14 11| Athena

Neither Griffin nor Sebastian's journal gave me any information, so I put them both down in exchange for my thoughts.

In my notebook, I had a list of things I knew: the seven sins, how they were created, the prophecy, Mother, my cousin Clare, and three sins I knew plus their powers. Oh, and weapons that glowed sometimes, plus that one time I fought with Sebastian, and it seemed like somebody else was telling me what to do. With everything else that had happened, it had kind of slipped my mind, but now, with my homework done, journals read, and Griffin downstairs giving me some alone time to focus, now was as good as time as any to figure it out. I flipped to a new page.

Maybe the Sins had something right—keeping a journal was very important.

"Okay, so," I muttered out loud, chewing on the bottom of my pen to figure out where to start, "what do I remember?"

It was a few days ago, but I remember the gist of the situation. I was angry with Sebastian, I told him to get a weapon, and we started fighting. At first, everything was cool, I was moving like I would, but then something happened.

<i> Sebastian was in front of me, sword countering my attacks. The sound of the blades hitting each other were nails on a chalkboard, but it also made this weird feeling surge through me, like something had been awakened. My body was becoming tired. I felt angry and irritated but also afraid. While I was working hard, Sebastian didn't seem to be working at all. He swung the sword at me, the tip of the blade close to my neck. I knew he wouldn't swing at me, but something about it felt wrong. I ducked, swinging the saber, heart pounding. That awakened feeling was getting stronger. Sebastian swung again. That was when the first instruction came.</i><span> Slide on the floor.</span>

There it was. I wrote that moment down.

<i> While I listened to the instructions, I filed it to the back of my mind for later. The voice was female, a little husky, powerful. It echoed through my skull, demanding me to listen. It was angry, too. It—she—didn't like Sebastian. She especially didn't like him swinging at me. The next instructions were a series of short commands—blade up, swing, counter, stay steady—that didn't really need saying, if that made sense. It was like I already knew them. Before she could tell me, I was doing it. Or maybe we were doing it simultaneously.</i>

<i> Sebastian and I continued to fight until Sebastian pushed down on my blade, trapping me onto the ground. My arms burned, but I kept my saber perpendicular to his sword, pushing back with everything I had. Holding my own.</i>

Strength to beat Sebastian? That just didn't make sense. I could barely lift my backpack on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I had three classes. I marked that down, too.

<i> We stayed like that until Sebastian told me to stand down, his voice gruff. He looked scary, not the Sebastian I knew and loved, but like a demon. I didn't like being told what to do, but I was tired of fighting him. I could've stood down, or I could've fought back, which I did. The next command held a different kind of anger behind it—attack. I closed my eyes to finish, wanting to obey the command over Sebastian. I gathered what little strength I had, knowing this had to be the final blow. Behind my eyes I saw a figure in white, shrouded in golden light, raising a saber, with big, white—</i>

<i> Wings.</i>

I opened my eyes, not needing to see anymore. What came after was me flying across the room and definitely calling a draw to me and Sebastian's fight (although he later argued that he won since he stood up first). I wished, not for the first time, that I had been able to draw because when I thought back to it, I saw the angel as clear as day. Tall, big white, feathered wings protruding from his olive skin. A sky blue robe with curly brown hair, an angry expression as he looked down on—on something. Sighing, I put my pencil down, trying to make sense of it.

Me. Super strength. An angel. Knowing how to fight but not really knowing.

"Griffin!" I yelled, pushing my chair back as it hit me. Griffin was downstairs, cooking for me and "finding sources," which really meant he was scrolling through his phone for girls, trying to make plans for when I was in class and he didn't have to babysit me. We had spent a total of eight hours together, him coming in this afternoon after class to make sure I got home safely, which included me getting to drive his super rare sports car down the highway and a pit stop for ice-cream on the way.

Swinging the door open, I bounded down the stairs quickly, turned the corner sharply, and saw him standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. It smelled delicious, whatever it was. "Yes?" He arched an eyebrow, amusement etched into his features.

