Page 53 of Eat, Slay, Love

“Because I didn’t understand it,” I reply. “I thought it was hesitation. Weakness, even, because of you. I thought it meant I was failing.” I can still feel the resistance of that blade. Still hear Tasha’s voice breaking against my circle. “It isn’t,” I continue. “It’s the manifestation of my forte.”

My mother’s eyes sharpen.

“I can feel what a demon intends to do,” I say. “Not how powerful it is. Not how old it is. What it intends to do, and whether those intentions are good or bad, helpful or harmful.”

She says nothing.

“Gabriel can feel it too,” I add quietly.

My mother’s jaw tightens. “Intent is irrelevant.”

“No,” I say, and my voice doesn’t shake. “It isn’t.”

She steps forward. “Mayari⁠—”

“You killed demons who weren’t going to harm anyone,” I say. “Families. Children.” The accusation hangs between us, raw and undeniable.

Her expression hardens into a defensive shield. “You are emotional,” she says. “You are injured⁠—”

“I am correct,” I interrupt harshly. The words surprise both of us, but my magic hums beneath my skin, steady and certain. “Jonah isn’t like Belvedere,” I say. “My magic knows the difference. I know the difference. And you need to be thanking him for defeating Belvedere and protecting mankind, too.”

My mother stares at me as if she’s trying to reconcile the daughter she raised with the one standing in front of her.

“You will call Tribunal,” I tell her. “You owe me this. After my—after our sacrifice—” I sneer the words, “—it’s the least you can do.”

“Tribunal is not convened lightly.”

“This changes everything,” I say. “Every slayer family needs to know. We don’t just sense demons. We can read them. We can choose. Jonah was fighting Belvedere, protecting the soup kitchen from him. He di—” my throat closes up before I can say it. “Is that not proof enough?”

Her silence stretches.

I hold her gaze.

Finally, she inclines her head once. “I will convene Tribunal,” she concedes.

Relief crashes through me, sharp yet fleeting. “Good,” I manage to reply.

She watches me for another moment. “Where are you going?”

“The soup kitchen.”

“Why?”

Because Belvedere didn’t operate alone. Because demons like him leave wreckage behind. Because Jonah is gone, and the place he protected is vulnerable. Because my magic is still searching for him, and it hasn’t found him yet. “Because it needs protecting,” I tell her instead, and it’s the truth. I brush past her before she can stop me.

Outside in the hallway, I nearly collide with Gabriel. He’s leaning against the wall across from my bedroom door, arms folded, the posture casual in a way that fools no one who grew up with him. He’s been waiting. His eyes sharpen the second he sees me upright. “You’re awake.”

My throat feels raw, as if I’ve been screaming for hours. Maybe I was. “What happened to him?”

Gabriel exhales through his nose, slow and measured, deciding how much truth I can survive. “We brought him to New York-Presbyterian,” he says. My brain struggles to connect the dots, but then he adds, “Tasha Greene’s ER.”

My hand moves before I think about it. The smack against the side of his head echoes down the hallway. He barely flinches, just closes his eyes briefly like he expected it.

“Mayari—”

“Was he alive?”

Gabriel hesitates. That hesitation opens a pit inside my chest. “He had a hole through his stomach, Mayari,” he says carefully. “Not in. Through.”