Erika led him back to the car. “Do you know where you want to eat?”

  “There’s this great restaurant in Joliet called Texas Roadhouse. I’ll give you directions.” Lawrence sat up front this time. He held out his hand. She took it. (Nelly’s in Wilmington. Don’t use the GPS. Turn off your phone if you have one. This is the route you take.)

  “What happened to sitting in the safest place?” Erika turned off her phone. She glanced at him. “Lawrence?”

  He said nothing. He leaned against the window. Erika studied his expression in the glass’s reflection. The lights were on. Nobody was home.

  She followed his instructions. They drove to the restaurant in silence. She parked. They got out of the car. Erika waited for him before she climbed the steps. She pulled him into a hug. She tousled his hair. She towed him to the door. It was dark inside.

  “They’re closed.”

  “They moved.” Lawrence tried to walk to the other end of the porch. Erika wouldn’t let go of him. “They decided to consolidate with the bar. They’re in here.”

  He pulled the door open. He stepped aside so Erika could enter, but she reached over him to grab the door. She ushered him through. They went through the second door the same way. Inside, Lawrence walked past the bar. All the heads turned to face them as he led Erika to the rear of the restaurant. He picked up a menu.

  “Do you know what you want?” Erika said. She peered over his shoulder at the laminated sheet.

  “Yup-puh.” He put the menu back.

  “Hi hon,” said the lady behind the counter. “What can I get you today?”

  “A classic cheeseburger with everything on it, fries, and a chocolate milkshake.” Lawrence fixed a polite smile. “Ma’am.”

  “And for you, miss?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” Erika paid with plastic. She consulted a little notepad during the process. It had instructions for how to pay using human currency.

  “It’ll be right out.” The woman handed Lawrence an RFID tag. Lawrence took his milkshake with a polite thank-you. He led Erika to one of the rooms far from the bar. It was quiet in here. The gambling room was next door. Its oppressive emptiness provided a noise barrier from the bar. He picked a booth by the wall. While they waited, Erika watched TV.

  “Do you understand sports?” she said.

  Lawrence lifted his head. It was football game. Bears versus Packers. Or, Chicago versus Green Bay, as the football people said.

  “Nope.” He went back to his game. The RFID tag vibrated. Lawrence collected his food and turned in the tag. Erika still watched the game, fascinated. One of the players fumbled the ball. Half the bar patrons jumped out of their seats screaming.

  “FUMBLE.”

  “Lucy’s Throne,” Erika murmured.

  “Erika?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What d’you want?” Lawrence looked at her. Something in his tone made her think. She didn’t answer for a long minute.

  “How much do you know?” she said. She broke from watching the game to study him.

  Lawrence shrugged.

  “I wah ta gt joeb ee t-ah-ay,” he said around a mouthful of food. She glared. He swallowed. “Sorry. I was supposed to get Job B today. The Cannibal Job.”

  Erika blinked twice. She tensed. She said nothing for a long moment. She took a slow breath before answering.

  “What makes you think so?”

  “It looked like beef, but it tasted like chicken,” Lawrence said. “Not many things do. I know she runs a cannibal cult called Delightful Choir. She’s a jorogumo. She eats men, but not women. She’s wanted me to be her adopted son so she can get the Demon Lord Job. She needs a ‘family’ to fulfill the requirements.” He paused.

  “If I was human or part-human, I’d have gotten Cannibal. Allie is a half-human, one-quarter Angel, one-quarter demon. She’s a Hellion. She’d have gotten Cannibal. Since I didn’t, I’m not human. The Program knows the answer to my equation. It’s possible it knows the coefficients, and it doesn’t know the variables. Thus, the conundrum.”

  He sipped his milkshake. He held up three fingers. “I have three Conditions. A No Affinity Curse, a Peter Pan Curse, and Broken Psyche. ‘Your experiences in Maelstrom have left you traumatized. You experience nightmares and sometimes flashbacks. It’s in red text, like blood.” He grew quiet. “Sometimes I wake up screaming.”

  Erika put her hand on his. Lawrence hunched his shoulders. He sniffed.

  “It’s okay if you don’t have an arcane affinity,” Erika told him gently. “There are better paths to power. The issue is you’re not growing.”

  “Why does she care?” Lawrence scrubbed his face. “Why would a spirit world spider-lady want to—to…. I can’t be so pretty.”

  Erika had a Skill allowing her to see his Status. His Face stat was 750. He had the associated Legendary Perk. ‘Face’ wasn’t ‘charisma,’ it was general attractiveness. His FCE stat was so high, the program said he was one of the most beautiful boys alive. Josephine saw a prize to be claimed.

