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Prologue
Aurora
Nine Years Old
The first week that I lived with my father was pure magic. I had no idea that he’d become even more of a monster than the family he’d saved me from.
We moved into a big, rambling house out in the country. The house had been sold with some of its furniture and books, and there were two dozen rooms to explore. I went through every musty-smelling book in the library, poked into every dusty corner, stepped into the enormous stone fireplace that was big enough for me to stand up in, and looked up to see if I could glimpse the blue sky through the flue.
The house backed to an endless fairy-tale forest. The only break in the greenery was the edge of a cliff, overlooking a long silver river that wound through the trees, with rocks breaking through the surface.
I’d stand at the edge and throw rocks and sticks into the river, watching them get dragged under the rushing water.
“Delilah,” the Demon said quietly.
I spun to face him, my heart beating fast. He must have seen the terror on my face because he knelt in the fallen leaves. One orange leaf landed in his dark hair, but he was too focused on me to notice. “Delilah, it’s all right. I just came out to check on you and found you standing here with your toes all but hanging off the cliff.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re a brave, fearless girl. I’m proud of every bit of you.” He smiled at me, his deep blue eyes creasing at the corners.
The warm glow in my chest felt like life. He looked at me like no one had ever before, as if he were pleased by me, delighted, even.
He straightened. “I thought we could go shopping today.”
“Shopping for what?”
“Whatever we find.”
We walked hand in hand back to the house, and he opened the back door for me, as if I were a princess and he was the coachman.
It was a long drive down the steep, wooded driveway before we turned onto a country road, then took the ramp for the highway.
When the two of us were at the mall, I kept stealing glances at another man and his daughter. She was a little younger than me, but she was gripping his hand and skipping. I eavesdropped, unable to stop myself or even hide the way I watched them. They were going to the movies. She looked as if she were a little older than me, but she still called himdaddy.
I could tell from the look on my father’s face that he’d caught me watching them. There was a knowing glint in his eyes. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks red.
I felt a little silly even wishing I could hold his hand; I hadn’t held anyone’s hand since I was five years old. I wasn’t a little girl anymore.
“You know, I’m just learning how to be a dad,” he said. “I’m sad I missed out on all the years when you were little. Sometimes it helps me to watch other people to know how I’m supposed to act.” In a quiet, confidential voice, he added, “I’ve been doing that all my life.”
“I feel like I have too,” I admitted.
He held out his hand, and feeling a little bit silly—but also warm and cared-for—I reached out and took his hand. It was okay that I felt shaky about how to be a normal girl, that I’d never fit in at school, because he did too.
“Can we go to the movies too?” I asked. I almost saiddad, but my tongue tripped over the words.
“Another day. We don’t have much time today.”
Disappointment flooded me. I’d never been to a movie that I could remember. “I wonder if my mom ever took me to a movie before she gave me up.”
He stilled. “You know your mother gave you up?”
I nodded.
“What do you remember about her?” His voice had taken on a cold, dark tone, and I shivered, wondering what I’d done wrong to make him mad. Maybe he didn’t like it when I talked about my mom.
“Nothing,” I lied, my voice coming out in a whisper.
