Chapter Eleven

Vale

A few days later, when Coco drops me off at the courthouse, there's still a warm, contented glow to her face. A smug satisfaction washes over me, knowing I'm the cause of her blissed-out state. And to think, all it took was an orgasm to crack Ms. Perfect's rigid exterior.

"I'm gonna go home and change, grab Mariah, and then meet you back here so we can go eat," Coco says as she pulls up to the curb.

Unable to resist, I lean across the console and grab the collar of her blazer, pulling her into a mouth-crushing kiss. Coco melts into me, a soft sigh escaping her lips. My upcoming check-in will likely take at least an hour, but I find myself wishing for Thraxxius's power to freeze time. I want to stretch this moment with Coco indefinitely, consequences to the space- time continuum be damned. She is worth it.

My mind races ahead, planning our evening. It’s technically our first date, so I want it to be perfect. I'll take her to Lucky Magic Diner, order the legendary Banshee's Whisper Wings. I'll show her the table where my family and I used to gather every Friday night, before my parents started working double shifts, and point out where I'd carved my initials into the wall as a kid. The thought of sharing a piece of my past—one of the few good memories I have of Winter Bliss—sends an unexpected warmth through my chest.

Coco pushes me away, giggling. "Vale, you're going to be late," she admonishes, though her eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So?" I steal another quick kiss. "What are they going to do, arrest me?"

"Yes!" She gives me another playful shove, and I reluctantly exit the car, my body already missing her touch.

As I climb the courthouse steps, Coco's horn blares behind me. I turn to find her leaning out the window, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. "Good luck with your probation officer, honey!" she calls out, waving enthusiastically before speeding off down the street. I swear her laughter echoes in the air as her tail lights disappear.

A human woman, clearly scandalized by the mention of my probation officer, scurries past me towards the courthouse entrance, almost tripping over her feet. I follow at a leisurely pace, whistling a jaunty tune, my steps light and carefree. For the first time in years, Winter Bliss doesn't feel like a prison.

Officer Dale’s door is closed when I reach her office, and from the deep, muffled voice coming from behind the hall, I figure she’s still meeting with Rex. I plop down in the seat outside her door, and it’s not long before Iggy appears. Relief washes over me at the sight of her. Though she'd texted days ago to confirm she wasn't dead (and to tell Rex and me to get a life), seeing her in person eases a tension I hadn't realized I'd still been carrying.

"Is Rex in there?" she asks, nodding towards the closed door. I get a flash of déjà vu from the question and remember the countless times we spent outside the principal’s office, waiting to be interrogated. Ambrose finally learned to save time and punish all three of us, no matter who came up with the idea.

I scan her from head to toe, taking in her disheveled state. She’s wearing the same slinky outfit from the night of our arrest, one stiletto bent at an awkward angle. Yet Iggy carries herself with pride, ignoring her obvious limp.

"Yup. You don't look so hot," I say, meeting her sharp gaze. My chest tightens with guilt as I notice her slightly hollowed cheeks. Has she lost weight? While I've been playing house with Coco, my friend has clearly been struggling.

She collapses into the seat beside me, releasing a weary sigh I feel all the way to my bones. "Same to you, scruffy."

I catch my reflection in a nearby window, noting my tousled hair and the shadow of stubble on my jaw. A smirk tugs at my lips as I remember how I'd gotten so disheveled. I barely even notice my horns.

Barely.

"What a fucking month, huh?" I say, turning back to Iggy.

"Tell me about it."

I angle towards her, lowering my voice. "Hey, I wanted to run an idea past you. This doctor I'm working for, or fake married to, or whatever, she's a special psychologist. If you want, I could set up an appointment for you to see her."

Iggy's eyes flare with anger. If she could spark, my eyebrows would be burned off right now. "Excuse you. A special psychologist? What exactly do you think is wrong with me?"

"The iddies ," I whisper, ignoring her warning hiss to be quiet. "She could treat you, or at least diagnose you."

Iggy throws her hands up in exasperation. "Oh yes, please! Have your little doctor friend create a file on me, officially label me as defective and send it off to some national medical database so that it follows me around the rest of my life! Can I sign up twice for that?"

"You didn't destroy the statue, Iggy. You should have let us tell them." I cross my arms, shaking my head. If only she could have seen Coco's demonstration a few days ago. She wouldn't be fighting me like a cornered alley cat.

"Like they were going to believe you two drunk idiots, anyway."

"Maybe they wouldn't have, but they'll definitely believe her. She's brilliant." A smile creeps onto my face at the thought of Coco, and I quickly try to hide it behind my hand.

Iggy's eyes narrow. "Oh, Sweet Mother Below. Are you seriously falling for some small-town doctor just like in your movie?"