  Erika had a similar opinion, but being a possessor came with some non-Program benefits. She had better people skills. She knew people. She could cold read almost anyone’s character. After possessing him, she knew Lawrence was a sweet, lonely, loyal boy. If she gained his affection, he would obey her better than any amount of slave training. If she betrayed him, she’d be dead to him.

  “She’s creepy,” Erika said. “She’s a madwoman. She doesn’t care about you. She sees a prize to claim.”

  “What about you?” Lawrence cleared his throat. He raised his big, innocent blue eyes to hers. He turned his Legendary intellect in her direction.

  Erika knew this was a crucial moment. Lawrence’s Knowledge stat was 1000. He could deduce anything from a scrap of information. Her one defense was his lack of expertise reading faces. Erika kept her expression schooled.

  “I agreed to a 1000-strength Contract with her to get you out of a bind with your House. We never Contracted,” he said. “You don’t work for her anymore, which means you’re in the mortal world on your own dime. It isn’t easy for a corrupt demon to get here, which means you’re wealthy enough to pay a Faustian, or cunning enough to do it yourself, or you found a portal.

  “Food is still an issue; you eat soul units not people food. You can’t torture any souls up here. They leave right after they die. You must carry your supply with you, and you still need a way to get back before you run out.

  “You’ve been nice to me, and I appreciate it. I like you a lot. What I don’t get is why a soul-devouring demon is hanging out with me instead of sneaking into Fort Knox or the CIA. You’re a geist. Your superpower is possession. You could be making bookoo bucks, but you’re here. Which means somehow I’m more valuable than state secrets.”

  He looked at the table. He took another bite.

  “Yes, I am a geist. Possession is my basic Skill.” She considered what to say. “Demons get two Jobs. Their Species, and an Other Job. Mine is Scribe. I am high level.”

  “Cool.” Lawrence waited. He noted she didn’t say what he had right or not.

  “I can see your Status,” she said. She looked away from him. She became interested in the view outside the windows. “Not everyone is able to view everything on their Status. Most people have Hidden Stats.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when you put your shoes on, you’re protecting your feet. Your Armor stat rises. When you take your shoes off, your Armor stat lowers. Because it fluctuates, Armor is a Hidden Stat. Most humans don’t have a PSI stat. They don’t need to know some stats exist.”

  “But some aliens are powerful psions,” Lawrence guessed.

  “Aliens,” Erika nodded. She lowered her voice. “And some abominations. You have four PSI points. I need to test you, but I’m certain you can take the Psion Job. Maybe Seer.”

  “I’m a Psychic?” Lawrence processed this. He started to smile. “I didn’t know Psions were a thing. Cool. Wait till I tell Allie.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone anything. Psions are associated with some unpleasant things. If people find out you are one, well, it’ll be bad.”

  “How bad?” Lawrence finished his burger. He started chowing down his fries.

  “Death.” She gave him a level look.

  He stopped chewing.

  “I can see your heritage jobs,” she said. She looked away again. “I know which ones you’re supposed to get. So does Lady Zhang.”

  “Cambion?” Lawrence guessed. “Nephilim?”

  “Not Nephilim,” she said. She looked him in the eye for a long, uncomfortable moment. “I am sorry. You are ‘that which should not be.’ It’s why you didn’t get Cannibal. You’re not human. You’re something darker. You don’t fit in this universe. You’re an outsider.”

  Lawrence stared hard at her expression. He searched her face for deception. He pulled his hand away.

  “I’m still here because you come from nowhere.” Erika rose. She moved around the table to his side. Her face was full of compassion. She put an arm around him. She lied, “You have no parents. You will never have friends or family. If the government gets you—”

  “E.T. phone home,” Lawrence said.

  “You’ll be stuck in a lab and vivisected,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You know what vivisection is, don’t you?”

  “Dissecting a frog when it’s still alive.” He shuddered.

  “It’s why your aunt discouraged college. Living in Wilton Center, in a town of ten people, is as off the grid as you can be while still being protected.”

  “What’s going to happen to me, now?”

  “You’re going to a school for evil,” Erika said. “The classes are taught by demons. If you flunk, you’ll be eaten at the end of the semester. If you survive, they have a psionics program. They’ll teach you to control your powers.”

  He looked up at her. His eyes were red rimmed. She saw a glimmer of desperate hope in them.

  “Do you want to adopt me?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Erika said. “I would love to adopt you.”

  Lawrence hugged her. She hugged him back. She rested her cheek against the top of his head. He relaxed in her arms. Erika allowed herself a brief, smug smirk. Checkmate, bitch.

  “Your first journey into Maelstrom was a nightmare. We’re all glad you made it out, but nobody is fooled you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine,” Lawrence lied. He was a terrible liar.