There were three things I knew about Griffin already: he was nosy (he kept asking questions about my love life), he liked sex (seriously, he was giving his brother a run for his money), and he was never, ever, ever serious about anything (I had totally almost crashed his car into a tree, and he hadn't done anything but laugh it off).

"What do you know about angels?" I walked into the kitchen and hoisted myself up on the counter.

He watched me carefully, not missing a single thing I did. It made my skin itch, not in a bad way, but in a way that made me feel very aware of every movement I made. "I don't care about anything but myself and sex, so nothing." He went back to stirring the pot.

Oh. I took a deep breath. "Do you know where I can find information about them?"

"Listen, about twenty years ago, they invented this thing called the Internet. It used to be dial-up and really slow, but thanks to pioneers of the future, if you have a question, you can—"

"Shut up." I laughed.

Griffin smirked. "I know a little about them. Why? Did you figure something out?"His tone held genuine excitement. He really wanted me to figure this out before Mother rose, even if he didn't believe I could do it.

I relayed the story of the fight to him, making sure not to leave out a single part. "And then I saw this angel." I would've brushed it off at any other point, but this had to mean something. If demons walked the Earth, angels had to too, right? "Super strength, fighting ability, doesn't that sound like Nephilim?"

He stopped stirring, giving it serious thought for a few seconds.

It made sense to me. I had to be Nephilim, the descendant of a fallen angel and human. It explained why my family saw visions, had weird dreams. Even if we didn't know, it was instinctual for us to know these things, since we were these things. It was also the link between Clare and me, what made us a part of this world. It still didn't explain who Mother was or why she wanted us, but we were getting closer.

"What color did you say the light from the blade was?"

"A blinding white, like the purest white I've—"

Griffin shook his head. "Not Nephilim then."

"Why not?" I demanded. If not Nephilim, then what else could there be? There were no offspring between regular angels and humans. They would never betray God like that. I knew I had seen an angel, and I knew it wasn't my imagination. I had heard that voice, and it was deep inside of me, buried somewhere and waiting for me to unlock it. I had made Sebastian break a sweat, so there was something special about me. About Clare, too, I was willing to bet. Whatever this was, we shared it.

"The Nephilim," Griffin explained, turning the stove down and looking at me, "cannot wield a blade of pure white light. Remember, they descend from fallen angels. They sin, tempt humans to do evil, and do all sorts of dirty things to you fragile little beings. Their blades don't light up at all."

Great. "Is there a chance someone else made the blade light up?" Maybe I was just a regular human after all.

Griffin shook his head. "Angel weapons don't work that way."

"Then how do they work?" For someone who claimed he didn't know anything about them, he sure knew a good bit about what they didn't do and what they weren't. I didn't say anything, though. I didn't want him to pull a Sebastian and stop speaking.

"Do you have your weapon on you right now?" he questioned.

Dread pulled at me. I didn't feel like another fight, especially not with Griffin.

He laughed. "Don't make that face. I want to show you the difference between a weapon formed by the Heavens, and one formed in the Underworld." He rolled his sweatpants up and pulled out a knife. It was similar to Sebastian's sword—black blade, silver hilt with a blood-red jewel in the middle. "This is forged by the best blacksmith in the Underworld, a guy we call 'Bob.'"

Bob? I started to remark and thought better of it.

"I can go get the saber if you want," I offered. I was interested in the lesson. This definitely beats anything I was learning in class. "Or any of the other angel weapons." Sebastian had a wall full of them.

Griffin grinned. "I've already gotten it." A second later, another him appeared, holding my saber. The second Griffin handed it to me with a sweeping bow and a teasing grin. As soon as he stood up, he disappeared into the original Griffin. I made a mental note to ask about the mechanics of his power later. I didn't think it'd help, I was just curious. "As I was saying, since white is deemed the color of all things good, our weapons are black, the exact opposite. They'll never light up and not because we can't make them, but we don't want them to. Do you know what John 8:12 says?"

I shook my head. I was more of an Easter/Christmas Christian and not the Christian who could spout bible verses.

