I held a sigh in and sank into the ugliest chair in the house, a relic of one of my stepmother Kate’s endless redecorating sprees. It clashed in a way rarely seen since the 70’s, it had unidentifiable stains, and it smelled kind of like hell’s vanilla, but it was comfortable and right then I needed comfort more than good taste.

Mom, still clutching the cola like it was a life preserver, smiled nervously at me and opened her mouth. I held up my hand. “Hold on just a minute.”

With a faint stammer to her voice she said, “I suppose you’ll want to hear first where I’ve been the last twenty years…”

I took my shoes off and tossed them at the front door. “Actually, I just wanted to do that.”

She began again, and this time I listened, rubbing my sore feet on my ugly carpet.

“Petra, I’ve been watching you for a few years now, and I think it’s time to tell you. You’re not human- not fully, anyway. I’m a demon.”

I chewed on my lip. “I figured, but funny, that’s what Kate said about you.”