“Father,” said Cecile sharply. She was standing in the center of the ring with her hands on her hips. “Do we really have to get into all this?”

“She’s family, Cecile. I promised her that she would have all the answers to her tiny, stupid, human questions if she came to Paris.”

Cecile rolled her eyes.

“And so back to my story,” said Althacazur, striking a different tone to please Cecile. “Where was I?”

“That I’m family,” said Lara, trying to hide her distaste at the idea.

“Oh yes.” He put his finger up. “Nine months later… I think you know where this story is going. My dear Juno gives birth to…” He stopped and seemed to consider something. “… a lovely creature.”

“A creature?” Lara wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be asking questions. She knew a bit of this story from reading the entry on Althacazur in The New Demonpedia.com. Juno Wagner and her child died in childbirth.

He ignored her. “Perhaps I failed to fully explain the rules to Juno, so enraptured with her was I. You see, my love was a human and I, a daemon. There are laws against this type of coupling. It’s frankly forbidden. I mean, I didn’t create the laws, but I was never much of a rule follower anyway. Well, Juno died in childbirth. All the women who bear my children die—it’s too much for a human to carry a daemon’s baby, no matter what Mia Farrow does on-screen. In fact, the offspring die, too. Except in this case, they didn’t. Before she died, my dear Juno gave birth to an imperfectly perfect creature—a rare cambion. It was the perfect amalgamation of good… Juno… and evil… well… me.

“Cambions tend not to survive for a reason. Given I’m not just a daemon but a major daemon, this particular cambion didn’t blend the mortal and daemon things as well as one would have hoped. It was all a bit messy. It’s hard to explain to a mortal, but Esmé and Cecile were fused.” Like a magician, he conjured a picture, then jumped up from his throne and presented it to Lara—a grainy, old-timey photo.

Lara studied the old photograph mounted on thick paper like heavily sepia-toned Victorian images tended to be. In this one, an otherworldly, half-daemon child with two little heads was dressed in a single black lace gown. The girls, who appeared to be about four years old, were lovingly arranged on a chair, like dolls. Keeping with Victorian style, an oversize satin bow was perched on each of their heads, positioned carefully over tended curls—one blond set and one dark.