"'Then spake Jesus again unto them saying, 'I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.' Jesus is the light, and the fallen angels rejected Him, so they do the complete opposite. Also, each of our weapons has a blood-red diamond in the hilt. I'm not sure why. I think it's because it looks cool."

"You know, maybe the answer to our questions about Mother is in the Bible."

Griffin rolled his eyes. "Or not. There are thousands of religious texts we could look through." He paused his lesson about weaponry. "There is no one correct religion. Nobody got it all right. Everybody has at least one thing right."

"So holy underwear is a real, religious thing?"

He stared at me blankly. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and not just because I'm one of the unholiest beings on this planet, but I feel as if what you said was offensive to someone."

I didn't respond.

"This is why wars are started over God," he muttered under his breath. "No one ever started a war over the devil."

"They were too busy starting wars because of him."

He took a deep breath and looked to the sky as if to ask God for patience—I had seen this look many times for my elementary school teachers when I demanded answers to questions they didn't know—and oh the irony. He repeated 'holy underwear,' with a questioning tone under his voice one more time before proceeding with the lesson. "Back to angel weapons: anybody can use one. I could pick your saber up right now and go on a killing spree with it—but I won't be able to reach its full capabilities. In order to do so, you have to either be an angel or pure of heart."

Pure of heart. Hm. "Well, we know I'm not an angel," I stated out loud, feeling my way around the 'pure of heart' statement. I wondered what that entailed. How did one become pure of heart? What were the criteria for it? In theory, I was sure you had to be a good person with good intentions but did I truly have them? I was kind of selfish. I was ready to throw my cousin out to the wolves to preserve my own life. That didn't seem very pure to me.

"I'm also not sure you're pure of heart." Griffin smiled at me. When he wasn't ready to hump a hole through a wall, he was actually pretty cool.

"Hey!"

"You just made a joke about someone's religion."

"It wasn't a joke, I was generally curious if that aspect of their religion was accurate."

Griffin chose not to respond verbally. He gave me an admonishing look. I was only partly joking, but the other part of me was serious. I wondered what aspects of religion Christians had gotten right, what we had gotten wrong. I also wondered who was the closest of us all.

Twirling my blade over in my hands, I wondered if I could make it light up again. I stared at it, willing it to glow, willing it to do anything besides lie in my hands. I even searched for that voice, but it was silent. "Well, at this point, it's safe to say I'm pure of heart because there's no other option," I mumbled. It was kind of sad actually. I could've had cool powers, but instead, I was a good person.

He didn't agree with me. Instead, he said, "Dinner is ready."

I wanted to be a little offended. He didn't think I was a good person? Then I was a little worried. If a demon thought I was bad, then I must've been. "What did you make?" I jumped off the counter, laying my saber down. I gave it a second's look, but it did nothing but stay there.

"Spaghetti. It's the only thing I can cook."

I shrugged. "Food is food. As long as it tastes good." I grabbed the plate he handed me, offering up one last idea. "Could it have been a guardian angel maybe?" After all, whatever had happened had happened when Sebastian had gotten close to hurting me (as if he would). I knew it had to be some version of an angel because the hatred for Sebastian was almost overpowering my love for him. The only person that could want to take down a demon like that had to be an angel.

"Now there's an idea." He scooped some noodles onto my plate and his. "Let's change the subject: do you believe in soulmates, Athena ?"

I used a ladle to add spaghetti sauce to my noodles. "Your infatuation with my love life, or lack thereof, is seriously concerning me." I grabbed a fork and sat down at the table.

Griffin sat in front of me. "Answer the question."

Did I believe in soulmates? I wasn't sure. The idea that somebody out there was made for me was a cute idea. In theory, it sounded super romantic, but logically it didn't make sense. What were the chances of me finding them? If I did find them, how did I know? What if I didn't find them until I was thirteen years into my marriage with a guy I thought I loved and we had three kids? Did I hurt them for my happiness? Or did I suffer? "No. I don't think people have that 'perfect' someone. I think of it more as yin and yang—someone who balances us out." I took a bite of the spaghetti. It was delicious. "Do you?"

