Esmeray thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I can’t do shit for him in hell, but maybe they’ll let him cook sometime?”
We both stared at the last sparkling remains of the poltergeist. Esmeray spoke a few moments later. “Want me to dig up the recipe book?”
“I got it.” I strode over and drew a sigil in the dirt to search and lift metal from within, and the box rose to the surface with a clank. “Now let’s get somewhere I can link my portals to and get our belongings. We only have a few hours before space lines up and we lose everything inside.”
“You put my books in your office, didn’t you?” Esmeray asked as he groaned.
“I finished the expansion charms this morning after you left… Technically my office and our closets survived.” I scratched the back of my head and huffed a laugh.
“You lost the shop…” Esmeray knelt down and sifted his fingers through broken glass, what had once been an apothecary jar.
“All the more imperative I get that job.” I leaned against him and sighed. “Let’s get back to your father’s estate and plan ahead.”
Esmeray nodded. “Go ahead. And if we take Calamisis’s estate, be prepared to have to deal with Father coming to visit every day.”
“So, no walking about in the nude?” I raised a brow, and Esmeray mirrored my expression.
“Actually, that may lessen his frequent visits…” Esmeray gave my groin a quick glance. “Or increase them. My father is a cad.”
“Demon.” One of the officers nearby grunted, having been close to our personal conversation.
We both glanced over at the officer, who glanced about nervously before pointing toward the charred remains of our would-be assassin. “Look at that! A body. Excuse me.”
We both eyed him as he left, and we strode away with an ever-lengthening list of things to do.
“I’m hungry.” Esmeray sighed in dismay.
“Italian?” I offered. It was what I had most nights. Whatwehad.
The silence stretched on, and Esmeray leaned his head into my side. “I think I’m feeling tacos.”
“Tacos it is.”
Chapter Fourteen
Esmeray
With the help of a few of the household staff, we were able to set up in my old bedroom, open portals to the extended closets that still existed, somehow, in ether space, and retrieve a lifetime of thalmaturgy and magical information. All while Gre made notes of the things we’d need—mostly toiletries. All the while, he lamented not protecting the bathroom.
“We can buy new toiletries.” I flopped onto my bed as he moved with the others.
“Yeah, but my towels had theperfectamount of wear to them.” His pitiable look amused me, if I was honest. And being back home had a certain comfort to it, despite wanting to not live with my father—I’d admit I’d have more saved up if I didn’t insist on moving out. But, I needed to prove so many things to myself, the least of which was that I was as capable as my coworkers who didn’t get a single handout. Most of them had started with nothing, and I wanted to prove I could do the same.
“I’m sure we will wear out towels in time to your satisfaction.” I supervised as my books came out of a portal one by one in the middle of my room. Gre moved through the doors with ease and willingness while the help nervously moved from one side to the next, fearful of the portal closing. Gre said time was limited, and they’d flinched every time they stepped in, since.
And of course, nobody allowed me to lift a thing, only supervise where boxes were put. Despite this, I had vastly underestimated the amount of belongings we’d kept in expanded spaces. I should have felt a modicum of shame, but I didn’t. I still had my books, after all.
For a demon, our grimoires and accumulated thaumaturgic knowledge were indispensable. In years, I could do what took decades and centuries for most to accumulate, and I wouldnotstart from the bottom ranks of hell like my peers.
“You have a copy of a fallen seraphim’s account of transition?” Gre strode out of the space with a leather-bound tome in his hands. I really hoped it wasn’t human leather, but hell was hell, after all. “Apologies for snooping.”
“Books are books. Even my own grimoire. Read them.” I strode across the room to flop onto my bed, watching everyone carry things out.
Gre sifted through the books and handed over a bound copy—a newer book, closer to my twenty-seven years of age. My omega father had started it for me soon after he knew he was pregnant. As I should have started one for our child to come. For certain, they’d have magic, but it was not up to us the magic they received, demonic or deic, of the gods and mankind.
“I wouldn’t dare do so without your express permission.” Gre handed the tome to me and I took it with a sigh of relief. I traced fingers over the cover, treasuring agricultural leather rather than the potential leather of something intelligent or with a soul. Probably pig. The grain was very large.
As I leafed through the pages, I stared upon the discoveries of my own I’d made. Spells I’d seen in no other grimoires were made by combining spells from others. I could curl my hair with a twist of heat drawn from hell itself, boil water from a drop of fire from the sun.
