Chapter 6

The journey to my room wasn't as eventful as I hoped it to be. Make no mistake. Hayden was kind and spoke the entire time, pointing at doors and telling what was behind them, classrooms and toilets and et cetera.

Hayden was more than charming, but once we stood outside my door and he was politely telling me goodbye, I was too nervous.

He patiently waited, silent, as if expecting me to thank him for showing me to my room, and I kind of ended up slamming my door into his face.

Fuck me. Asking Hayden out isn't a possibility now!

I flop down onto my new bed in defeat, arms, and legs akimbo.

"I'm such an idiot!"

My grandmother has already summoned my stuff into my new room. I don't look to check if she forgot something. I'm too caught in self-pity.

The mirror is shining next to my hand, and I lift myself to stare at Lucy. He appears to be sitting in a chair and dangling grapes into his waiting mouth—it seems there are different rooms in his pocket dimension.

'Are you seriously crying over a guy that you just met?'

I pout at him. "I'm not crying."

'Good, because I didn't see many tears when your grandmother erased your father's memories. So I would be disappointed if you cried over this Gayden person.'

"Hayden." I correct him and sigh loudly, letting some of the hurt leave my system. "And I was crying... I just..." I bite my lower lip with the devastating certainty that I'm at the brink of tears again. "I don't want to talk about it. Bringing my father up hurts."

Lucy is momentarily silent. I look down to find him observing me with thoughtful eyes. It still freaks me out that he looks like a child—he doesn't act like one.

Suddenly, his lips quirk up into a smile. 'Bottling up your emotions isn't healthy either; if you want to cry, cry. I won't tell anyone.'

I giggle despite the agony slicing through me like razor blades. Lucy is cunning. "Buttering up to me already?"

Lucy smiles briefly and then shakes his head. His eyes are oddly gentle. 'You don't have to believe me, but I cared about your mother, and she loved you, so like or not, but you're stuck with me. I care about you too.'

Laughter erupts from my throat. "You're right; I don't believe you."

I've never heard of demons caring about other people—they are selfish creatures.

Lucy doesn't disappear from the mirror despite my harsh words. 'The generations before your mother didn't treat me nicely, including your grandmother—she constantly threatened to drop my mirror. She would get angry if I didn't fetch her information about the people she met and stuff, but your mother was different. I considered her to be my friend.'

I wrinkle my nose. "Wow, you are manipulative. I almost believe your sob story."

Lucy laughs; it's an entertained sound. 'What's stopping you?'

I shrug one shoulder, confused about the soft expression on the demon's face. I didn't think demons could appear so human. "Well, you're a demon, so there is that, end of the story."

'I'm a demon, not the devil,' Lucy snorts, offended that I'm not buying his bullshit. If I'm not mistaken, he seems hurt. 'Well, since you don't believe me, I will return to eating these grapes. Goodnight, Raven.'

The thought of Lucy's face disappearing gives birth to panic. I don't trust the demon, but the idea of being alone at a time right now frightens me. I'm afraid silence will make me think of my father and bring back those tears to the surface.

"Wait!" I'm hyperventilating and staring down at the mirror; Lucy looks surprised. His eyes flicker to mine, and I lick my lips. "Can you stay for a while longer?"

Lucy arches his eyebrows; it looks comical to have a kid look so wise and questioning. 'You were rude two seconds ago, and now you want me to stick around?'

"I know how dumb it sounds." I slump my shoulders in defeat. To think that I'm opening up to a demon, of all people. I'm a poor judge of character and have trusted many shady people in my lifetime, but this takes the price. "I'm just scared to be lonely..."

Lucy's demeanor softens, and for being a demon, his face turns gentle. 'Can I tell you the reason I made my appearance earlier without you firing rude comments?'

I giggle because I feel guilty. "Sure."

A brief smile touches Lucy's lips. 'I want to know what truly happened to your mother. I'm not sure, but I suspect your grandmother knows more about her death than I do.'

I take a deep breath. "Before I ask what makes you think my grandmother is hiding something, I want to know why you care so much about my mother."

Lucy seems to hesitate but eventually speaks. 'Your mother always talked to me before she went to bed. She was always kind and funny, laughed at my jokes, and life quickly got lonely without her.'

I gasp. "You loved my mother." A crease forms between my eyebrows as soon as I've spoken. "But wait, isn't that impossible? I thought demons couldn't feel anything."

Lucy grimaces. 'I was a human once. I can feel many emotions, but not romantic love. I wasn't in love with your mother. Of course, I loved her, but we were only friends, best friends.'

"Okay..." I silently ponder on his words a bit, not sure if I believe him. He seems sincere, but you never know. "And now tell me why you think my grandmother is hiding something."

Lucy's face seems to turn darker. 'Because your mother didn't die in the human world—she died here, on the school grounds. I wasn't with her, but I saw your grandmother opening the portal to take her to this world. They were talking in upset voices before she disappeared.'

My heart constricts. "But why would my grandmother lie about her death? And I saw a body; there was a funeral goddamn it!"

Lucy shrugs. 'She would lie to protect you from the truth. And was there a funeral? Your grandmother is stronger than you think, especially skilled with hallucinations.'

A gasp gets stuck inside my throat. "Wait. Hold on. What are you saying?"

I stare at the demon. And even if Lucy hasn't spoken, I think I know what he is about to say already. It's something I've always suspected but never dared to investigate.

Lucy stares me dead in the eye, and his face is fully severe. 'I'm saying that I don't remember there ever being a funeral.'