  “You can always talk to me. I understand you better than anyone,” Erika added. She said after a moment, “I meant to ask. How did you get Soulbound Gear and Longsword Proficiency Perks? You don’t own a sword.”

  “Last year, when I was with you and Lady Zhang, one of the things she taught me was how to manifest my soul. I can use a few units at a time to change Fate. It doesn’t come up on the status screen. It’s a learned ability. I don’t use it unless I’m doing something hard, like cable knitting.”

  Erika knew of changing fate. Humans in Maelstrom could do it. Demons could not. Erika thought of the elegant looping vines running the length of her new sweater. She had no idea they were so difficult he’d force the universe’s random chance to happen in his favor. She’d prefer to use it when gambling.

  “When I was in Maelstrom, I got the Human Job and had to choose a Background. I got two free Skills. I’ve always liked swords. Kind of obsessed with the Middle Ages. Must have been from playing so much . Too bad fencing classes are a hobby of the rich. Normal people don’t need to swordfight. Now, I can.”

  “How have you been training?” Erika said. “You’ve never held a sword in your life. I never gave you a weapon.”

  “Sticks.” Lawrence grimaced. “My family has a golem bodyguard for the house. His name is Rook. I agreed to the Contract with Lady Zhang to help you, but also for a potion granting Access to the Program. Rook has the Undead Automaton and Housecarl Jobs because of me.”

  “You made an undead golem capable of leveling?” Erika felt scandalized, shocked, horrified, and vaguely impressed. She grew serious. She lowered her voice. “Understand something Faoil, if you tell anyone you made an undead capable of levelling, you will be executed. Do you understand me? You made a mistake.”

  Lawence looked at the table. He disagreed; Rook was a golem who happened to be made from bone, not a true Undead. Still, getting yelled at by Erika was awful. Emotion welled up inside. He sniffed.

  “It’s okay,” Erika said, though it sounded insincere. “Things happen. That’s why you need people like me to tell you what to do. Adults. Next time, check with me before acting.”

  Lawrence resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Her definition was so broad it covered nothing. Worse, it wouldn’t be okay, because if people found out about Rook, they’d kill him. It would be Lawrence’s fault. His best friend, his one friend, gone. Lawrence wiped his eyes.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “I’m here.”

  Lawrence took a deep breath.

  Someone at the bar made a loud joke. Everyone laughed. Lawrence’s heart skipped a beat. He froze. He was back in the dark dungeon. It wasn’t a sex dungeon; it was a regular murder dungeon with soundproofed walls and drains in the floor. Four demons stood around him, laughing.

  Lawrence looked down at the remains of his right hand. The demons didn’t know he was a southpaw. They’d assumed he was right-handed and made a bet. They bet him they could make him beg them to cut his hand off before they were done toying with him. Then they cut all the skin off. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt.

  He blinked. He was back in Nelly’s. Erika frowned at him. Lawrence’s hand tingled with the pain memory. Tears made rivers down his face.

  “Hey,” Erika said. She hugged him.

  Lawrence didn’t respond. His shoulders shook with silent sobs. The room began shaking from a small earthquake. He tried to get his emotions under control. It was just so hard. No one understood. No one would believe him. He’d gone to Hell and gotten tortured by some psycho nobles? If he told anyone, he’d get committed.

  He tried to stand. Erika pushed him back into his seat.

  “Not yet, kid. Take your time.” She massaged his back. They stayed there until the earthquake passed. In the bar, all the patrons crawled out from under their tables. The bartender fixed all the bottles.

  (Thank you,) Lawrence murmured. He added, “You must think of me with contempt.”

  “Why?” Erika said in genuine shock.

  “I shouldn’t show fear around you.” He looked at the remains of his meal. “It’s a law of the jungle. Never show fear to predators.”

  “I am not a predator, hon. I’m your foster-mom. You can trust me.” She sensed well-placed mistrust flicker. His Wisdom was low. Still, concerning the character of a demon, his instincts were sharp. She used the fragment of herself she had hidden in his mind to plant a seed of trust.

  “Thank you,” he said, not knowing what she did. He thought his change came from within. He was desperate for motherly affection. Desperate for the honest, simple trust one could place in a good parent. He wanted to feel safe and warm. Loved.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Let’s leave these people in peace.”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” he lied.

  “Lawrence?” Erika cocked her head.

  “I have to go?” he sounded hopeful and doubtful.

  “Lawrence.” Erika didn’t do anything. She just looked at him.

  “I was going to flush Josephine’s watch down the toilet,” he admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s easier than my more elaborate plan of going to the Shell down the road and buying a pool noodle. If they still sell any this time of year. I was going to cut up the noodle, tie the watch to a piece with some shoelaces, and throw it in the Kankakee River. It would float downstream. Hopefully the current would carry it away before it washed ashore. Then I realized I could do all that just by flushing.”