He shrugged, absently twirling noodles around his fork. "I would like to think there is a woman out there that wants me for more than my good looks and my ability to make her—"

"Griffin."

"—smile." He grinned at me. "I don't, however, believe in soulmates simply because I don't have a soul."

I didn't feel like pointing out that he couldn't not believe in something just because it didn't relate to him. It was like saying giraffes were a figment of someone's imagination just because you hadn't been to a zoo. "You guys don't have souls?"

"Probably not. There's no way to tell, and it's not like we'll go to Heaven." He chuckled. "Which isn't exactly a loss. I heard the food there wasn't seasoned anyway. I don't understand why you humans choose such a boring life to get there."

"I mean, it beats an eternity of fire and torture."

"I would risk it. It beats the hell out of following the rules just to listen to nonstop Christmas carols in my mansion."

Frowning, I put my fork down and stared at him. He was beating around the bush of some subject. "Why do you think they sing Christmas carols nonstop in Heaven?" I went through what little knowledge I had of most religions in my head, and none of them had anything to do with Christmas carols. I would get to the root of his problem later, but right now I was thoroughly confused about his idea of Heaven.

"Because Christmas carols are annoying, and do-gooders are annoying. It just seems like something they would do."

I decided not to entertain the rest of his conversation, instead opting to shovel more food into my mouth. I had some studying to do tonight, and I had to do some more reps on the punching bag, some running with complaints and push-ups. I was determined to be able to fight off a group of demons on my own. Or at least hold them off without fatal injuries.

Angel weapons. Neither option of being pure at heart or being an angel was sitting right with me. There was something else I was missing. Something I didn't know. Tomorrow I would do some research on angels. Demonology was a study, so angelology had to be, too. I would also place a call to my grandmother. She knew something I didn't. I would do it now, but I didn't have her number, and my parents were probably busy back home.

"I'm a do-gooder," I protested. "Am I annoying?"

"Immensely so. Except, instead of Christmas Caroler annoying, you're more like can't find the back of my earrings annoying."

"You don't even wear earrings."

He shrugged. "I recently stopped because I kept losing the backs of them during orgies." I knew he was telling the absolute truth because 1) why wouldn't he be, and 2) he didn't even crack a smile.

This was the life of a demon? Orgies and weapons and… what else did they do for fun? Sebastian liked video games and yelling at the tv during soccer season. He also liked jazz music and getting on my nerves. He demon hunted, but I was sure he was alone in that. "What do you for fun?"

He didn't even pause to think about it. "Everything I do is fun. I don't do anything that's not fun."

I gave him a look. "Absolutely nothing?" We all had to do something we didn't like at some point in our lives. Honestly, most of the things we had to do sucked—going to work, not being able to finish binge-watching your favorite show in one night without getting an adequate amount of sleep, missing a concert, paying bills. "Even this right here, babysitting me, is fun?"

Griffin nodded, twirling more spaghetti around his fork. "Yes. I meant it when I said you were interesting yesterday." He paused, chewing before his grin returned. "I also find you extremely attractive. If it wasn't for my brother—and your consent, of course—I would've definitely made my move."

I wanted no parts in flirtatious banter with Griffin because it just felt wrong (admittedly, I didn't want to ruin the small sliver of a chance I had with a Sebastian) and kind of dangerous. I could really see myself going from innocent flirting to butt naked, tied to a kitchen table with an apple in my mouth.

"I didn't think you respected your brother's wishes."

"Oh, I don't," he replied quickly, laying his fork onto his empty plate. "I do, however, know how important he is to you. Admittedly, I was going to just sneak around until I caught you alone and hope your self-preservation would convince you to meet up with me occasionally, sans Sloth. But I saw how you adored him, and I saw how much he meant to you, and I figured this was the correct way to do it. By being nice."

I smiled at him. "You sound disgusted."

"Trust me, I am." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. "Being nice isn't my thing."

