I have no control over where I wander in my sleep, but the Afterlife mirrors the Living World. It’s not exact. The Afterlife might hold a mountain long since whittled to rolling hills in the real world, or plains and chasms now buried under dammed lakes. Cities are usually too new to have ghostly reflections, but villages are sometimes older than countries. A village razed to the ground, with all its inhabitants slaughtered, may last far longer in the Afterlife than it ever did in the Living World.

Her first words stuck in my throat. “Good daughter?” I spat at her. “I strike out at you at every turn. I slay every demon I find. I defy your every desire. I don’t want to be your ‘good’ daughter. I want to be your nemesis.”

She smiled proudly. ***AS I HAVE EVER WANTED. YOU HAVE BEEN SO DEFIANT, SO REBELLIOUS IT MAKES ME WONDER AT THESE HUMAN STORIES THAT CLAIM BEING A PARENT IS HARD.*** She put a hand to her heart. ***ALL I HAD TO DO TO RAISE A GLORIOUS CHILD WAS MAKE YOU IMAGINE I WANTED YOU TO BE MY MIRROR. I HAVE UPHELD MY BARGAIN WITH YOUR BIRTH MOTHER.***

“My mother made no bargains with you.” My rage flared as I buried my doubt. Xaltorath loved to lie and twist truth together in binding chains. I’d long since learned not to trust anything she said.

***OH, YOU’D BE SURPRISED WHAT MOTHERS DO TO PROTECT THEIR CHILDREN. SEND THEIR NEWBORN BABES AWAY WITH A HANDMAIDEN. MAKE BARGAINS WITH DEMONS. IT WASN’T EVEN YOUR MOTHER’S FIRST TIME. WE’RE OLD FRIENDS.*** She grinned and set a crimson tongue against her green lips. ***WILL YOU CONTINUE TO BE CONTRARY, I WONDER? KNOWING ALL YOUR BEHAVIOR IS BY MY DESIGN?***

“And how little you understand me if you think I act this way from spite. I despise you and I hate everything you represent. I won’t rest until your kind is no more.”

Xaltorath half blinked, slowly lowering her eyelids like a house cat. Her green lips curled. Then she leaned forward and uttered the single word that has haunted me for years since.

***GOOD.***

5: THE COUNT’S JUSTICE

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Two days since the slaying of the dragon Xaloma

Janel broke off her narration and looked away.

Kihrin stared. “Xaltorath is your mother?”

She glanced back, her smile black as night. “Much to my regret. But I have it on good authority I’m not a demon. Not fully.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring. And who told you that, again?”

She twisted her hand in a flourish in his direction. “You did. But others have told me the same.” Her bright eyes shone for a moment before pain ambushed her. She exhaled.

“Was it bad, the Hellmarch at Lonezh Canton? I can’t imagine—” Kihrin winced and felt a fool. Of course it was. What a demon would do with a child …