“Wealth,” Mom said soberly.

Wealth, like the kind of wealth it took to bribe a woman into bearing a hell-spawn child, maybe.

“Lurine said Hades was the god of wealth,” I said, remembering. “Although Lurine’s pretty damn wealthy in her own right.”

“Mm-hmm.” She turned the next card: La Bandera, the Flag. “This represents a possible course of action.”

“Well, it’s a little late for me to join the color guard,” I said. “So what does it mean?”

“Conflict.”

“As in war?” I asked.

Mom gave a little shrug, her expression troubled. “As in conflict.”

“With Hades, the god of wealth?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I don’t want you to take it too much to heart. Like I said, they’re just cards.”

“No,” I said. “Let’s finish it. What’s next?”

“The major factor influencing the outcome.” She turned over a card to reveal El Corazón, the Heart.

I laughed softly, the sound catching in my throat. “Funny, that’s exactly what one of the Norns told me.”

“One of the Norns?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my temples. “When Hel summoned me after Halloween. As I was leaving Little Niflheim, one of the Norns warned me that when the time came, the fate of the world might hinge on the choices I made.” I glanced at Mom. “Guess I didn’t mention that either, huh?”

“No.” In the flickering light of the candles on the dinette table, her expression was unreadable.

“This whole deepest, darkest fear thing didn’t come out of nowhere.” I traced the outline of El Corazón with one fingertip. “When I asked her if she had any advice, she told me to trust my heart. The Sphinx said something similar,” I added. “Something about learning to see with the eyes of my heart.”

“Sounds like good advice,” Mom said quietly. “You’ve got a good heart, Daisy, baby. I trust it.”

My throat tightened again. “What’s next?”

Her hand hovered over the penultimate card. “Your innermost desire and fear.”

I pointed at the upside-down World. “I thought we already established that.”

“That’s an outcome you fear, not something you desire,” she said. “This is both. It’s a sword that cuts both ways.” She turned it over: El Mano, the Hand. Unable to guess, I gave Mom an inquiring look.

“Power,” she murmured.

The word fell into my thoughts like a stone into a pond, sinking deep and generating ripples. It was true. I hated the sense of impotence that plagued me. I was Hel’s liaison, tasked with upholding her order, an honor I cherished; and yet I was forced to do it with threats and promises, operating within the tricky network of eldritch protocols, a weak mortal dependent on the tools that had been given me and the hard-won skills that had been taught me.

Did I want power, my own power? Power that I could claim through my birthright? Power that could make pissy back-talking fairies blanch in their tracks, power that could blow vampiric hypnosis out of the water, power that could trade stare for stare with a lamia, match an ogre’s strength?

Hell yes, I did.

Did it scare the ever-loving shit out of me?

Hell, yes, it did.

My tail twitched restlessly.

“Do you think about it?” Mom asked softly.

I nodded. “Sometimes.”

“That’s okay, honey.” Her gaze was steady and filled with trust, candle flames reflected in her pupils. “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. And whatever else you are, you are human.”

I gazed at the spread laid out on our old Formica dinette table. A conflict was coming. An influx of wealth threatened to overwhelm the community where my roots lay. I had choices to make, and the world might hang in the balance.

My father’s voice rumbled in the back of my mind, offering a promise of power. You have but to ask, child.

I shook my head to dispel it. “Why did you do it?” I asked my mother. “Choose to have me. You could have terminated the pregnancy. It’s what everyone told you to do. Why didn’t you?”

It wasn’t the first time I’d asked, but it was the first time I’d asked her as an adult, woman to woman. In the past, she’d assured me that it was because I was her baby, and she’d been determined to love me no matter what. Even if I suspected that the truth was somewhat more complicated, that had always been enough for me.

Now I wanted to know the whole truth.

“You know, it’s funny.” Mom’s gaze shifted onto the distance. “Growing up in a fairly conservative community, I wasn’t expecting that kind of pressure. Everyone’s pro-life until it happens to someone they know. An unplanned pregnancy, I mean,” she added, looking back at me. “Not, um . . .”

“A demon seed?” I said wryly. “I thought a lot of people back home didn’t believe that part.”

She nodded. “Most assumed it was a fantasy I’d created to cope with the trauma of being sexually assaulted.”

My tail twitched again, this time with anger. Mom had never actually used those words with me before. I might on occasion be tempted by the birthright my father offered me, but I would never, ever forgive him for what he did to her.

“So the ones who did believe thought you should get rid of the demon seed,” I said. “And the ones who didn’t thought that for the sake of your mental health, you shouldn’t bear your rapist’s child to term.”