Demonglass by Rachel Hawkins Page B

between God and Lucifer.”
    Dad met my eyes. “Well, demons are the angels who did pick a side. The wrong one, as it turned out.”
    “So what? Just because they used to be angels doesn’t make them—us—the good guys.”
    “No, but it does make us a little more complex than monsters. For example, you weren’t particularly disturbed to find out you were a dark witch, and their powers are remarkably similar to ours. In many ways, a demon is nothing more than a very strong dark witch.”
    “Or Hogaroth the Slimy,” I muttered.
    “What?”
    “I just mean…when Virginia called that demon to possess Alice, did that mean Alice—like, actual, real Alice, her soul or whatever—was gone, and it was just some monster wandering around in her body?”
    Dad gave a startled laugh. “Oh, God, no. Is that what you’ve thought this whole time?”
    I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, how was I supposed to know? It’s not like anyone was in a big hurry to answer all my burning, demony questions.”
    He stopped laughing and actually looked a little sheepish. “You’re right. I’m sorry. No, when a demon is called forth, it’s really nothing more than a large dark…force, basically. That’s what being exiled to hell does to an angel. It strips it of everything but its power. They don’t have names, or personalities, or even bodies. They’re nothing but pure, undiluted magic.”
    “Wow.”
    “Possession isn’t even really the right word for what happens,” Dad said. “It’s more like a meshing . The demon alters everything about that person, even their blood, their DNA. That’s why it can be passed down through families. That’s why if we’re ever grievously injured we don’t die. Our powers heal us.” He nodded at my scarred hand. “Unless, of course, someone uses demonglass on us. But for all that, a demon who was changed during a possession ritual is still essentially the person they always were.”
    “Only now they have the darkest, most powerful magic in the world literally flowing through their veins,” I added.
    “Exactly.” Dad smiled proudly, and I suddenly remembered Alice standing in the clearing, exclaiming, “You did it!” right before I cut off her head.
    My throat was tight when I said, “So if Alice was still Alice, why did she have claws and start drinking blood?”
    Dad shrugged and held up his right hand. Long silver claws sprang up in place of his manicured fingernails, and then disappeared just as quickly. “Any witch or warlock could do that if they wanted to. Try it yourself.”
    I looked down at my ragged nails, still splotched with Iced Strawberry polish from the last time Jenna had tried to give me a manicure. “No thanks.”
    “As for the…other part, blood magic is a very strong, very ancient practice. Again, many witches and warlocks have used it in the past. Your friend Jenna certainly benefits from it. In fact, that’s how vampires were created. Nearly a thousand years ago, a coven of witches were performing a very complicated blood ritual, and—”
    “Alice killed people,” I said, my voice breaking on the last word.
    “Yes, she did,” Dad said calmly. “That much dark magic can drive a person insane. That’s what happened to Alice. It doesn’t mean it will happen to you.”
    He looked at me, his expression intense. “Sophie, I understand your hesitation to embrace your heritage, but it’s vital that you stop thinking of demons as monsters.” He reached out and covered my hand with his. “That you stop thinking of yourself as a monster.”
    Struggling to keep my voice level, I said, “Look, I get that you’re big into this whole Up With Demons thing, but I watched one kill a friend. And Mrs. Casnoff told me that your mom demoned out and killed your dad. So don’t stand there and expect me to believe that being a demon is all sunshine and kittens.”
    “It’s not,” Dad said. “But if you’re willing to listen to me, and to learn more about