Page 81 of Beneath the Watching

“You interrupted him,” she complained to me. “He was telling me about how Betty was spending entirely too much time in Harold’s nest.”

“Is that so?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

Zyra pressed her lips together and tilted her head at me. “It's not funny, he really loves her.”

“They’re birds, little sister,” I admonished her. “Community nests.”

“No,” she corrected me, planting her hands on her hips. “Crows are monogamous.”

She puzzled a moment. “I think so?” She wondered aloud.

“I don’t know anything about the beasts but be careful before they claw your eyes out.”

Horror distorted her features over my words. “Samson would never do that!”

“I’m teasing,” I reassured her. “But be cautious anyway.”

My sister crossed the floor and approached me, wrapping her arms around my waist and giving me a quick hug. “They’re so smart, they wouldn’t hurt me. And look at this, Samson brought me a ring.”

Zyra held up a finger, displaying a small gold ring with a green gemstone. “Isn’t it pretty?”

I held her wrist, bringing the jewelry closer. “Is your bird a thief?” There was no telling where the crow had retrieved the item. It could’ve come from anywhere.

Doubt filled her gaze and then she giggled and pulled the piece off. “Here, for you. Keep it safe. It is my gift to you.”

“I always wanted stolen goods,” I joked but accepted the item and slid it into my pocket. “Mother is going to Court tonight for a festival. She asked me to check in on you. I think she wants you to go with her,” I told her.

“Gross,” Zyra complained. “She just wants me as her plus-one.”

The festivals often turned into orgies and Zyra had never had the stomach for it. In my younger years, I’d partaken in the revelry but for me, it’d gotten old quickly. Too many bodily fluids.

“You don’t have to go,” I remarked as she turned to leave.

She met my gaze. “I’m not, she’ll just give me a hard time anyway.”

Zyra had been having to deal with our mother’s jealousy ever since her body had developed and a natural affinity for magic had blossomed. Any power or sorcery our parent possessed had been gifted to her or came through a successful spell, due to her being a full-blooded human. Our father was a demon god without any other DNA to taint the purity.

As half-breeds, my sister and I possessed the best of both worlds, depending upon how one looked at it. It was impossible to be fully accepted into either world and I suspected it was due to the advantage we had.

To be human meant we could fully explore the intricacies of a full range of emotions and utilize them for manipulation and intuition. To be demon meant we were born with innate magic.

Our demonic peers claimed we were compromised by weakness and controlled by our consciousness. Our human peers claimed we were compromised by a lack of morals and an affinity for evil.

Really, if we were so inclined, we could utilize both sides and bring them together in a remarkable way.

In the meantime, we held the knowledge of our humanity close to our chests and bonded ourselves to a vow of silence on the matter and passed ourselves off as fully demonic.

“Are you going to let her know, or should I?” Often, I placed myself in the line of fire when it came to our mother. Zyra was a beautiful woman, and that beauty was used to pull men greater than our father in, with promises of threesomes and other activities my sister wasn’t fond of. Turning down such opportunities brought the spotlight as demon females were not ones to ever reject any sexual action.

Mother regularly used her promiscuity to be gifted with any number of magical advantages and Zyra was the bait. Ourfather was frequently away on business, completely oblivious to his wife’s indiscretions. We had no way of knowing how he’d react to his human wife’s embarrassing behavior whenever he returned but so far, no one had clued him in.

She sighed dramatically and answered, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” I crossed my arms against my chest. She’d been fussing recently about being more independent and I understood, but I took my job as her older brother seriously.

Zyra groaned. “If I don’t, she’ll write father another letter about how sneaky I am.”

She had a point. The last missive she’d received had been nothing but a lecture on her behavior. It was all lies, what he’d been told, and I planned on setting the record straight, in person, when he returned. Not that I hadn’t tried multiple times, before.

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