"Life imitates art." I snort, but her words unsettle me. Falling? I'm not falling. Valefor Embergrave is a Hollywood movie star. He doesn't fall for locals, no matter how brilliant, sexy, or gorgeous they might be. "She's more than a doctor. She's a scientist, a psychologist in a highly specialized field.” As if that would justify why someone like me could fall for someone like Coco. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not. “If you had an official diagnosis from her, my lawyer says your appeal would move quickly. You could be done with all this in a day or two. You could go home, Iggy. Don't you want that?"

As the question hangs in the air, I find myself wondering the same thing. Do I want to leave Winter Bliss and return to LA? The fact that I find myself hesitating before answering 'yes, obviously' is deeply concerning.

" M r. Embergrave, have a seat," Officer Dale says, not looking up from the paperwork on her desk as I enter her office. When Rex called Iggy into Dale’s office, he gave me a playful kick. Just like at the press event on his friend’s ranch a few weeks ago, he looks good. Happy. I mean, he still smells like the inside of a goat pen, but what else is new?

When it’s my turn with our probation officer, I settle into the creaky chair across from her, channeling Khastor's easy confidence. "Officer Gertie Dale," I purr, rolling her name off my tongue with my country twang. She glances up, and I flash her The Scorcher, my gaze lingering on the impressive biceps straining against her tight uniform sleeve. "You're looking exceptionally strong today. What's your secret? My management has me doing virtual training with a demon but," I lean in, whispering conspiratorially, "between you and me, we both know orcs are the real supernatural powerhouses."

Gertie rolls her eyes, but her tusks poke out from her bottom lip as she fights a smile. "Valefor, we're not here to discuss my workout routine or the merits of progressive overload in the weight room," she adds with a knowing wink. I nod my head, wide-eyed, at her not-so-subtle tip.

She straightens, adjusting her thick black braid over her shoulder, and gestures to my file. My eyes narrow on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a typed-up report connecting my ‘falsified’ scholarship essay to the statue destruction. We’ve been waiting for something like this to happen since he was a kid.

"We're here to review your first month of probation," Dale says, cutting off my thought. She leans back in her seat, the chair groaning under her muscular frame, and assesses me with a hint of amusement in her dark eyes. "And despite those first few fines, it seems things are going rather well. The security footage caught quite an interesting scene between you and Dr. Sullivan today when she was dropping you off."

My stomach does a little flip. I rub my chin, trying to maintain my composure as I glance down at her desk. A photo catches my eye—Dale standing with a family of orcs, all wearing swimsuits, on a houseboat. The sight of their bright, smiling faces almost makes me forget my nervousness. Almost. "Ah, yes. What can I say? Marital bliss." The words, a mix of truth and deception, leave an odd aftertaste in my mouth.

She narrows her eyes, clearly not buying it entirely. "Uh-huh. Well, let's just say I've seen my fair share of interesting cases, but yours?" She shakes her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. "That's a twist we're still talking about in the breakroom."

She leans forward, resting her muscular arm on the desk. The wood creaks slightly under the pressure. "And off the record?" she says, in a low voice that makes me lean in closer. "I caught one of your interviews. You and Dr. Sullivan have great chemistry. She was so nervous, and I thought you were so sweet with her." She lets out a low whistle that reverberates in the cramped office. "Excuse me for the demonism, but you can't fake that kind of spark. She's good people, Valefor. You treat her right, you hear me?"

We’re just acting. The words dance on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. Not because I'm afraid I'll out myself—I mean, I wouldn't want that. But because it feels too close to a lie, and the thought of that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. "I will. You have my word," I say, my voice more somber than I intend.

Dale slides her paper across the desk. "Alright, you're free to go. Just sign here, and I'll see you next month."

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the pen. "That's it?"

She arches an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Unless there's something else on your mind?"

"Well, now that you mention it,” I lean forward, flashing her another dazzling smile. Dale keeps a straight face, but I notice the purplish blush coloring her green cheeks. Hook, line, and sinker. "I was wondering if you'd heard anything from my lawyers? About my movie premiere? You've seen the trailer, right?" I tilt my head, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes.

"I may have caught it between commercials." Her tone is noncommittal, but the glint of interest in her eye is unmistakable.

I lean even closer, almost touching her desk. I don't dare taste the air, not with Gertie so close, but I have a feeling she's warming up to my charm. How could she resist? If she's seen my movie trailer, then she'd know Khastor is irresistible.

"It would mean the world to me—and to Coco—if I could make it. This story, it's so personal, so close to home." I hesitate, really playing up the moment, before asking: "Is there any way we could work something out? Just for one day?" After a moment, I quickly add, almost stammering, "Coco's been dreaming of seeing me walk that red carpet."

She sighs, shaking her head reluctantly. The hope that had been building in my chest deflates. "Vale, you know the terms of your probation. That's not something I can change. You'd have to take it up with Judge Grimshaw." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "Why not have Coco talk to him? They're friends, right?"

