Page 13 of Princess of Hell

“Do you want the spell, Princess, or not? That’s my price, and it’s non-negotiable.”

“Fuck. Hand me a fire knife, would you please.”

Jacks watched the scene with a shocked and puzzled expression. Even a shifter can still be surprised by the deeper layers of magic.

The witch stepped toward a small cabinet. She returned with a silver knife in her hand. I grabbed the handle and waited. The witch moved her wrist over the edge of it, mumbling words I couldn’t understand. My Aramaic isn’t that good. The blade caught fire. The flame was golden-red then shifted to blue. My hair, like everything else about me, was demonic and had its own set of needs. I took a strand between my fingers and cut it with a swift movement of the blade.

The witch held a tray made of copper in front of me. “Place it here, please. I know it burns.”

“Does it really, even after it’s detached from me?”

Just as I asked this question, I watched the strand of my hair move like a snake on the tray before it curled up and stood there, like a viper ready to strike at the first movement.

“Each part of you is dangerous, Princess.”

“Hey, you seem to know a lot about me. What’s your name?”

“Anne”

“Really?” My face froze in an expression of stunned surprise.

“Do you have a problem with my name, Princess?”

“I was expecting something less… Christian? Maybe something like Water or Storm.”

Anne laughed. Her thick dreadlocks moved with her laughter. “My father is human and he liked the name. I use Astera for the clueless ones, but you, Princess, I’m honored to have you in my shop.”

“Can you help me, Anne? I need to find my necklace.”

Anne made a hand gesture and the shutters closed. Jacks kept watching Anne, fascinated. Her grey eyes had that effect. One couldn’t take their eyes off them.

“Let me see. I’m going to do my best, Princess. What you need--to trace an object stolen from Hell--is complicated.”

“Chris said you’d be able to.”

Anne bowed. “Kristobaldus Demonus Primus is my God. I’ll do everything he asks.”

It was weird to see someone talking like that about Uncle Chris. I mean, it’s Chris. My best buddy, the lord or sarcasm Chris, the guy whose worst curse word is “peasants.” As I thought of him, a painful tug messed the inside of my chest in the way it always does when I think about Chris. Did I miss him that badly? I assume I did. Images of lonely nights when I imagined more between him and me appeared in front of my inner eye.

“Yeah, totally. What you said. So, can you do a location spell?”

“It would help to know what powers the object has.”

I shrugged. “No powers as far as I know. It’s just an heirloom from my mom.”

Anne nodded, but her face betrayed her. “Please focus on it, and keep your eyes closed. Try to imagine it in all its details. Try to grasp the connection you have to the object.”

I closed my eyes and envisioned my crescent moon necklace. It was so pretty, perfect, with its small sparkling diamonds and silver chain. I took a deep breath. Scents that were not familiar to me filled the room. I could taste scented smoke and hear Anne chanting something. I couldn’t tell if it was in Aramaic.

Images of a tall, thin woman with long blonde hair sparkled in front of me. She was smiling. Her mouth looked so much like mine—full, pouty lips that opened for a smile that warmed my heart in a way I had never felt before. I tried to catch glimpses of her face but, like in my memories, each time I tried to focus on my mother’s face, on those few sparkles of memory, she slipped away.

The necklace appeared around her neck, shining and pretty as if all the stars were caught there and sparkled so strong.

“Silver.” The name slipped from the image’s lips. It held so much love it melted my heart.

“Mama.” Was that my voice?

The image knelt in front of me and placed the necklace around my young throat. “As long as you keep this, I’ll always be with you.”

---