“Uh-huh. Sounds like you know more about it than I do,” I said. “I hope they were planning to inform me.”

“Of course.” Mom set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “We were just talking. Sandra’s been after me to join the coven for years.” She gave me a faint smile. “She thinks I have a gift.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked her.

Her smile faded. “I’ve had enough of summoning for one lifetime, honey,” she said quietly. “I’m happy with my cards.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew the details of my conception. The whole town knew. Mom had been vacationing in Pemkowet with college roommates when it happened. They’d awakened in the middle of the night and witnessed the, um, results of my mother’s inadvertent summoning. Mom had never hidden anything about my heritage from me. From my earliest memory, everything was on the table for discussion, including the difficulty of raising a half-demon baby as a single mother and her decision to move permanently to Pemkowet, where at least there was a community that understood eldritch issues.

But the one thing she never talked about was the . . . act . . . itself. And God knows, I never asked. I mean, duh. It’s not something parents discuss with their children under the best of circumstances.

Now I felt a sharp stab of anger at my absent father, sharp enough that cans of fruit on a shelf in the tiny kitchen jumped and rattled.

“Daisy!” Mom said in alarm.

“Sorry.” I wrestled my anger under control. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just . . .” I asked the question I never thought I would. “Was it awful?”

My mom drew a quick, short breath as though I’d struck her, then met my gaze with her clear blue eyes. “No,” she said simply. “Not at first, not while I still thought I was dreaming. Not until I awoke to my friends’ screams and understood that what was happening to me was real. Then . . . yes.”

Getting up from the table, I put my arms around her and leaned my brow against hers. She hugged me back hard. We stood that way until the teakettle shrilled, making both of us jump.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Turning away, Mom shut off the burner and poured water for two mugs of tea, letting it steep until it was good and strong before adding sugar and lots of milk. “Sweetheart, you know I love you, and I’m proud of you no matter what.” She handed me one of the mugs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. That coven’s got years of experience on you, and they didn’t know any better.”

“I did.” I blew on my tea. “I didn’t trust myself.”

“Next time will be different,” she said in a firm tone. “You’ll find a way to fix this, Daisy baby. I have faith in you.”