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“Like saving the world, perhaps?” Zayne replies.

Yeah, he’s definitely right.

The night is warm, and for once, it’s not raining. In fact, it’s quite pleasant out here watching the stars with the two people I love best. Well, almost best, but I’m trying not to think about Khaosti.

I open my mouth to answer—probably with my usual sarcasm—when a shrill scream rips through the night, followed by the crash of breaking glass as something is hurled through the window of the house below.

I wince. I hope it’s not Lissa, but it didn’t sound big enough to be a whole person.

Lissa is my foster mother—soon to be ex-foster mother. She’s not evil, but that’s really the best you can say about her. She’s apathy personified, with a nasty drug habit which drives most of her decision-making. Pete, the foster father from hell, on the other hand, deserves the title. Luckily, he’s been absent, driving a big truck on the continent, since I got back from my adventures a month ago. Unfortunately, tonight he turned up, so Josh and I made a quick getaway.

Zayne appeared an hour later. He left the foster system a year ago and moved out, but he’d heard Pete was back in town, so he came straight over to check that we were okay. Zayne is a sweet guy—well, to me anyway—and has been since I moved in here three years ago; a sixteen-year-old amnesiac with way too muchbaggage for someone with no memories. To everyone else, he can be a complete asshole and usually is.

These days, he’s much less concerned about us than he used to be. He knows I can take care of myselfandJosh. I have a sword. A pointy one.

Josh huddles closer to me, and I wrap my arm around his bony shoulder. He’s had a shit life. I hope to make it better, you know, once I’ve finished with the saving-the-world crap. That’s presuming there’s a world remaining after my attempt to save it!

It’s gone quiet again down below. Hopefully, Pete has drunk himself into a stupor.

“So,” Zayne says, “are you going to talk to me? It’s been a month now, and I know there’s stuff you’re not telling me. Time to fucking spill, princess.”

He only calls me princess when he’s pissed off at me. And he’s right; I have been holding back on him. But to be fair, I’ve had a lot to process.

The thing is, he deserves to know. I dragged him into this whole thing and changed his life completely—though I think he’s come to terms with that. But again, it’s something we’ve not really talked about. We’ve both been pretending to be normal. Self-delusional or what?

I heave a huge sigh, glance at Zayne, then give a pointed look at Josh. I don’t want to talk in front of him. I mean, this is the stuff of nightmares, and he has enough of those already. Zayne nods, and we fall into a heavy silence. It’s peaceful now that the screams and crashes have stopped, and I stare up at the stars. Is Khaosti up there somewhere? I’m a little unsure of the actual geography of his home—the Astral Plain. I suspect it’s a completely different dimension, invisible from Earth. Anyway, he was supposed to follow me here. That was the last thing I heard him shout as I dove through the mirror.

It’s been a month, and there’s been no sign of him. Maybe he went through a mirror to Valandria instead. It’s not as though he had the time to pick and choose. Maybe I should go there and search for him.

I just don’t know.

At least there are no lightning flashes in the sky, and my head is clear, so there’s a good chance that there are no scary monsters lurking nearby. Another sigh.

Josh has relaxed in my arms, a dead weight, but there’s not much of him, so it’s no problem. He’s fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil around him. No more putting this off. I shift a little so I can look into Zayne’s face and see his reactions.

“Princess…?” Zayne says, his voice quiet so as not to wake Josh.

“I’m not a princess,” I growl.

“I’m guessing you know what you are, though. You’ve remembered, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” I mumble. This is so hard. Because it’s not what I expected. Not even close. But then, who could have foreseen this?

“Hey, it can’t be that bad.”

I snort. “Want to bet?”

He grins. “Now you have to tell me.”

Anxiety twists in my stomach, but I take a deep breath. I can do this. “I’m Lucifer’s daughter.” I say it really quickly, as though that might somehow make it more palatable.

“What?” He almost yells the word, and Josh flinches in his sleep but then settles.

I sniff. “It appears that Lucifer is my father. My mother apparently decided he wouldn’t make a great role model, so she spirited me out of Hell as soon as I was born and hid me with her sister. Hecate.” At the thought of my mother, my hand goes to the amber pendant at my throat—the only thing I had on mewhen I was found three years ago. That’s why they called me Amber. It was supposed to be temporary until I remembered my real name—which didn’t happen. Well, not until a month ago. The stone is warm to the touch. Apparently, it was a gift from my mother.

“Hecate is your aunt?” Zayne asks.

“So it would seem.” I give a little sideways glance at him to see how he’s taking all this. There’s a frown between his eyes, as if he’s trying to puzzle something out. Then he snickers. “Lucifer’s fucking daughter. Well, that explains a lot.”