Page 46 of The Demon’s Due (Bedeviled #5)

I didn’t want Natán’s death to fulfill some Authority mandate or get them on my side to make my shedim coming out easier. Ironic, since I’d spent my professional life being the perfect operative in order to achieve exactly that.

I’d held myself to impossible standards, true, yet they hadn’t held themselves to a fraction of the same.

Natán, on the other hand, had been many less-than-complimentary things, but in his final moments, his authenticity earned Ezra’s forgiveness.

He’d died on his terms; I would live on mine.

It was time for this Maccabee to go public about being a half shedim.

I retrieved the bottle of scotch whiskey and the drive containing Natán’s final message, but before I ran down to meet the limo driver, I sent a text to everyone in my task force.

This was the right moment to undertake what I was about to do, and I’d have been disappointed if they didn’t approve, but I’d respect it because it impacted them.

I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for replies to come in.

Encouraging messages lit up my phone.

Buoyed, I opened my social media app and, taking a deep breath, flipped my profile from private back to public. I stared dully at the notifications number crawling ridiculously high, the incessant pinging battering against me.

Not in my most anxiety-soaked nightmares had I envisioned a scenario where I’d be sharing my truth in a world where so many people already had definite opinions about me for totally other reasons.

I was supposed to hold my merit up against a clean slate for all to see and be judged on that, not who I was dating.

And after Ezra’s heroics in Toronto, my name wasn’t just recognized by Ezracurriculars anymore.

I’d been uneasy with people using my relationship as some kind of cred for their own agenda. Yet more people would see my post because I was suddenly (in)famous. Was it okay to exploit that currency to achieve my own agenda: acceptance?

I held my screen up to my face and hit record.

“Hi.” I spoke directly into the camera. “My name is Aviva Fleischer. I’m a level three Maccabee operative.

Some of you know me as Ezra Cardoso’s girlfriend, and that reality way outstrips any rumor.

” I winked. “More importantly, I’m also…

” I morphed my human facial features to shedim.

“A half shedim. I spent my life hiding that side of myself, but I’m really proud of the difference I’ve made as an operative, and I’m done feeling ashamed. ”

I boosted the screen up a smidge.

“In eleven hours from now, operatives all around the world are going to defeat the Luce based on a strategy that I came up with. We’ve worked hard as a team to nail down our approach, but it would mean a lot, whether you are a half shedim, Eishei Kodesh, Trad, or vampire, to come out and support us. ”

I reverted to my human features.

“I can’t promise that everyone will welcome half shedim, but there will be more people than you ever dared dream.” I nodded. “Earth is our home, and we all want what’s best for it. We came through the Endless Night, now let’s usher in a new dawn, one where we are stronger together.”

I had a moment of hesitation before I posted it, but when it was done, years of my carefully erected shields crumbled to dust. It was like diving into deep water: an initial shock of vulnerability, followed by a rush of wild freedom.

My hands were trembling slightly as I put away my phone, but my breath came easier than it had in years.

Ezra and I stuck to each other’s sides for the entire return flight, curled on the couch (so much better than an economy seat).

He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I lived with this identity for so long and now it’s gone.”

“The Crimson Prince?”

“His son.”

“You’re still his son.”

He shook his head. “Right now, I can’t see beyond his death to whatever else I am.”

Ezra’s grief had to fade from a raw abscess to a scar whose story he could remember without pain. Thinking about the future wouldn’t help him.

“Take whatever time you need. I’ll be by your side while you do.” I smiled up at him. “Tell me about your parents.”

His memories came haltingly at first, but then more freely.

Some of them were incredibly funny, like the time Natán took Ezra along on his first territory negotiation with an Eishei Kodesh Mafia to practice all the classic intimidation techniques he’d been taught.

Except his dad had just gotten his first smartphone and it kept buzzing. Ezra’s menacing behavior was getting more and more overt in overcompensation for Natán getting more and more flustered trying to silence the notifications.

“Natán finally smashed the phone in rage, totally blowing any upper hand we had. So, I lapsed into a bad Dracula accent and threatened to suck their blood.”

I howled with laughter. “What did Natán do?”

“Shot them.”

“Oh my God! Your life was so fucked up. What have I gotten myself into?”