"Really? I would've never guessed." Granted, Griffin had been nothing but nice to me, a little flirtatious, but he was sweet to me. Even earlier as he walked me from class, instead of being overbearing, he had asked me what kind of supervision I wanted. Since Hillary was skipping to go see a movie with Ricky, I opted to let Griffin walk with me. He had been quiet at first, then he had shown me some cool tricks with his powers. Then he read people's emotions, and we created stories about why they felt that way. "Is being greedy your thing?" I asked, putting the last bite of spaghetti into my mouth.

He grabbed my empty plate, putting it on top of his and placing it in the sink. "It depends. Sometimes I'm driven by a desire to be on top, to have more power. Mostly, though, I'm more concerned with having fun. The sin does not make the demon, but rather the demon the sin."

I pursed my lips. What was the point of modeling them after the seven sins if they weren't supposed to embody those sins? They could've easily been made evil with superpowers.

"The goal isn't for us to be the sin, but for us to encourage the sin," he continued. "We very well can't convince someone to commit a sin without reason, can we? Think of the most powerful people in the world and how they got there—lying, stealing, manipulating, killing for some. That was all my influence. I wrap my arm around their shoulder, smile, and direct them to some beautiful women or handsome men—then tell them how much more they could have. Now that, Athena, that feeling of making someone sin… that's way better than whatever I get from indulging myself in greed."

I could've sat here all night and talked to him, but the food had given me a case of the itis. I yawned, keeping everything he had told me stockpiled into neat little categories into my mind to add to my collection of information for later. Between the two of us and Sebastian, we could make some real headway before Mother tried her final move.

<i>Silly Athena, do you really think you could stop me?</i> Her voice from my dream was a chilly reminder of what we were up against—a crazy, telepathic, super-strong demon with an army of thousands of other demons at her disposal. I still believed it, though, believed we could stop her.

We had to. There was no other option.

"Want some help with the dishes?" I stood up, looking at everything he had to do. I had a lot to do myself, but, first, I would take a nap. I would skip the workout tonight in favor of a long, hot shower (those always helped me think) and a long nap.

Griffin waved me off. "I'm fine. I need to take care of something anyway."

On impulse, I walked over and hugged him. "I know you're here because you think I can rebuild the world, but thanks for being here anyway and keeping me safe and answering my questions," I told him, giving him a squeeze.

He had one arm around me awkwardly, and the other patted me on the shoulder. I had the feeling he wasn't used to platonic hugs. "Eh, if Mother rules the world, I won't have anybody to coerce into doing bad things for power and selfish desires."

I gave him a knowing grin. "Admit it, you like us humans."

He stopped the awkward pat and rolled his eyes. "You are an interesting group of people. Annoying. Persistent. Selfless...touch-y." Gently, he pushed me away from him, looking at me as if I was a bug that had splattered against his windshield.

I giggled. "'Night, see ya in the morning." I headed upstairs where my shower awaited me, and I heard Griffin start on the dishes. He hummed something under his breath.

It wasn't the same quiet and comfortable energy Sebastian usually brought into the house. It was a little bit more electric. Wilder. Sebastian's energy tucked me in and turned the lights off, made sure I was snug before I closed my eyes. Griffin's energy pulled the blankets back and turned on the music, brought in a disco ball, and told me to forget about my plans for tomorrow.

Both feelings were nice.

There was something gravely wrong. A feeling like dread settled over me seconds before the door to my dorm room opened.

This morning, Griffin drove me to school, stopping in a parking lot. At first, I thought he'd get out with me, but then he leaned over, face dangerously close to the apex between my thighs, and laughed. <i>Athena, I would take you on a date first,</i> he teased, and then I saw a flash silver and felt the press of metal against my pants. <i>Keep this close by</i>. He reached behind him and handed me my saber. <i>Keep this even closer</i>.

Then he had leaned forward, staring straight ahead with a sour look on his face. I have to take care of some business. <i>I'll pick you up around eight tonight. Go to class, go to your dorm, and don't trust anybody, not even friends. Be safe because Sebastian can kill me.</i> With that, he had given me a two-finger salute and unlocked the door, an obvious sign for me to go.