No one is friends with Judge Grimjaw. The inside of my mouth sours at the mention of his name, bitterness coating my tongue. Once again, Judge Grimshaw stands between me and everything I've worked for. I force a smile as I push up from my seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'll do that. Thank you, Officer Dale."

My hand is on the doorknob when her voice stops me. "I just had an idea."

I whirl around, hope surging through me like wildfire. Did inspiration strike? Has she thought of a loophole?

"Marital bliss in Winter Bliss . . . That should be the name of your next movie!" She beams, clearly pleased with herself.

I stare at her, my mind blank, unable to process the words. "Wow," I finally manage, the word hollow. "Let me go call the director right now."

M y sour mood brightens when I spot Coco waiting at the end of the fluorescent-lighted hall. I speed up, eager to reach her, but she's too engrossed in conversation to notice me. That’s alright, it gives me a chance to admire the way her leggings hug her long legs and perky butt. Don’t get me wrong, Coco’s work attire has inspired enough sexy scientist fantasies to keep me entertained for the rest of my life, but I love seeing her dressed down as well.

Where's Mariah? Did Coco leave her at home? Probably waiting impatiently in the car, now that November's chill has set in, it’s safer to leave her inside the car.

I can't believe I'm worrying about that rat of a dog. But Coco's right, she does grow on you. Like a fungus.

My gut clenches when I recognize the tall, imposing figure speaking to Coco. Judge Grimshaw turns, his eyes locking onto mine. His mouth presses into a thin, dissatisfied line. I skid to a halt, my body tensing with an instinctive urge to flee like a frightened animal .

Then I notice the small dog in his arms. Mariah stares back at me, her bug eyes even wider than usual.

Without thinking, I rush forward. "Hey! Put her down! You can't arrest a dog—" The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Grimshaw doesn't flinch, but Mariah erupts into a frenzy of barking. It takes me a horrified moment to realize she's not barking at the judge. She's barking at me.

With a final yip, Mariah launches herself from Grimshaw's arms. I yell in panic, lunging to save her, but I’m too far away. Coco catches her, thank the goddess, clutching the trembling animal to her chest. Relief washes over me, quickly replaced by a pang of guilt. I didn't mean to scare her.

Grimshaw arches a brow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's an odd reaction from your own dog."

"Don't mind her. She just gets a bit overexcited. She'll bark at me if I so much as sneeze too loud," Coco says quickly.

I frown at Mariah's trembling body. Sorry, girl. I’ll take you on an extra-long walk tonight to make it up to you.

I turn to Grimshaw, trying to stand tall despite feeling like that scared kid again next to his imposing frame. We’re the same height now, so he shouldn’t intimidate me anymore—it must be that black judge’s robe he’s wearing. "You leave m-m-my dog alone," I say, failing to keep my voice steady.

"Vale—" Coco pleads, stepping between us.

"Your dog?" Grimshaw's voice is cool, calculated. He reaches out, scratching Mariah's head. She licks his fingers before burrowing into Coco's neck. "Remind me, how long have you had her?"

Coco angles her head away from Grimshaw, her mouth miming a silent word to me I can't read. I straighten my shoulders, grasping for an answer. "Uh, we got her right after we got m-m-married. Remember the day we picked her up from the shelter, sweetheart?” I turn to Coco, giving her a smile. Her wide, frightened eyes are anything but reassuring.

"Interesting." Grimshaw's gaze bores into me. "I could've sworn there was a different story. Didn't you say you've had Mariah since college?" He turns to Coco before fixing me with those dark eyes again. "Seems like an important detail to forget, Vale. Especially given how Mariah is so protective of Dr. Sullivan and wary of strangers. Memory can be a tricky thing, can't it?"

Every muscle in my body coils as tight as a strung bow. Heat floods my palms, the scent of smoke cutting through the musty office air. I clench my fists, desperately trying to contain the fire threatening to burst forth. Grimshaw's gaze never wavers, his orange irises flashing with something I can't read. His face remains calm. I know it’s stupid to pick a fight with him, especially right outside the courthouse, but I’d love nothing more than to punch that judgmental look off his face—

"Yeah, well, I guess you forget a lot when you're in love." Coco's voice breaks through the haze of my anger. She grabs a handful of my shirt and tugs me away, surprisingly strong for a human. "We should get going. See you later, Judge. Come on, sweetheart,” she adds with a final, annoyed grunt.

" T hat guy's got it out for me," I growl as I close the passenger seat behind me, shutting the door with more force than I intend. The car seat is still cold from the autumn air. I fumble with the seatbelt, my fingers clumsy with frustration, before giving up with a huff.

Coco is silent as she secures Mariah in her back seat, the sound of Mariah’s excited panting filling the tense quiet space. The scent of Coco's lavender air freshener, usually calming, now seems suffocatingly sweet.