  Erika stared.

  “Dollars to donuts there’s a tracker in it,” he said.

  Erika felt stupid. Of course there would be a tracker in it. He was lucky Josephine didn’t embed one in his hip.

  “It isn’t even a manly watch. It looks like something my grandma would wear.” He twisted his wrist. The watch sat almost flush.

  “A little harsh. I think it’s pretty.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a girl.” Lawrence picked up his tray. He dumped the containers in the trash. He turned to the bathroom when Erika caught his arm.

  “Hey.” Her grip was like steel. “Maybe don’t get rid of it.”

  “Why?” he looked at her like she was crazy.

  “You throw it away; she’ll know it’s gone. She’ll send someone to come pick you up. You keep it, she leaves you alone.” Erika could see this argument appealed to his logic. She added, “She said it has diplomatic immunity. The police can’t touch you. You never know when something that will come in handy.”

  Lawrence wavered. He wanted to flush it to spite Josephine. He didn’t want to be her collared pet. Maybe if he was an old man in his thirties with a master’s in Business Administration and no career prospects. Erika wasn’t too far off, he realized.

  Erika pursed her lips.

  “What emotion is that?” he said innocently.

  “Suppressed anger,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  He thought for a second. “What emotion is speaking with your teeth clamped?”

  “More suppressed anger.” Erika glared.

  “For what?”

  “You called me old.” Erika took his arm. She steered him toward the door. She dug her sharp nails in.

  “Ow,” he complained.

  “Never call a woman old,” Erika ordered. She pulled him outside. “Never comment on a woman’s age or weight.”

  “I didn’t say anything about your weight,” he sounded confused. “Why? Do you think you’re fat? …Cause you’re not.”

  “Get in the car,” she snapped. Erika reminded herself she asked for this. She breathed through her nose.

  She took him home. He kept reminding her to take her foot off the gas. Then he fell asleep. Erika turned east at the “governor’s mansion.” It was a DuPont chemical plant. She glanced at the sleeping boy.

  He looked like an angel. Long, messy white hair, larger than normal eyes, delicate features. She couldn’t stay mad at him. She wanted to protect him from all the world's evil. She reminded herself his Legendary Face Perk affected her. He was the product of a demonic breeding program.

  Back at their house, she parked next to a heavily customized Chevrolet Suburban. There were three. Erika didn’t wake the boy. A small army of suits waited. She ignored them. She carried the sleeping boy inside.

  She interrupted a military officer informing his aunt and uncle their rights were being violated.

  “Oh, perfect timing,” the older man said. He gestured to two gorillas.

  “If you touch him, you will all die,” Erika said. She poked the men’s minds. They stopped. “If you wake him, he will kill you.”

  “More reason to take him away,” the colonel said.

  “Tomorrow,” Erika said. “We can discuss terms. He is under the protection of a foreign dignitary. He has diplomatic immunity.”

  The Colonel laughed, incredulous.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “Believe it,” Erika assured him. To his aunt and uncle, she said: “Josephine.”

  Aunt Lupa’s face turned white.

  Erika carried him to his room. She tucked him into bed. She kicked out the agent hiding in his closet. A female agent had somehow wedged herself under his bed. She looked embarrassed. Erika was not impressed.

  After throwing them both out the window, she locked it. She wished his room was on a second or third story. She’d thrown the agents out on their necks. But because the drop was a few feet, and cushioned by a thornbush, they survived.

  She stayed with him the rest of the night. She did not sleep. She lay on top of the covers while he snuggled beneath. In the morning, she helped him pack. He said his goodbyes. Then, in front of the stooges and everyone else, he vanished.

  “Where did he go?” the Colonel demanded.

  “The Scholomance,” Erika said, leaving. The agents surrounded her. “He was inducted.”

  “You’re under arrest,” the Colonel scolded. “For treason.”

  Erika laughed. She turned incorporeal as the agents tried to tackle her. She didn’t bother drawing her pistol. She entered the Colonel’s mind. She made him draw his own weapon and shoot himself in the head. She went from agent to agent. She calmly possessed them one by one. She made them kill each other and themselves. She left one alive: the lone female. The woman was paralyzed with terror.

  “Tell your people if they touch this family, we will come for them,” Erika ordered. She planted the command in the woman’s mind. This spell did not have an exact analogue in the English language. Greater Geas, perhaps.

  “Yes ma’am,” the woman whimpered. Her knees shook. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

  Erika showed her teeth. She pulled a scroll from her purse. She tore it in half. A fiery hole opened under her feet. She fell into Hell and vanished.