It was a welcome relief to be alone, to not be watched or babysat, and to just be alone with my thoughts and no silent—or talkative—figure lurking around me.

I was half-asleep in my dorm room when I heard the door click. My eyes widened, and I shot up, knowing something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

The door pushed open, though, and it was nobody but Hillary, looking fresh-aced and bushy-eyed. Her blonde hair was a little windblown, and her eyes were bright, but when she saw me, she smiled. "Athena!" she chirped, closing the door behind her and locking it.

I smiled, relief coursing through me. "Hillary, you're back early!" I greeted, sitting up. My blankets dropped to my waist, and I saw the edge of the knife peeking out. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice if I didn't bring attention to it. It was buried in a chemistry book. "How was the trip? Where are your bags?"

"I was able to get an earlier flight," she explained, coming closer to me. "My trip was nice; it's hot in New Orleans, which was cool because I was able to wear shorts instead of being bundled up. My bags are with Ricky."

"I've missed you. We need to catch up!" I hadn't been alone with her for more than a few minutes at a time thanks to Sebastian always being there. "I want to hear all about New Orleans."

She bobbed her head, kicking her shoes off and jumping on my bed. "And I've missed you. So, tell me, where's Griffin? No Sebastian to play bodyguard today?"

Griffin?

The cement ball got a little bit bigger. This had to be one of those shape-shifter demons. Griffin had just gotten to town the day she left. There was no way Hillary knew him. How could I be sure, though, before I slit her throat? I racked my brain trying to remember.

"Nope," I answered, still smiling at her. "Griffin is doing God knows what, and Sebastian is ignoring me while on vacation in Europe." I rolled my eyes as if I would if it was truly Hillary sitting there.

"Europe?" She chuckled, looking incredulous. "Sebastian isn't in Europe—he's in the Underworld. Didn't he tell you?"

I wanted to say Hillary knew nothing about that, but she was a psychic. Then again, she told me she didn't pry into Sebastian's life unless it had something to do with me. Even so, she wouldn't have told me any differently if I hadn't known Sebastian was in the Underworld—she valued his privacy,

"Of course not," I said quietly. Sebastian was in the Underworld? True relief went through me—he wasn't in danger or ignoring my texts, he just didn't have service. "He told me he was in Europe following a lead." While this demon was here, I might as well milk it for information.

Why had he lied to me, though?

"More like he's amassing an army to defend you against Mother," it replied, waving Hillary's hand in a dismissive motion. "Pointless, though, if he leaves you alone for anybody to attack." Its smile got a little more sinister.

I shrugged. "Griffin is around."

It looked around the room. "Griffin is having sex and doing drugs. As usual." She sounded disgusted, which wasn't Hillary-like at all. She would've been amused, even curious.

The answer came to me, the one I had been searching for. Shape-shifting demons only knew basic information and recent memories of the person they were.

Sighing, I placed my hand over the knife before asking, "Hillary, what movie always makes me cry?" She was the only person who knew that, who had seen me cry at that movie.

The demon's smile stiffened. "Gee, I've messed this up, haven't I?" it asked, looking at me sadly. This was a dangerous position to fight in. I had no leverage, no anything. "You're aware you can't leave this room alive, aren't you?"

I nodded. "How will you do it?" My heart took off in my chest. I had one more trick up my sleeve.

It stood, stretching.

"Quickly. The human's form I take is affectionate of you, and fortunately for you, it affects me as well." It gave me a small smile. "I have to spill your blood, so I'll slice your neck with my claws."

Before I could question it, I saw long nails extract from Hillary's fingers, her pale skin ripping back to expose scaly red skin underneath. I wrapped my fingers around the blade of the knife and threw it, just like Griffin had taught me. It hit the demon square in the shoulder, pushing it back a foot or two.

Pausing, the demon pulled the knife out, a snarl crossing its face as Hillary's face peeled back. The knife scattered across the room. "You've messed up, bitch," it snarled, taking a furious step closer to me.