“Okay, demon girl. Settle down.” He swatted me with a pillow. “Now that we’ve killed my father, what should we do for our next date? I’m thinking a couple’s pottery class.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Delacroix might still be roaming free.”

“Imagine if he’s king of the demon realm now.” Ezra made a “yikes” face.

“Too hard to get to him? Need to think of a different third date?” I said.

“No, we’re saving that for a special occasion. Our five-year anniversary.”

“The birth of our first child. Oh no, wait, we’ll celebrate that by engraving their name on the stake that murdered their abuelo.”

“Do you want kids?” Ezra asked seriously.

“One day. Do you?”

“So long as our dhampir shedim bundle of joy has my temperament.”

I screwed up my face. “Can I change my answer?”

“No.” He looked at his phone. “By my calculations there’s six hours left on this flight, and you need to sleep.”

“Right. When we get back, I’ll have to hit the ground running with the backburn.”

Ezra snuggled up behind me.

“Are you really okay?” I said.

“More than I could have ever hoped. Thank you, mi cielo.”

“Just another handy service provided by blood-bonded mates.” I twisted around and kissed him. “I love you.”

Once the plane had landed and taxied to a complete stop in Vancouver, I turned on my phone—and nearly dropped it at the explosive flurry of bings.

My post had gone viral. #StrongerTogether and #NewDawn were trending across all social media platforms. To be fair, so was #NotMyMaccabee along with a few other less complimentary hashtags, but I didn’t see any death threats. Yet.

I waded through dozens of texts to the ones that mattered.

Junior: Go big or go home . It was accompanied by a screenshot of her in all her shedim glory that she’d posted to her own profiles. Duck face was impressive on a demon.

Sachie, Darsh, and Silas were obviously supportive, though Gemma groused that arranging security to handle the crowds they expected was proving to be a bitch.

The Authority was oddly and troublingly silent. As was Michael. After I’d posted my video, I’d let her and Zhengyu know about Natán, but neither had commented. Not on his “murder” and not about my coming-out video.

I hadn’t expected the Powers that Be to publicly embrace me (okay, yes, I absolutely had), but where was my mother’s reaction? She’d been so supportive of me coming out to my colleagues when the demons attacked HQ that it hadn’t crossed my mind that this would be different.

I rode into town with my stomach in knots.

What struck me most on the drive from the airport wasn’t what the Luce had changed, but what was missing: no weeds pushed through cracks in the sidewalks, no moss softened the edges of drainage ditches, and no lichen roughened the concrete barriers.

The Luce had deemed these “imperfect” symbioses unnecessary, leaving behind a landscape stripped of its smallest inhabitants.

In their place, every surface gleamed with an unnatural polish, as if the world had been laminated. Even the seams between pavement slabs had been sealed into perfect, unbroken lines.

“The Ezracurriculars are mobilizing,” Ezra said, scrolling on his phone. “They’re arranging meet-ups at the rift site and are making special friendship bracelets to welcome half shedim.”

I blinked rapidly. Damn it, I had to get hold of my emotions before I went into the final showdown with the Luce. “Did you put them up to it?”

“I’d love to take credit for this, but no. It turns out that Stasia is a half shedim.”

“The president of your fan club? Did you know?”

He shook his head. “But she put all the Aviva Fleischer dots together: Maccabee, my girlfriend, half-shedim, and she’s freaking out.”

When I was growing up, it would have meant the world to me to have a half shedim, especially a female one, show that they were an accepted part of a team.

That they could be loved by the hot guy.

I nudged Ezra. “Arrange for me to meet Stasia when this is all over.”

“Absolutely not. She’s an excellent fan club president and I’m not losing her to you.”

I patted his cheek. “You’re totally losing her to me. My club won’t have a stupid name.”

“Ezracurriculars is exceedingly clever.”

I blinked at him. “Wow. You chose it, didn’t you?”

“Because it’s brilliantly clever,” he reiterated haughtily.

“No. The Cherry Bombs is brilliantly clever. Fiendishly clever even.” My Brimstone Baroness deserved commemorating. “We’ll have T-shirts. Yours don’t, but my fans deserve superior merch opportunities.”

“I can have T-shirts.”

“Don’t be desperate. It’s unseemly.”

The world might end tomorrow, but tonight we were two idiots arguing about fan clubs, and I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Not even superior merch opportunities.