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as he could. She stood on shaky legs, but managed to walk if we went slowly. We had time, anyway. We lingered there for a moment, me and my weird little family. I was excited to introduce my mother to my even weirder friends, to bring her among those I loved the most.

But more than anything, I was so excited to bring her home.

32

“Passionfruit panna cotta,” said Marcel Dubois, pressing a chilled little ramekin into my hand. He bowed and waved his hand at Priscilla. “Courtesy of the chef.”

Priscilla covered her mouth and chortled. If gorillas could blush, I suppose you could say she was blushing.

This was a rare and extremely special day in Paradise, one that involved allowing a normal to access Artemis’s playground. It was a multipurpose thing, really. I wanted to make amends with Marcel for being such an ass about, well, basically everything. The Lorica thought that allowing Marcel to retain his memories of the arcane underground might make him a useful asset.

Really, the whole mess with the Hunger had been unprecedented. The human food and beverage industry was something that arcane authorities had never truly paid much attention to, because they didn’t really need to, not until some bastards started dabbling in supernatural cannibalism.

The Prince of Gluttony’s demise was even more reason to keep an eye on things. Beelzebub was dead, sure, but another demon would rise to claim his throne soon enough. The Lorica had some leverage, too. If Marcel squawked, then they could always come to the media with information about good old Marcus Dobbs from Brooklyn.

I gripped Marcel by the shoulder again, lowering my head. “Again, I’m really, really sorry for doing what I did. Threatening you was not cool, especially not after you fed us so well that one time.”

“Let bygones be bygones,” he said, fluttering his hands at me, his French accent back in full effect. “Besides, small price to pay to meet this very enchanting culinary genius of yours.” He glided straight back to Priscilla, the two of them cooking up an absolute storm in the kitchens.

The panna cotta, on top of everything else they’d made, was delicious. Creamy, sweet, and just slightly tart enough to be refreshing. The sweetness was just the glistening cherry on top of recent happy events. It had been a few days since the incident at Masaya Volcano. Mom was doing great, getting along alarmingly well with Artemis. The time she spent puttering and snacking in the kitchens made her a favorite with Priscilla, too. The only thing Priscilla liked more than cooking incredible dishes was feeding it all to someone who really appreciated it.

Mom was well on her way to getting her strength back, which meant we had spent long nights catching up, shooting the shit, just like old times. But it also meant me staying up late, and getting even less sleep because of that damn halo Sadriel had given me. I could never tell how Box could see things since he had no visible eyes, but it must have been such a treat. I had to force myself to sleep with a nightlight blasting right on top of my head.

Most of the others were feasting – rather, had been feasting in the dining area for what had felt like hours now. Mom was elated to be around people again, her eyes practically twinkling as she held court at the table.

“He was such a cute baby,” she said, double-fisting a banana and what appeared to be a sushi hand roll. I knew she was going to start with the embarrassing stories sooner or later. “So sweet and goodnatured.”

Artemis was elbow deep in a fresh bag of Snacky Yum-Yums. “And then he grew up into a salty grump.”

Florian pulled a face that was supposed to be what I looked like angry. I would’ve been offended if it wasn’t so funny.

The three of them threw their heads back and laughed. I shook my head, smiling. I could take Mom throwing me under the bus if it meant I got to see her happy. A couple of the others, like Sam and Apollo, had broken away from the main group for their own reasons. I found Sam glaring at the pages of some book under a palm tree. I bent to get a closer look at the cover. It said How to Raise Teenagers. I burst out laughing.

“You don’t need to be reading one of those,” I said, chucking him in the shoulder. “I think you’re doing a decent job all on your own.”

He shut the book sheepishly, slipping it into a back pocket like he’d been caught looking at some porn instead. “I just thought it might help. If more and more nephilim are awakening, then we’re gonna need to be ready to accommodate their needs. Especially if another one like her shows up.”

“I heard that,” Lina said, pushing her hands into her hips, looking every bit as tall as Artemis when she got a little heated.

“Sam’s not wrong,” I said. “He needs all the help he can get when it comes to dealing with little squirts like you.”

Lina scoffed. “I am not a squirt. Anyway, you’re only nineteen. You’re just a kid, too.”

“Am not,” I said, unsuccessfully making a case for my own maturity, never mind that I flip-flopped between considering myself a kid or a man, depending on what was convenient. “I am not a kid.”

She chuckled. “You just stomped your foot, kid.”

I turned to Samyaza. “I’m not loving how this is going.”

He shrugged. “You wanted to meet your siblings, well, here’s one of them. Haven’t you looked in the mirror, Mason? You kids are probably a lot more alike than you think.”

I narrowed my eyes at Lina. “Probably.”

“At least I smell better,” Lina muttered.

“I heard that.”

“And I’m out of here,” Sam said, pulling the book out again. “I’m getting to the part about resolving conflict. This should be fun.”

I frowned at his back as he walked away, then winked at

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