arms, both fists knotted in my sweatshirt, crying, silent and confused. The cry of a child who doesn’t understand what is happening, but she knows something is deeply wrong.

Valefar scrambles, moving into the corner by the bookshelf, still shaking, both hands braced on the floor. His gaze finds mine. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to forget the horrors.

“Vesper—” my mother starts, glancing at the key hanging around her neck. “I am trying to protect you⁠—”

“I gave you that key for emergencies,” I say, sharp with a bite. “This is not an emergency. This is you hurting someone in my home.”

The room is quiet, except for Bethie, whose arms strain toward him. “Pwecious,” she whimpers.

Valefar is still curled against the bookshelf, tremors slowly working their way out of him, but the second he hears Bethie’s voice, he turns to her. Something in him shifts.

“Go ahead, little bug.” I set Bethie down. She runs straight to him. My mother’s jaw drops.

Valefar barely has time to open his arms before she collides with his chest and climbs into his lap. His claws retract instantly. One massive arm closes around her while his tail curls across her little legs.

“Pwecious,” she says again, patting both hands against his face.

“Little beastie.” The words come out rough and broken, but the shaking begins to ease.

I crouch in front of them and put both hands on his face. “Look at me.” He does.

I pull them both toward me. For a second, Valefar still feels rigid, like he hasn’t finished deciding whether it’s safe to stop bracing. Then something gives, and his arm comes around my waist while the other remains locked around Bethie.

I hold them tighter. Behind me, I hear my mother’s intake of breath. I give it a moment. Then I release them, stand, and turn around. She is standing in the center of my living room, still clutching the infernal objects, an expression of righteous concern, entirely certain of its own justification. At least she doesn’t stop me from taking away the incense holder. I’d prefer this discussion to have only one type of heat.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Mother. This is what’s going to happen.”

She opens her mouth.

“First,” I state, “you are going to apologize to me for entering my home without my knowledge or permission.”

“Vesper, I am your mother. I didn’t⁠—”

“Second. You are going to apologize to Vale for hurting him.” I gesture to him.

She wrinkles her nose. “I will not apologize for trying to save my daughter from a monster.”

Something in me goes very still. A hellbent force within me rises. A protective force. Something born of love and not fear. “Mom.” My voice stays even, thanks to years of practice and paganism. “You couldn’t get a single person to believe you, could you? Not the priest, not the diocese, not anyone you called. Nobody was willing to come here with you.”

Her chin lifts. A tell I have known since childhood. “I took pictures. For proof.”

I stiffen, less from fear and more from anger and betrayal. “Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Then show me.” Mom hesitates. “You said you have proof. Let me see it.” I know what she is going to show me, because we tested photography months ago.

Her mouth compresses. Something sour moves through her expression before she finally digs her phone from her purse and unlocks it. She doesn’t hand it over willingly. I take it anyway. The first picture is Valefar in the back of Vesper’s Vessels, glamour firmly in place, while he carries five boxes labeled ‘Heavy’.

Swipe.

She took various snapshots of Valefar walking with us, playing at the park with Bethie, raking leaves, even fixing the front lantern. I stop at the picture of Bethie on his shoulders, laughing so hard, her entire face has disappeared into her smile.

“Mom.”

She sniffs, clutching the crucifix tighter. “That isn’t what I saw.”

“You spent weeks spying on us.”

Her jaw tightens. “Pictures don’t show everything.”