Page 83 of Married to the Devil

The coloring page pulls a tiny smile from Celeste, so I’m counting it as a win even though she denied any form of entertainment we offered her, preferring to watch her brother color. Or maybe unwilling to allow him out of her sight.

“Don’t you need to ask us what happened?” she whispers, her blonde brows furrowing before her eyes flare. “Or have you guys given up trying to find our moms?”

“We don’t want to pressure you.” I nod toward Timothy at the coffee table who hums as he colors. He’s not paying attention to our conversation and that makes this easier. “You and your brother have been through a lot. Are you okay talking about it?”

“Are they going to find them?” Her words are shaky as she ignores my question.

I sit back. Even though we are champing at the bit to gain as much information as we possibly can, I refuse to push her pastwhat she’s comfortable talking about. This is something that must be done at their pace.

“Stoneheart is working on it,” I say. I may be wary of the gargoyle, but I have every confidence that he is devoted to protecting the people in his territory. Even if it involves traveling to the fae plane, an option that makes me itchy with how risky that would be for him.

She doesn’t look at all assured, and it hurts that I know the real concern in her question. Are her mothers even still alive?

I clear my throat and recall what I know about sirin. “Your kind are prized for your singing ability. There’s a good chance he’ll find them.”

Celeste blinks a couple of times before she nods. “Okay.”

“I want Dad,” Timothy interjects, staring at the end of his colored pencil. His lower lip trembles.

“Dad is away,” Celeste says, sounding tired.

I blink. “You guys have a dad?”

The teenager gives me a droll look. “That is how babies are made.”

I whip my phone out to message Silas. There had been no mention of a father figure. Sirin, like harpies, are only female. They select breeding partners outside of their kind with the girl children taking after their mother and the boy children, the selected male.

Harpies culturally don’t include the fathers in their family structures, but sirins are such a small population that I don’t know what their tradition is. Since there were only the two mothers on the lease, we’d been assuming the father was out of the picture.

“What is his name? We can contact him,” I say.

Celeste looks cautiously optimistic. “His name is Torin Black, but you probably won’t be able to get ahold of him.”

I move to start messaging contacts, not wanting to disappoint her.

“I’ll summon him,” Timothy proudly announces.

“It won’t work.” Celeste tries to explain as she rolls her eyes. “Our dad is a demon. Like you. He travels to the demon plane for work. He’s not supposed to be back for another couple of weeks and anyway, Timmy’s too young to summon.”

“Am not!” Timmy frowns hard like he’s concentrating. The air wavers for a moment, but nothing happens. I roll my shoulders. The boy is still too young to tap into much power, I hadn’t identified him as a demon until his attempt, but there was a fire associated with the energy that has me mentally sorting through the various contacts I have on the demon plane.

Celeste’s shoulders drop in disappointment. “See.”

I open my mouth to reassure Celeste, but Timmy pulls a piece of jewelry from his jeans pocket and holds it up proudly. I freeze.

“I’m old enough to get this, aren’t I?” he says.

“What is that?” I ask, measured even though excitement sparks at the intricate design.

“The group who came in the night each had one around their neck,” Celeste says with a shrug. “He must have grabbed it before they locked us up.”

The spark turns into a flame. That looks like a charm, and I happen to know a witch who would be very interested in seeing it. If it’s something that can affect wards, this might be exactly what Stella needs to make a counter charm.

“May I have that?” I ask Timmy who frowns at first so I continue, “It would help us find out about the people who took you and keep other people in the territory safe.”

Timmy thinks hard for a moment before handing over the item. “I want to help.”

“Thank you,” I say, suddenly humbled. The kid just was rescued from a cage and still has the room to be generous.

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