I stare for a second before bursting into laughter. He laughs too, and pulls me next to his bare chest—which I will not think about at all—and kisses my forehead.
“She can be trouble,” I say.
“It’s where you get it from,” he says back.
I kiss him again. He gives me one back before getting up and putting his shirt back on. “I’m going to get us that ice cream now,” he says.
I nod and he tosses me a smile before disappearing out the door. I straighten my hair in the mirror and pick up Emmaline’s journal again.
21 October 1841
I have met the most enthralling and brave man. I was in a quaint part of town where Father does not let us travel, but I was there alone. If Father discovered it so I would most assuredly be reprimanded. It was inappropriate to be with him alone in the tresses of night, but I could not get away. I did not want to. He fawned over me like I was a prize, calling me honest, fair, and absolute. And I fancied him. I found his company refreshing; his words are sweet like honey and his kisses even sweeter. We have planned to meet again at the week’s end.
Connie is outside my room and I yell for her. A giggle fills the hallway, drifts in through the open the door. I hear Thomas’s hearty laugh, followed by hers, and I smile.
9 December 1841
Mayhap I have disgraced my family, but I have found myself in him. With him I feel things I have not felt in all my days. He ravished me with desire and I welcomed it. Now I am weary with wanting more. We steal our touches in the dark, and shadows alone know our secret. If my family discovers the truth they will be vile and destroy my love. I will tell them naught.
I turn the page again. Why is Emmaline’s lover unacceptable? Our family wasn’t upper society in those days, so what could be so bad about it? I doubt he sparkled.
13 February 1841
I have made myself a fool. My hasty actions have now left me without choices. While I am woeful of the reasoning, I am o’er wrought with joy at the adventure of child rearing. My, how things have changed! I will tell my family on the morrow and they will think me unwise and abhor my decisions. But I am uncaring. For he has told me all he has planned, that the babe and I will join him, and I cannot be more overjoyed. I am not hesitant. I do not fear this. I am deserving of rapture and on the morrow it will be mine.
I don’t even pause to breathe as I turn the page. What did she tell them?
4 March 1842
I’m leaving tonight. Then it will happen. He says it is time. My parents, my siblings are vile creatures. They do not even know the whole truth, for that would assuredly push them over the edge. They do not know what he is, what the baby is, what I’m about to become. My heart wants to tell them, but for the safety of my baby I cannot. I should make haste, but I need to record it here in case something happens, in case it goes wrong and I do not survive the transformation.
My love claims it will be a painful one—supposedly usual for a witch. He says it is a physical, emotional, and mental pain. Torment. I am ready, even as he says it is dangerous. The transition to dismiss the essence of holy magic for an endless void is not easy. Some bodies reject it. My essence is part of my soul, so I expect that it would struggle to remain so. A battle is pending. Should I survive it, I shall finally be found.
I turn the page. There’s nothing. That’s the end. How can that be the end? Did she die? A transformation can really only mean one thing, and it’s so abhorrent I don’t know how I could even think it.
“I have chocolate mint and peanut butter swirl,” Carter says. I turn around to face him and his brow scrunches up. “What’s wrong?”
I watch him set the ice cream on my dresser, still trying to process the end of Emmaline’s journey. “It’s over,” I say, passing it to him. He reads over the last line, his eyes widening.
“A transformation? She became a demon?”
I can’t speak, but it’s the only explanation. The only reason my family would wipe her out, would try to pretend that she had never existed. Her lover must have… Did anyone know about this? “What happened to her? Was it successful?”
Carter’s eyes get bright. “I know who can help us find out.”
Carter and I move as quietly as possible toward an old pizza joint, following the tracking device beeps. Now that we knew Vassago has a DNE, he was easy enough to find this time. We just had to enter a number and follow the pulse. A modern-day trail of bread crumbs.
The walls outside the joint are red and a few Nons go in and out the door. But I see our quarry almost immediately, and head in his direction. I’m not sure what to ask him first. Did Emmaline succeed? Is she a demon somewhere? Did she die? Did she choose the demon over her child because of how inferior she felt, or was it something else?
“What are you having?” a growl-like voice snaps from behind the counter. The guy before us is tall, the size of some ex-pro wrestler or gang enthusiast, and his eyes are a bright green. My instinct tells me to fight, to run, but Carter puts his hand on the small of my back, grounding me in place.
“Two slices of cheese and a Coke.”
“Diet Coke,” I say.
The burly guy takes our money, his lip snarled up. I don’t take my eyes off the old man sitting in the corner. He doesn’t take his eyes off me either. Carter presses on my back and we walk together toward the corner table.
“These seats taken?” Carter asks.
Vassago looks up at us, his beard hanging with strings of mozzarella. How does he get so disgusting? “Only if you’d like them to be,” he says.
My whole body is shaking and I know I’ll have to speak soon. The answer scares me almost as much as the question. Carter squeezes my hand.
“You have another request,” Vassago says. His voice is filled with amusement as Big Burly brings our order to the table. He shoots Vassago a look and the old demon waves him off.
I take a breath. “Emmaline Spencer—she was related to me. She fell in love and underwent the transformation. What happened to her?”
He raises an eyebrow toward Carter. “Have you found the one who seeks what you seek?”
Carter’s lips form a straight line. “Not yet.”
“Searching can be so tiresome when you come up with nothing,” Vassago says. His eyes drift back to me. “Have you seen my sock?”
I grit my teeth. I’d like to knock his other sock off. “No. Can’t say I have.”
“Perhaps you will dream about it,” he says.
His words catch me off guard and I balk. He can’t be implying that he’s giving me the dreams. That’s not his power. That’s not even possible. My stomach rumbles and I feel the magic stirring. Carter must feel it too, because he squeezes my hand again.
“Emmaline Spencer?” I ask quickly.
Vassago points to my pizza. “May I?” he asks.
I push the plate toward him and watch as he stuffs a bite in his mouth and chews like a cow. Slow and watchful. The corner of his mouth spreads into a smile. “Your quest is wasteful. Open your eyes, little witch, and find the answer.”
My brain tries to process what he’s saying. He’s getting up out of the chair and no. No. I can’t handle any more of these nonanswers.
“But you didn’t tell me where to go next!” I say.
Carter is pulling me up out of the seat and I push him away, slam my hand on the table in front of Vassago.
“Tell me.”
The demon smiles and then leans back, like he’s bored. “If you looked around, you would be free. The answer is in the past of one you daily see.”
Then he stands up and his metal chair flies across the floor. “Do not contact me again about these matters,” he says.