“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it, even sorrier that I’d brought it up in the first place. This was clearly a touchy subject for her.
She shrugged. “Been a long time, anyway. The past is in the past. People have always been tough to deal with, you know? It’s why I’m more concerned with objects. Things. Precious things.” She held her hands out in front of her, cupping an unseen orb. “Like that artifact I almost had. The one that got away.”
“I mean, I hate admitting it, too, but a lot of my magic depends on building a collection of books. I suppose it’s why Mr. Wrinkles brought us here, to see if I could convince Thoth to lend me something.”
“By building a collection, you mean building a stock of spells in your head from all the books you read.” She cocked her head quizzically. “Right?”
I pursed my lips. “Not exactly. It’s just as I described it. The more grimoires I own, the stronger I am. And I used to be pretty damn powerful, if I do say so myself. But Mother – I mean, Prince Asmodeus cut me off from my entire collection, which leaves me, well, here. Worthless. Weak.”
Crystal clapped me on the back, to my surprise. “Cheer up. You’re a clever boy. You’ll figure it out. Maybe there’s a lesson here, somewhere. Maybe we’re both meant to learn that we shouldn’t be so dependent on books and magic artifacts. On things.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right. And maybe we’re both supposed to learn that it’s okay to lean on other people for help. It’s frustrating, you know? Thinking all your life that you’ve got what it takes to be independent, to strike out on your own. And then you realize that you’re just – not. Not at all.”
She gave me a sad sort of smile. I thought her eyes might have been moist, but she rubbed at them with her hand, and the only expression left on her face was the huge, mischievous grin I’d come to associate with her.
“Well, anyway, I don’t need family. What I need is some damn good magical foci so I can pick myself up off my feet, rebuild. Can’t depend on people, but you sure as hell can depend on tomes, and wands, and artifacts.” She sighed, looking off into the horizon. “On the one that got away.”
“You may not believe me,” I said, “but I truly am sorry for causing the destruction of your home.”
She shrugged. “Water under the bridge. What are you gonna do about it, you know? Guess I’ll stick around as long as Bastet will have me. Not the worst deal, maybe her luck will rub off on me. Better yet, maybe I’ll get to sneak in when Thoth isn’t looking, filch one of his grimoires.” Her back straightened as she dazzled me with an even bigger smile. “I promise, I’ll save you the smallest scroll I find in there.”
I grimaced. “I can’t tell if you’re serious, but Dantaleon boobytrapped his library all the time. I can’t imagine that Thoth is just as cruel, but his collection won’t be undefended. Believe me on that.”
She chuckled. “You’re too serious, Quill. Or gullible. Maybe both.” She stepped back into the apartment. “Don’t stay up too late, now. Growing boys need their rest.”
I scowled at her. “Yeah, yeah.” A few more minutes to myself. That was all I needed. But Crystal put her hands on my shoulder, her nails pressing lightly into my shirt. I turned on my heel, wondering what else she wanted to say, only to come face to face with Asmodeus.
My blood ran cold. I stumbled back against the railing. “Mother?”
“My son,” said the Prince of Lust. “My beautiful boy. Won’t you come home?”
26
Asmodeus, Prince of Lust, one among the Seven, stood before me, her feet bare on the concrete balcony, her body festooned in jewels and little else. Mother was exactly as I’d last seen her, with hair as black and gleaming as oil spilling past her shoulders, with a beauty that was at once exquisite and almost agonizing to behold.
I never could forget, how everyone knew that the demon prince who was most familiar with pleasure was also very well versed in the art of pain. I never needed to be told. I think I knew of the pain better than anyone.
My eyes flitted towards the inside of the apartment, my mind split between running or calling out to one of the others for help, but none of them had noticed. Bastet and Crystal were playing with the cats. Thoth had taken up a comfortable position just next to Pierce, the two of them performing a snoring, droning duet.
“They do not know,” Mother said. “They cannot see. All they perceive is an image of you, still poised dramatically over the ledge, still gazing out into the city, lost in your thoughts. And what are your thoughts, my child?”
Asmodeus lifted one perfect hand towards my chin. I flinched away from her touch. A mother’s embrace, she called it, the most excruciating of her punishments, and her favorite way of showing me her displeasure. And oh, Asmodeus had very many reasons to be displeased with me.
“Don’t touch me,” I stammered.
She drew her hand back, a wounded expression on her face, something I regarded to be only as genuine as her forced affection for me. “I am only concerned for you, Quilliam. You’ve been out on your own in the terrestrial world. A mother worries.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” I said. “You turned me out yourself, remember? All for the sin of being unable to read your mind.”
Mother lifted her chin, all pretense of affection and adoration melting from her