I scooted back, knowing I had one chance. I placed my left hand against my bed, reaching for the saber. If I swung too early, I died. Too late, I died.

The demon lunged forward. Hand right above the onyx stone, I lifted it.

Time seemed to slow down. I saw the claws coming at my face. I saw my blade moving way too slowly for me. The claws got dangerously close to my face. I moved back as much as possible, my spine cracking against the bed frame. The blade made contact with its neck. The claws lowered. Gold eyes widened in surprise. The blade came out on the other side, black goo spurting out and onto my blankets, my book, my face. I grimaced as the demon collapsed onto the bed.

Time snapped back, and I heard the doorknob turn.

This time, I jumped off my bed, saber in hand. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

Hillary came in a backpack over her shoulder. "Ev—Athena ?" She kept coming toward me, concern in her eyes. "Oh my God, are you—"

Without thinking, I placed the saber at her neck. "What move makes me cry?"

Blue eyes wide, she kept her hands at her side. "My Girl, even before you start watching. As soon as you see Thomas J. appear on the screen you tear up." She dropped her backpack, stepping away from the saber. I lowered it. "Where is Griffin at?"

Ah, so she did know about Griffin. "I can explain," I started.

"Don't bother," she replied, grabbing her backpack and putting it up on her bed and rifling through it for something. "I tried to get back here as soon as I saw, but I've been running around New Orleans looking for this book for Aunt Tabby, so forgive me for not checking in on you. I was sitting still when Griffin told me to check on your future, and there it was—this stupid demon dressed like me coming in here to kill you."

I brought the saber up. Great. The demon had found a way to access her memories, too. Although, this was a very Hillary-like conversation, the fast-paced monologue. "Hillary," I stated calmly.

She paused her searching, then looked at me. "The thing is, Aunt Tabby is dead now, bless her soul and may she rest in peace with Elvis Presley and Prince, but not at the same time because I'm sure they didn't like each other. So, the book is yours, and you're its rightful owner anyway."

"Hillary."

"Found it!" She lifted a thin, dark green book out of her backpack, which looked extremely old and dated. She turned to me, eyeing the saber. "It's really me this time, but we have to go. There are 13 demons on the way up here now—seven on the stairs, six on the elevator.

"There are two possible outcomes to this: you defeat Mother, or you don't. I've seen every possible way to get to each outcome, and there are a thousand ways to not defeat her," she explained, arms crossed. "There is, however, one way to defeat her, and I have no idea how to get there. But it starts with you not dying. So let's go."

Thirteen demons? I couldn't take them. I also didn't know if I could trust her. How did I know she wasn't another demon? That Mother hadn't infiltrated her subconscious for answers like she had done mine?

"Freshman year you got stung by a jellyfish on your nipple when we went skinny-dipping. You wouldn't let me pee on you to stop the pain."

Yep, that was Hillary.

I grinned and lowered the blade. "Okay, it is you."

She brushed past me. I had killed a demon. I had its blood on me. Hillary had a dark green book in her hand that was almost like the Sins' journals except older.

Hillary unlocked the window and pushed it open. "The only way out is down," she told me.

We were on the fifth floor. "I'm afraid of heights."

"You're also afraid to die. C'mon, we have about twenty seconds now."

I could hear a ringing in my ear. I felt a little light-headed. "We're gonna die."

She rolled her eyes. "If I thought you were gonna die by jumping, I would've let the demons take you. You'll survive."

I glanced out the window. I didn't have a choice. Everything in me was screaming at me to run. I walked, saw our ugly view of the dumpster and the back of an abandoned building. Standing below me was Griffin and some other girl in a tight red dress and heels. "How do you know?" I demanded, even though I knew.

She looped her arm through mine, and we both got up on the windowsill. "Jeez, I thought Clare was the one getting her memory erased, not you," she murmured, just as the door knob jiggled. It was locked, which brought us an extra three seconds. She tightened her grip on me and grinned.

Then we jumped.