Page 82 of Not Today, Satan
XXXIX.
The scents of salted meat and coffee make my stomach growl as I take a seat at the round table in the kitchen.
My shoulders are looser since sobbing in the shower, as if the tears had been hiding beneath my skin this entire journey until I was able to open my veins and release them.
Sunlight warms my damp hair through the window, and I close my eyes as the light soaks into my skin.
Nate was right. This is a different heat from Dominus. Down there, the air was suffocating. Here, the sun slides against my body like velvet, warming everywhere it touches without burning it.
Mom sets a plate of food and a mug of coffee in front of me. “I wasn’t sure if you drank this. If not, I can make more tea. I know your father loved it. He drank like ten cups a day.”
I nod. “We have coffee back home. Father uses fans to blow the smell into the lots sometimes. It’s another form of torture he concocted. Letting the shadelings smell it without bringing them any.”
She sighs. “How I fell in love with that man is beyond me.”
“Me too.” I shove a slice of bacon into my mouth and chew, my thoughts racing. “This means I’m half angel? If you were one when you got pregnant?”
“Maybe.” She peers over my shoulders. “Your wings certainly indicate your mixed heritage. Angels typically have gold woven into their feathers. Except our wings are usually various shades of white. I’ve never seen anything like yours.”
“They’re making it difficult to walk around Earth. Some douchenozzle even grabbed a feather.”
She takes a sip of coffee and raises an eyebrow. “Your father never taught you to glamour yourself? That’s how he visits Earth, and how I blended in until I had you.”
“Nope.” I roll my eyes and stab my fork into the center of the egg. The yolk bursts and flows across the white like lava over rocks. “Fire lessons, sight lessons, fighting lessons. But nothing useful up here. He forbade me from visiting, and now I understand why. He didn’t want me to learn the truth about myself. He’s ashamed of it.”
Ashamed of me.
That’s why he wants to abandon me in Hell. So he never has to be reminded of this abomination he created.
I mash the top of my egg until it’s no longer recognizable.
She presses her lips into a line. “I know nothing about controlling fire, but I can teach you to glamour. I mean, that’s what I do. I’m a teacher.”
“You teach humans?” I look up in surprise, and yolk flies from my fork and spatters the white table.
“It comes naturally to me. Kind of my gift, if you will.” She frowns and wipes away the yolk massacre with her napkin. “Your father probably didn’t teach you much about angels, but we all have our little gifts. I am—was—the angel of learning. And I can definitely teach my daughter how to make her wings disappear.” The gold in her eyes flickers as she jumps out of her chair and waves her hand for me to follow. “Stand up.”
My stomach flips. I’ve never had a parent who wanted to teach me anything.
Pushing my plate away, I ease out of my seat and stand beside her, noting that we’re the same height now that I’ve removed my boots.
“Using a glamour is easy,” she says. “You need to visualize yourself a different way—like, say, without your wings. If you will them to disappear, they will. It’s temporary, and only works so long as you’re consciously trying to hide them, but eventually it becomes second nature. Try it.”
I close my eyes and follow her directions. There’s a flutter, and the weight on my shoulders lessens. When I glance behind me, the wings are gone.
Cursing under my breath, I shove my hands onto my hips. “Seriously? I could’ve been walking around without these things in the way for months? Do you know what a pain it is to lug a pair of growing wings around Hell?”
“I suppose that’s why your father never taught you. Being able to change how you look to humans gives you more power over them.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to worry about my feathers getting caught on shit anymore.” She grimaces at the swear, but I sink into my chair and grab the last piece of bacon from my plate. “Everything makes so much sense now. Why I’ve never fit in at home, the wings, the weird visions. I only half belonged there.”
Mom wraps her hands around her coffee mug. “You’ve had visions?”
“I don’t know what I’d call them.” I cock my head. “Mr. B. says it’s the sight. I’m supposed to be able to see people’s sins. But sometimes I can see a person’s good deeds, too. Especially when—”
I clear my throat. I’m not exactly about to start telling my mother about making out with Nate. Not only is our time together private, but every time I think of him leaving, I want to lie in a dark room and never come out.
She smirks and leans back in her chair. “When did this start?”
