Page 74 of When I Accidentally Summoned a Demon

I look back at the porch. Vesper is still dancing with Bethie, laughing, their faces bright. Manny flaps his wings with mock chicken motions. They are safe. They have no awareness of the shadow across the pavement thirty yards away.

Deep in my chest, a profound clarity settles.

Fear does not motivate me as I take my first step toward the street. I have feared Lucifer for centuries, but tonight, the fear is gone, burned away by something far larger and infinitely more powerful.

It is not protectiveness. It is purpose. I see Vesper laughing beneath porch lights. I see Bethie growing untouched by the darkness that shaped me. I see years I will never live and joys I will never know. And yet…

If my life began in darkness but ends preserving your light, my Evening Star, then I was never born in vain.

Vesper is strong. She has survived worse trials, and she will survive my absence. Her heart will mend. I must believe this. I must believe the warmth we built in that small house will be enough to keep the cold at bay when I am gone.

But I will carry her with me.

I memorize them in a moment. I record the exact curve of Vesper’s smile, the sound of Bethie’s laughter, the bright, ridiculous blue of that tiger onesie. Even when I am gone from this world, when I am nothing more than demonic ash in the deepest trench of the Pit, some trace of me will linger.

It will be there in the sudden blush of her cheeks when she remembers the crypt. It will be there in the shimmer of her tears, in the phantom sensation of her hand folding into mine, in the way Bethie will look at the space on the couch where we read about green trucks and trains. And the memory of her saying, “Da Da.”

I know unequivocally that I have a heart.

I know it because it is not merely breaking; it is shattering into ten thousand jagged, brilliant pieces. And as I step off the curb, leaving the safety of the sidewalk behind, I do not try to hold those pieces together.

I send them all to her. Every single one.

I take out the stones and sage, let them tumble to the ground, then remove the hat and set it face up beside the charms. She will see. She will know.

So I walk toward the blackest light I have ever known, knowing my Evening Star will burn long after the darkness has swallowed me whole.

25

Vesper

We come back down the driveway under the streetlights, Bethie tugging on my arm, ready to charge to the next house. And then, I see it—scattered on the damp asphalt.

A handful of tumbled tiger’s eye crystals. The tightly bound sage bundle I’d shoved into his pockets before we left. And right in the center of the driveway, sitting all alone, is his Jinu hat.

I stop. My breath hitches, a sudden, cold panic seizing my lungs before I can even process. I go down on one knee, my oversized blue tiger onesie rustling in the dry leaves, and pick up the wide-brimmed black hat.

A small, neatly folded piece of paper is tucked inside the inner band.

My fingers shake as I unfold it. His handwriting is elegant and steady.

“Do not mourn me, my Evening Star. Five months with you gave me a richer life than seventeen centuries ever did. You made me something I had never dared to become. You made me yours. You made me family. And if I have a soul, surely, it must belong to you and no other. If this is where my story ends, then know this—I leave full. You and Bethie have all my love, my Ves.”

A hot, excruciating pain blooms in the center of my chest, so sharp, it feels like a physical blow. But beneath that agony, threading through the raw ache of our bond, I can still feel him. He is alive. I’ve never felt this emotion from him. His soul is so quiet. He isn’t afraid. No, he has wrapped himself in grief, layered with pure sacrifice, genuinely believing he has found his final purpose by saving us.

That damn demon. My throat closes up. My lungs compress.

“Vesper?” Manny asks, stepping up behind me, his magpie wings rustling with concern as he looks at the scattered crystals. “Where’s the big guy? Did he run back to the house to check the grout again?”

I stand up. I wipe a single hot, angry tear from my cheek and turn around, holding the letter tight in my fist. I can’t fall apart. Not when he needs me more than ever. I snatch Bethie into my arms, kiss her cheek, then hand her sequined form to Manny.

“Go on without me,” I say, my voice filled with a low, lethal energy. “I’ll catch up soon. I have to find Vale.”

Manny blinks, taking Bethie, his expression going from confused to deeply worried. “Is he in trouble?”

I nod through a fresh wave of tears, less like sorrow and more like liquid fire. “Yeah. But I’m going to be bigger trouble.”

Manny looks at the hat, then at my face, and he puffs out his feathered chest. “That’s my girl. Go slay, Queen!”