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eyes have started to glow dangerously. “No one’s my master,” he growls, and there’s much more weight to that growl now.

“You lie like your beng dadrus, the Prince of Lies—”

“He doesn’t like that name, and after this morning he’s probably listenin’.”

The Billigoat takes several draws on his cigarette before he responds. “We won’t let you make her one of you.”

“It’d be her choice,” Jou responds. I shiver despite the warm water and the heat of his body. I didn’t have any idea he wanted to make me a demon.

“I’m not damned,” I say weakly.

“Don’t have to be for what I had in mind. But it’s a waste of breath. The only way to the Pillar is through the old man an’ he says no. So forget it.”

“Tell her why you wanted it, beng,” the Billigoat says mulishly.

The demon chuckles against my ear. “You in the mood for a history lesson, sweet meat?”

I’m in the mood for anything that keeps him chuckling. Particularly since I’m naked and he’s got his hands on some very critical parts. “Okay.”

“Three ways to make a demon. The birds ‘n’ bees way. The severe fuck-up way. An’ the third way. We don’t talk about the third way.”

“Why not?” I ask breathily, because he’s started to stroke my breast. Probably just to piss my uncle off. But whatever the intent, it has the predictable effect. My body tightens. A familiar ache begins between my legs. My hips rise a little against his hand and he rubs his thumb over my inner thigh.

“’Cause it’s a big dark secret. Whaddo you think nasty little warlocks like your dead friend would do if they found out you didn’t have to be damned to have the strength and power of a demon? They’d be fallin’ over each other t’get downstairs. An’ we got enough problems as it is without bein’ overrun by those power-hungry little fucks.”

“Oh.” I decide in that moment that I don’t want to know what the third way is. The less I know about something diabolists desire so badly, the better.

My uncle, however, doesn’t share my reservations. “What’s the third way?”

“Bathin’ in the Pillar of Fire.”

That doesn’t sound so bad.

“After havin’ your veins filled with demon blood and your womb with demon seed.”

I gulp. “You, you—”

He nips the rim of my ear and speaks into my mind. I haven’t done anythin’ yet, sweet meat. I’m just enjoyin’ you.

But you asked your father—

Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ about it. But I haven’t done anythin’. Nothin’ has to happen yet.

Nothing except me sending him back to Hell as soon as possible.

I don’t want to become a demon.

How d’you know?

I just know!

You don’t know anythin’ about it. Lemme show you what it can be like before you make any stupid decisions.

Wanting to retain my humanity isn’t stupid!

You don’t know that, either. Anyway, the old fuck’s barred me from the Pillar, so right now it’s all a waste of breath.

Then why are we talking about it?

Your uncle started it. I told you to forget it.

“Káulochírilo,” my uncle-who-started-it says, and there’s a note of pleading in his voice.

For a moment, I see what he must see. Me lying against the demon, his arms around me, his mouth so close to my ear that it must look like he’s whispering to me. Like I’m completely in his thrall.

“It’s okay, Goat. It can’t happen against my will.”

“Your will? What will have you in the face of this archere?”

“Archere? Come on,” I complain. “At least use words I know.”

It’s old English, the demon supplies. Means seducer.

Well, that fits.

He chuckles inside my head and licks my ear in a way that sends hot shivers up my spine.

“The beng will destroy you, káulochírilo,” my uncle says in his best voice-of-doom. I scowl at him.

“Yes, I got that, Uncle.”

Not destroy. What’s the fun in that?

Can we talk about something else? And can we have this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere other than my bathtub? Being caught between my uncle and the demon – naked – is beginning to really get on my nerves.

He started it. I just wanted a bath.

Oh, yes, Mr. Innocent. Aloud, I say, “Okay, truce. Now I know what he was planning and everyone knows how I feel about it. End of discussion. Can I finish my bath, please?”

“The longer you linger in the beng’s embrace, the less you’ll be able to resist him, chavi. You have to break free of him now. There is another—”

“Another what?” I ask suspiciously. Is he about to offer the demon a substitute? I sit up, not caring what I bare. “You’d better say another way, Goat. If you offer him a substitute, I swear I’ll make sure you never leave Limbo.”

My uncle puffs on his cigarette in glowering silence. I glare back at him, getting so angry I’m surprised the water doesn’t boil.

“You’re disgusting, all of you!” I shout at him.

“We’re only thinking of you,” my uncle mutters around his cigarette.

“Right, thinking of me. Just like you’ve always thought of me, hauling me from place to place. Never giving me a home. Never letting me have any friends of my own. Keeping me isolated and afraid of anyone who wasn’t just like me. You know what?” I plant my hands on the rim of the tub. Hear the ceramic crack. Smell the ozone that overpowers the sweet scent of lavender. “There is no one like me! I’m a freak! Even in my own family, I’m a freak. And I’m glad! Because I’d rather be a freak than be like you!” I raise my hand and spit through my outstretched fingers.

My spittle tears through the ghost, shredding him into flakes of ectoplasm that spatter across my toilet.

I haul myself out of the bathtub, slopping water onto the tiles. “Another goddamn mess in my house!”

I stretch out my hands, call and feel the earth under the foundations, the wind blowing beyond the windows, respond. I twist my fingers together, winding and knotting the energies I’ve called, flick the spell off my

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