Page 43 of Eat, Slay, Love

“I’m telling you he doesn’t consume the core. I watched him feed from a man who walked away alive, conscious, and calmer than he was before.”

“Calmer,” Raf repeats skeptically.

“He was spiraling and violent. Jonah chose him because of it. He does research. He doesn’t hunt indiscriminately.”

Their gazes drift toward the maps again. The reinforced containment zones. The evacuation routes. Every detail Jonah and I spent hours planning.

“At minimum,” Gabriel says slowly, “he’s planning something.”

“Yes, to protect his soup kitchen. The blond demon confirmed Belvedere is targeting it,” I continue. “Tonight, on Halloween.”

“And you believed a demon?” Leo asks.

“I believed my magic.” I look at Gabriel. “I believe my forte.”

“You’re asking us to accept that killing shouldn’t be automatic,” Raf says.

“Yes.”

“That is not how we were raised,” Andres says.

“I know.” My voice catches despite myself. “But what if we were wrong?”

They look at me as though I’ve just proposed dismantling the foundation of the house we grew up in.

“You think Mom killed a good demon,” Leo says quietly.

I swallow. “I think Mom killed a demon who wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

“Belvedere is real,” I continue. “He is coming. And Jonah and I were going to stop him with preparation and strategy, not just brute force.”

Gabriel studies the evacuation routes again. “You were going to defend the soup kitchen.”

“Yes.”

“With a demon.”

“Yes.”

“From a demon.”

I resist the urge to growl. “Yes.”

They exchange a look that carries decades of shared training.

“You cannot seriously believe your magic can tell you which demons are good,” Raf says.

“That’s not what I said.” My frustration spikes. “It tells me intent. Demons still make choices. I’m saying we should be discerning enough to recognize those choices before we put a blade through someone’s heart.”

“That’s not how this works,” Andres insists.

“Fuck!” I tear my hands through my hair. “We’re not getting anywhere.” Of course we aren’t. I can stand here all night describing patterns and signatures and the difference my forte feels between Jonah and Belvedere, but none of them can feel what I feel. To them, it’s still just my word against everything we’ve been taught since birth.

I need them to understand.

I need them to see.

See.