Seventy-Three: A Visitor

Lilith set Litt on her lap and gave her rump a firm smack, sharp as a winter gust.

The little shard had been yowling under the White Dragon’s hand, tears gleaming like dew.

She bit her lip, then flopped across Lilith’s thigh, limp as wet paper, humming through sobs.

“Do you know you were wrong?”

Lilith’s palm fell once more, then stilled like a quiet lake.

She flipped Litt over, sat her upright, and tapped her brow with one finger, cool as moonlight.

“I knooow—”

Litt dragged the word like a reluctant kite against the wind.

She hated being lectured, even with her tail feathers stinging and her apology stuck in her throat.

Lilith gave her backside one last light pat, then let her slide off like snow from a branch.

“Fine. I won’t deal with you further today.

But you drank my blood when you weren’t supposed to.

So tonight, no supper.”

“Why?” Litt bristled like a hungry sparrow in frost.

Being so young, she was already a little food goblin.

Not feeding her felt worse than slaying her; her stomach protested like a drum.

“If Litt doesn’t eat, Litt will starve.”

“You should go hungry a few times, so the lesson sinks like ink in paper.”

Lilith flicked her forehead.

A crisp snap rang out, and the girl yelped, clutching her head, eyes damp like mist, staring at Lilith with wounded moon-calf eyes.

“Don’t glare at me like that.

No matter how you stare, you’re not eating tonight.

Abaddon will keep an eye on you.”

Lilith tossed Abaddon a look.

The little Demon nodded, steady as a stone, showing they stood on the same front.

“Hmph!” Litt puffed like a tiny kettle.

She had only two meal tickets in this house, and now they’d joined forces like twin mountains.

If she didn’t give in, she’d lose more than one meal.

She shuffled to Lilith’s side, twisting like a vine.

“Then… will Litt get food tomorrow?”

“Ask your sister Abaddon tomorrow.

She’ll be the one feeding you blood from now on.”

Lilith teased, smile bright as morning.

“But… I want to drink Mama’s blood.”

Her cheeks flared pink, quick as dawn.

A Vampire’s skin is pale as porcelain, so the blush bloomed like a tiny cherry tomato.

She looked just like Lilith when shy—only Lilith was a big ripe tomato, and Litt was the pocket-sized kind.

“Didn’t you say you hated Mama and liked Sister Abaddon best?

Why not keep drinking Sister Abaddon’s blood?”

Lilith laughed, voice light as falling petals.

The little Demon glanced over, a bit speechless, watching the White Dragon who’d been gone for a spell.

In her heart, she sighed: this one’s turning more and more like Nidhogg.

Stay together long enough, even temperament gets dyed the same color.

“I don’t hate Mama anymore. Mama’s the best!”

Litt remembered her earlier grumbling, then fed it to the birds.

In a battle between pride and appetite, appetite won like fire over tinder.

She wrapped Lilith in a hug, loudly proclaiming, bright as a bell.

“And isn’t Sister Abaddon good?”

Lilith let the slothlike child hang off her, not angry at all.

She pinched Litt’s cheeks, soft as glutinous rice, and asked, all sunshine.

“She’s good, but Mama’s better.”

Litt tilted up her face and planted a kiss on Lilith’s cheek, quick as a butterfly.

The Little White Dragon set her down, foreheads touching like two white clouds.

Lilith whispered, gentle as rain, “Sadly, Mama has to go out soon.

I can’t stay with you tonight.”

“Ah—”

Litt’s voice sagged, heavy as a damp cloak.

Seeing her mood crash like a wave, the White Dragon couldn’t help but laugh.

She pinched Litt’s mouth corner, trying to hook a smile like a crescent moon.

Litt let herself be molded, unwilling as a cat in a bath, producing the ugliest grin, crooked as a cracked bowl.

Lilith couldn’t hold it in—she snorted and laughed.

“Hahaha. Don’t worry.

Mama will leave you a last drink of blood.

I won’t be gone long. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Lilith smiled at Litt, warm as a hearth.

The little shard, once sad, lit up like a lantern at dusk.

She hugged the White Dragon, cheering, “Mama’s the best!”

Lilith lingered in the room with Litt and Abaddon for a while, time drifting like a slow stream.

She found that children here and back there liked the same few things.

The rambunctious ones loved to charge and clash like toy cavalry.

The quiet ones preferred playing house, neat as a folded quilt.

Litt stood with the rambunctious tide; Abaddon looked mature, but she was still a child, calm as a pond.

Lilith let Litt ride her shoulders and galloped around the room, wind in their hair.

Then she sat with both of them to play house.

No matter the role, Lilith ended up as either Mama or Daughter, circling the same wheel.

She never managed to revive that heroic swagger inside the game; her dream broke like brittle sugar.

She felt properly indignant, cheeks puffed like buns.

They played until the sun slanted and sank, gold spilling like honey.

The Little White Dragon’s voice turned hoarse, rough as a reed flute.

She clapped, clean as flint, and declared the day’s games over.

“Pack up. Time for dinner.”

Only then did the two little ones spare her, darting out like swallows.

Running back to her room, Lilith exhaled, long as a winter breath.

She draped on a coat and sat on the bed, then toppled backward bonelessly, melting into the soft quilt like snow to water.

“Taking care of kids is exhausting,” she cried toward the ceiling, a wail like wind in rafters.

“It is exhausting.

So now do you see how sinful it was to ditch me and run to the mountain for your research?”

Nidhogg’s voice floated in, tinged with grievance, heavy as rain clouds.

She moved to Lilith’s side, shadow long as night.

“Uwaah! Why are you here?”

The sudden Black Dragon startled Lilith like a sparrow flushed from a bush.

The White Dragon sprang up like a coil, then relaxed when she recognized Nidhogg’s voice.

She hugged the quilt and went soft again, collapsing like a felled willow.

“This is my room.

Why can’t I be here?”

Nidhogg sat on the bed’s edge, smile curving like a crescent.

Lilith’s random question amused the Black Dragon.

She teased, “What, has Miss Lilith finally decided to throw me out?”

“Pfft, pfft. Who’s throwing you out?”

Lilith stuck out her tongue, sulking like a drizzle.

“Who taught you to talk like this?

You used to be icy as a glacier.

How’d you turn this cheeky?”

“You only thought she was icy because you didn’t know her.

Spend enough time with her, and you learn the truth.

She’s always been like this—quietly shameless.”

A familiar voice chimed from the door, bright as a silver bell.

Lilith looked up and saw the Silver Dragon she knew too well.

“How’d you get up here?”

Nidhogg hadn’t expected the Silver Dragon to appear at their door.

She stood and went to greet her, steps smooth as silk.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t come in.

So I came to take a look.”

The Silver Dragon handed her carry-bundle to Nidhogg, then crossed to Lilith on the bed.

She smiled, warm as spring.

“How are you, my dear sister?”

Typhon wasn’t much taller than Lilith.

She grinned, and a tiny sharp fang showed between her teeth, cute as a kitten’s tooth.