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My mother had never been much for advice or indeed parenting. The unplanned child of an illicit love affair had certainly thrown a wrench in her plans, most of which involved charming the well to do into her bed and herself into their wills. I'd spent much of my youth in the care of nannies or boarding school. Unless, of course, her latest paramour, most of which I regarded as fools unworthy even of pity, fancied themselves the family type. In that case I was brought home to play the role of the loving daughter aching for a step-father or step-mother to fill the void.
Needless to say, we were never close. More strangers or roommates than mother and daughter. It made those rare moments of parenting potent. Not even in my worst teenage apathy could I ignore the times she felt the need to acknowledge the role genetics had assigned to her. Largely when it was mutually beneficial, I had always been as good as getting myself out of trouble as I was into it. But every now and then, she saw fit to take notice when she could do something that would benefit solely me and I suspect that was the closest either of us ever came to loving each other.
When I was 12 and in the throes of my first real crush and despondent she'd never know I existed, I had become what she would call foolish. Besotted and idealistic, old enough to know better but too young to resist the impulse, I had asked my mother as I watch her prepare for a night out if she had ever been in love. Had love my father or any of her other suitors.
I knew I had done something wrong when she calmly set down her blush and turned to stare at me fully. The last time she had looked at me like that, I had been five and asked if Richard had really had a heart attack. I had swore I would never ask something so stupid again but clearly I hadn't learned.
“There are two rules you should live your life by.” My mother said, her tone making me sit up straight and pay attention. “First of all, before all else, you are never to fall in love. It is nothing but a weakness, offering yourself up as prey instead of preying.”
I nodded quickly, burning the lesson into my mind the same way I had when she'd spoke of the freedom to love regardless of gender or the autonomy of my body. “And the second?”
“Never summon a demon. Do not even think of them in practice. Don't dare believe yourself capable of outsmarting them.” She said. “Those are the rules by which I live and you would do well to do the same. Anything else would be your ruin.”
A chill went down my spine at my mother's tone. I knew all she had done. Had even been an accomplice in some acts and a witness to others. For even my mother, who seemed to lack fear of any mortal, to fear a demon drove the message home soundly. I felt a surge of guilt at hearing my school mates whispers of such things and feeling the beginnings of curiousity and temptation. They had made it sound so harmless, even claimed to have come away unscathed or better off from it. I suddenly wondered if they weren't the sort of tall tales the older boys told of the girls they'd dated or perhaps even lures to draw in others as payment for their debts. It was lucky, perhaps, that I'd had to turn down Gwen to attend a charity game with my mother and future step father instead of joining her friends to pore over a secondhand old tome.
“Promise me.” My mother demanded and I could do nothing but offer my most solemn vow.
A pity then, I had been raised to believe vows were meant nothing unless written in blood. Twice over that having raised myself for much of my life, I'd often had to learn things the hard way.
But as I found myself kneeling in the circle, waiting even if I knew it might be in vain, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. I had lasted longer than many of those within my innermost social circle would have thought I might, if they'd known of my vow. They likely might have guessed I would not make it to my majority but here I was closer to thirty than not and only having just succumb to to my curiousity. I had tried to keep the rule, just bearing witness to a deal instead of making one myself. But I should have known, should have headed the wisdom of my elders, that even that act was too great a risk.
The way She had stared as the deal was made should have been a warning sign. Another when a touch in a bar and whispered invitation came freely, a night promised with no strings. The irony I had become tangled in the sort of web I helped weave was not lost on me. But arrogance and pride had always been my Sins and I believed I could keep myself untouched by Her aura.
The shivers that went down my spine with each click of heels behind my only drove home how wrong I was. I was too elated I would not be kept waiting hopelessly as She had made me do before. Too eager to feel Her mark around my neck burning when I should be be filled with dread.
“Good girl.” The shudder that went through me was impossible to miss and I knew without looking the victorious smirk that would be tugging at Her lips. The gentle fingers carding through my hair were a lie, I knew, but I was helpless to do anything but trust them. Even expecting it, I still gasped as Her grip turned harsh and hot and my head was forced back to make eye contact. Many said the black eyes of a demon were expressionless but I suspected they weren't really looking. The promise of suffering was all too clear in Hers.
“Shall we begin?” She asked. I lowered my eyes, knowing the only acceptable answer was to silently offer myself up to be used at Her pleasure.
The pain seemed endless. I doubted there was a part of me She had not caused some sort of misery. Yet still I was about to come out of my skin if She dared stop. As happened too often, I found myself stripped of my Sins. My arrogance, pride, and impatience gone in the face of Her power. I was content to howl like a mad woman, to buck at my restraints until they dug in, to plead in the names of all powers above and below if She would grant me a single grace.
I had never felt any power, any force, like that which moved through my once She finally did. For moments that seemed impossibly long but faded too quickly, that grace was all I knew. All that mattered. I could do nothing but sob in relief as I let it overwhelm me.
I knew I should be more concerned with the time loss. My mother had kept track of every moment. Not only where she was and what she was doing but where she could be and where she should be. I was just grateful to awaken to Her tenderness. A gentleness now to Her and Her care that belied the cruelty She had put me through just moments ago. If anyone were to see us they would think us lovers, in some sort of honeymoon glow. I wasn't sure if there was truth to that. If there was, I was certain it was one sided.
But I was also certain it didn't matter. The truth, I knew, was subjective and my truth had become Her. I would gladly offer myself up for any torment, abase myself and please without a modicum of shame for her grace, and go through it all a thousand times over without relief for Her pleasure and pride and the promise of Her tenderness afterwards. For the first time I felt sympathy for my mother's courters as I found myself tangled in a web of her making. I was not any more reluctant to offer myself up for her consumption if it meant a moment of her time.
No, I had not broken just one of my mother's rules. I did not even break them both individually. No, I had broken them both together and truly overachieved by breaking the unspoken but obvious third rule: I, in all my foolishness, had fallen in love with a demon. I knew with certainty it might well be my ruin, but as I laid in Her arms, I knew it would be a glorious fall.