“So,” I began carefully, “suppose I were to believe everything you’ve just told me. Where do I fit into all of this?” I asked. “My entire life, the Kingdom of Hell has been at war with Heaven. You cannot possibly tell me that you and my father set aside your enmity for a night of passion?” I chuckled without a scrap of humour. “Or am I an immaculate conception? Isn’t that a tale your little groupie humans believe?”

Her jaw twitched. “I called a … ceasefire, for want of a better word.” She stood from the desk, and I let myself look properly at this female who claimed motherhood over me. She was tall and slender, delicately proportioned even with Her height. Her face would, in the human world, be seen as conventionally beautiful—Her eyes were large, Her nose petite, Her cheekbones high and defined. Her lips, even thinned in a frown, were full.

She had nothing on Jemma, with her cheeky grin, and twinkling, mischievous eyes, and curtains of pink hair. Jemma, who might be in danger, despite my best efforts, because this deity had decided to detain me.

“Can you please get to the point?” I grated. “I have urgent business in the Human Realm.”

She faced me, coming around the desk and leaning against it, Her eyes gleaming with understanding that had my chest knotting up painfully.

“Your little pink-haired human?” She asked. “Oh, she plays an important role in all of this, Simeon.”

“That is not my name,” I grated. “I am Satan Junior. I have been my entire life, and some smarmy God waltzing in and claiming to be my mother will not change that.” My fists clenched and unclenched by my sides, and that thrumming sensation in my chest rampaged. “And you will leave Jemma out of this! She’s already been traumatised enough, thanks to me!”

I tried to bite back the next words, but my morbid, terrified curiosity got the better of me. “How is she involved?”

God smirked, but Her eyes froze over. “She was the test … and you passed.”

I shook my head, rage rising, mingling with those tight, uncomfortable thumps in my chest. “Whatever test she was, I failed it miserably!” Heat prickled behind my eyes.

Devils do not cry … not in front of God, anyway.

“I told your father, during our ceasefire, that the only way for us to restore balance between Heaven and Hell was to unite both kingdoms, under one ruler.” Her eyes pierced me. “He refused to allow that ruler to be me. I refused to allow it to be him. The compromise?” She leaned back on Her hands, eyeing me calculatingly. “You.”

I blanched, choking on my own saliva. Coughing wildly, staggering backwards, I gasped, “You … you and my father … procreated … actually did the deed, the old-fashioned way … with the sole intention that I would take over … from both of you?”