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“Splendid. She would greatly approve,” he says, then he continues his story. “One day, I decided it would be fun to play a trick on her. What I didn’t count on was how clever she was. And at the time, she already had two children, and I don’t think she wanted a third. And I certainly didn’t want another child.
"Anyway, I played with her. I lifted the water at her spell, and at first, shock registered on her face as though she thought it was she who had conjured the movement. But witches only have an affinity for one element unless, of course, they are you.” He bows his head.
“But she was clever, and she realized it wasn’t her doing it. I left before she could see me, but I came back, day after day, and repeated the conjuring. She looked for me every time. Sometimes she would bring her two kids. Others, it was just her alone.” He takes another long drink, and I watch as the glass refills itself. “We did this song and dance for almost a year until one day, she started yelling, and I knew it was directed at me.
“You see, we don’t have the same desires as you. Yes, we are demons, and we love lust…fucking,as you like to put it. But nothing more. Ever.”
I go to speak, but he continues. “Until her.”
“She was beautiful,” I say.
“She was more than beautiful, child. She was magnificent,” he says a little wistfully. “I had played with her for so long that I decided it was time to finally meet her. And on that day, she didn’t have her children with her—it was just her by herself, screaming at the top of her lungs. I don’t think she was expecting me, of all people, to appear. Actually, I’m not even sure she knew who I was at first, but she knew I was powerful all the same.
“Your mother had a rare gift. She could smell power a mile away. She could tell you what someone’s gift was and describe it to you in detail. When she started describing mine, I sat there watching her in complete fascination that she knew the tricks up my sleeve that no one else could possibly realize.”
He takes another drink and leans forward. “I tried to kiss her that first day, and she slapped my face and told me she was already spoken for.” He smiles at the memory. “But I continued to show up every day after, and so did she. I don’t think she understood what game she was playing with me and what a dangerous game it was.
"I kissed your mother for the first time a year after meeting her. It wasn’t long after that I had her, and not once did she mention a partner again when she came to visit me, nor did she speak of where her girls were.”
I smile, thinking of her talking about them.
“We continued to sneak away to see each other and steal kisses through the night. She never once asked me who I was, but I think she knew in the end. I remember the last night I saw her. I had a feeling she was pregnant, but I couldn’t be sure if it was mine or the other children’s father, so I didn’t question it.
“She called things off”—he pauses like it causes him pain—“and told me she would never visit me again and for me to never try to contact her. I am the King of Hell, it’s not like I take no for an answer. So when she did stop showing up, I remember visiting her without her knowledge, but I think she knew. Because, as I said, your mother was incredibly good at smelling power.
“She was heavily pregnant with you, and a part of me knew that you were my child. The other part didn’t want to acknowledge the fact, as I already had one child, and he was a handful, so I left, and never returned. It was easy as that. I figured the day she would die, I would see her again, as she did sin with me after all. But your mother is as pure as snow, and not even I could have her for eternity. The gods would not be that kind.”
I sit quietly, watching him talk of her in the way of someone whom he once loved and lost, but he says he cannot love. I wonder how true that statement actually is.
“Do you miss her?”
“That is fickle, wouldn’t you say? Missing someone when you are incapable of love?”
“No, I would not say. I miss her deeply and wish I had more time with her.”
“You look just like her.”
“We all do,” I tell him. “My sisters and I, that is.”
“Yes, I remember them.” He stands and smiles. “Come, let me show you something.”
“Should I trust you?” I ask knowing full well it’s the silliest question to the ask the devil, but I do anyway.
Lucifer throws his head back and laughs. “Ah, sweet girl, you should never trust anyone.” He leans in and whispers, “Ever.” Then he proceeds to walk out of the room, and I follow.
I shouldn’t trust anyone?
I trust my sisters.
Don’t I?
At least, I think I do.
We enter another room, and this one is full of pictures. They’re of him and my mother. There are so many of them scattered everywhere. I reach for one, skimming my finger over her face, and warmth blooms in my chest.
“You can have it.” I look over my shoulder to find him watching me. “Cameras became a thing of the past as the centuries went on, but I always loved the device and kept it. I introduced it to your mother, and she also fell in love with the contraption and would take endless photos of everything, including me.” He smiles.
“Aren’t you meant to be bad?” I ask, completely thrown off by everything happening right now.