Finally, Coco slides into the driver's seat. She doesn't start the car immediately. Instead, she sits motionless, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes a deep breath, then turns to face me. My tongue darts out, tasting the air. The spicy tang of Coco's anger hits me, and for a moment, relief eases my nerves. Good, she's upset at Grimshaw too —

"It’s clear that you feel that way, Vale," she says, her voice eerily calm, each word measured and controlled. It's the tone she uses with difficult patients, and it sets my teeth on edge. "But why are you so defensive around him?"

"I'm not defensive," I snap, then immediately wince at how, well, defensive that sounds. I force myself to take a deep breath, willing my voice to steady. "Why'd you let him hold Mariah in the first place?"

"Because he's my neighbor, and surprisingly, Mariah likes him. She jumped right into his lap at his office."

"I can't believe you—" I stop myself, rubbing my hand down my face. The thought of Coco in Grimshaw's space, with Mariah, makes my skin crawl. "I wouldn't trust him with her."

Her eyes narrow, and I get the feeling she's analyzing me like one of her patients. "I understand your concern, but he's been reliable. He checks on her when I'm at work, even bought her special low-cal treats because he knows she's on a diet."

I scoff at her comment, my mind racing. Judge Grimshaw did that? There's no way—then the reality of her statement hits me like a freight train. She lets him inside our place? How do we know he’s not snooping through our stuff?

"Look," her even voice cuts through my panicked thoughts, "I know you two have a complicated past. I'm not saying you're wrong to be cautious, but maybe there's more to him than you've seen?" She turns on the ignition and straightens forward, driving the car out of the parking lot.

I cross my arms and lean back in my seat, glaring at the cute fall decorations hanging from the streetlamps. "He's always trying to prove I'm a criminal. I'm not," I say, wishing I didn't sound like a sullen child.

"But you are a criminal," she says gently. "You destroyed public property, I understand why, but it's still illegal."

"He's always poking holes in our story."

Coco nods thoughtfully. "There are holes in our story, Vale. He’s not creating them. They’re already there. We're not actually married." The casual way she says it stings more than I care to admit. "Honestly, I think the judge knows the truth, but for some reason, instead of making a big deal out of it, he’s just needling you."

I scoff. "Please. Don't give him that much credit. Why is he always spying on us?" Every time I take Mariah out, no matter how early or late it is, Grimshaw is already there—working in his yard or watching me from the window.

"Honestly, I don't know. He did that long before you showed up. I think he might be lonely. Someone told me his wife died years ago, and he’s got no kids as far as I can tell. I'm not saying you should trust him, but maybe he's not the enemy you think he is?"

I stare blankly out the window, wishing Coco would stop trying to be neutral and just see my side. I wish she wasn’t so trusting; it must be a human thing. Who is going to protect her when I’m gone? "Maybe," I say reluctantly.

She glances at me from the corner of her eye, her pouty mouth deepening into a frown. "I get it, Vale. I do. Just don't cling too tightly to the past, okay?" Her hand moves from the steering wheel to the console, and she opens it to grab her ChapStick. I follow her movements with my eyes but freeze when I see a flash of silver hiding inside the cubby.

"What's this?" I reach for the item, but she stops me, slamming the console shut. Almost catching my fingers. Mariah starts barking at us from the backseat, startled by the loud slam.

"Nothing!" The car swerves as she adjusts her hand on the wheel. Someone passing us honks their car. "Forget you saw that."

My lips curl into a devious smile. "Are those handcuffs?"

"I said forget it!"

A s Coco drives, I pull out my phone, sending a message to the only people in Winter Bliss who know the truth about our fake marriage.

What do I need to do to prove to Judge Grimjaw that I’m married?

Iggy

Umm, get married. They'll give you proof, dummy. You can always get unmarried later. I think they have an express lane for that.

Rex

No, terrible idea. Bro, you’re an actor. Just act better.

Yeah, I don't need the hassle of actually being married, everyone in town believes me, except him. And trust me, Rex, the stuff I’m giving is Oscar-worthy. Not that I’d be able to accept my award, since I’m on probation. Things would be so much easier if I could just convince him.

Iggy

Well, whatever you do, don’t go blaze one of his precious park benches again. That went over so well last time.

Rex

Vale, how thin are your walls?

Iggy

No, Rex. Stop.

Yeah, Dude. I need real problem-solving ideas right now. Not carpentry advice. I don’t think the ‘structural integrity’ of Coco’s place is going to help me right now.

Iggy

That’s not the kind of show you put on for an old, hard-ass demon judge who's already looking for a reason to throw you in jail.

Show?

Rex

I beg to differ. You’re sleeping in his addition, right? How. Thin. Are. The. Walls.

Rex, I’m sorry for all the times I insulted your intelligence. You are the smartest demon that’s ever lived.