27. Ben

27

BEN

I’ve been attempting to ignore the memory of what it feels like to be inside of Stella with Stoneheart’s hard body pressed against mine all day, avoiding the hot shame of teleporting from that moment on the piano to the bed they share, hungry for the flavor of them before breaking.

It’s distracting to wonder if Stoneheart noticed that the bedding had been changed, had any clue why. Hopefully he wouldn’t guess that I went straight from the conservatory to fucking their sheets, mouthing the fabric pathetically in search of their mix of scents.

The memory throbs inside me so clearly, I could find Stoneheart with my eyes closed and feel Stella just as clearly.

They both devastate me.

Something I’d have to ponder on if I weren’t so blessedly busy trying to entertain two kids.

“Do you want something to eat? To watch?” I ask. “I think there’s a theater room somewhere in here.”

The girl, Celeste, shrugs. Timothy had been cheerful with the guard, but now seems unsure of his surroundings and clings to his sister’s leg. The expression on his face hurts my heart, but I focus on what I’m good at, providing solutions.

It takes some creativity, but sometime later we’re settled enough. Celeste helps Timothy wash up and the front desk sends up new clothing for them.

Somehow, Silas procures a coloring page and pencils before disappearing to make calls to figure out what we’re going to do with two kids. The mystery of how quickly he had these items on hand is solved when I look over Timothy’s shoulder at the design as he focuses on staying in the lines of the giant exclamation point. When I’d glanced up at Silas before he left, he’d shrugged and muttered, “Francesca.”

I wouldn’t have assumed the cat shifter enjoyed coloring books, but I’m grateful.

Since Timothy can’t read yet, he doesn’t know he’s coloring in a giant bubble lettered “Have a fucking great day!”

The coloring page pulls a tiny smile from Celeste, so I’m counting it as a win even though she denied any form of entertainment we offered her, preferring to watch her brother color. Or maybe unwilling to allow him out of her sight.

“Don’t you need to ask us what happened?” she whispers, her blonde brows furrowing before her eyes flare. “Or have you guys given up trying to find our moms?”

“We don’t want to pressure you.” I nod toward Timothy at the coffee table who hums as he colors. He’s not paying attention to our conversation and that makes this easier. “You and your brother have been through a lot. Are you okay talking about it?”

“Are they going to find them?” Her words are shaky as she ignores my question.

I sit back. Even though we are champing at the bit to gain as much information as we possibly can, I refuse to push her past what she’s comfortable talking about. This is something that must be done at their pace.

“Stoneheart is working on it,” I say. I may be wary of the gargoyle, but I have every confidence that he is devoted to protecting the people in his territory. Even if it involves traveling to the fae plane, an option that makes me itchy with how risky that would be for him.

She doesn’t look at all assured, and it hurts that I know the real concern in her question. Are her mothers even still alive?

I clear my throat and recall what I know about sirin. “Your kind are prized for your singing ability. There’s a good chance he’ll find them.”

Celeste blinks a couple of times before she nods. “Okay.”

“I want Dad,” Timothy interjects, staring at the end of his colored pencil. His lower lip trembles.

“Dad is away,” Celeste says, sounding tired.

I blink. “You guys have a dad?”

The teenager gives me a droll look. “That is how babies are made.”

I whip my phone out to message Silas. There had been no mention of a father figure. Sirin, like harpies, are only female. They select breeding partners outside of their kind with the girl children taking after their mother and the boy children, the selected male.

Harpies culturally don’t include the fathers in their family structures, but sirins are such a small population that I don’t know what their tradition is. Since there were only the two mothers on the lease, we’d been assuming the father was out of the picture.

“What is his name? We can contact him,” I say.

Celeste looks cautiously optimistic. “His name is Torin Black, but you probably won’t be able to get ahold of him.”

I move to start messaging contacts, not wanting to disappoint her.

“I’ll summon him,” Timothy proudly announces.

“It won’t work.” Celeste tries to explain as she rolls her eyes. “Our dad is a demon. Like you. He travels to the demon plane for work. He’s not supposed to be back for another couple of weeks and anyway, Timmy’s too young to summon.”

“Am not!” Timmy frowns hard like he’s concentrating. The air wavers for a moment, but nothing happens. I roll my shoulders. The boy is still too young to tap into much power, I hadn’t identified him as a demon until his attempt, but there was a fire associated with the energy that has me mentally sorting through the various contacts I have on the demon plane.

Celeste’s shoulders drop in disappointment. “See.”

I open my mouth to reassure Celeste, but Timmy pulls a piece of jewelry from his jeans pocket and holds it up proudly. I freeze.

“I’m old enough to get this, aren’t I?” he says.

“What is that?” I ask, measured even though excitement sparks at the intricate design.

“The group who came in the night each had one around their neck,” Celeste says with a shrug. “He must have grabbed it before they locked us up.”

The spark turns into a flame. That looks like a charm, and I happen to know a witch who would be very interested in seeing it. If it’s something that can affect wards, this might be exactly what Stella needs to make a counter charm.

“May I have that?” I ask Timmy who frowns at first so I continue, “It would help us find out about the people who took you and keep other people in the territory safe.”

Timmy thinks hard for a moment before handing over the item. “I want to help.”

“Thank you,” I say, suddenly humbled. The kid just was rescued from a cage and still has the room to be generous.

“I want to help too,” Celeste says softly, her shoulder’s stiffening as she straightens.

I nod, sensing that she’s ready to talk. “How many intruders would you say there were?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe six?” Her brows crease but her eyes have the same sort of pride that Timmy’s do even if there are shadows. I try to keep my questions short, not wanting to frustrate her if she can’t answer specifics.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Her breathing increases, and I’m humbled all over again when she pushes through the panic and starts talking. “We were watching movies and Mama B got up to get more popcorn since we were about halfway through.” Another deep breath, and she swallows. “It happened so fast. The door flew open, and all these people wearing black were there. They slapped a null collar on Mom first. I screamed.”

Celeste’s eyes are wide in question. All her flashing anger and caution are lost to the innocence on her face. “I screamed so loud, but no one came.”

I unclench my jaw and breathe through the rage. “They may have treated the area with a spell that muffled the noise.”

It’s something I have to believe. Otherwise, the concept that she would cry out and not be helped by any of her neighbors makes me want to raze this territory to the ground and walk away.

Celeste bites her lips and accepts my answer easily enough, falling back into silence. If she were an adult, I’d push to get more. I’d ask specifics about what the group was wearing, how they were moving, when they separated her mothers from her and Timmy, but she’s not an adult. She’s barely a teenager.

Stoneheart is right to not want to need their intel. Children should be protected, and it’s not worth interrogating them if he can get more information from elsewhere.

“Did anything seem unusual to you, other than that piece they wore?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “They covered their faces. Dumb and Dumber removed their masks later, but they didn’t talk about much that made sense except something about how the Devil would get his due.”

Stella leans against my shoulder, napping, when I finally get in touch with the demon father of the kids. She’d come home frustrated and exhausted from her attempts at charm making, but still determined to help the kids feel at home. I’d had her make popcorn, and we’d put on some animated classic.

Celeste had been hesitant, but her and Timmy relaxed to the bright colors and music, and a part of my chest warmed at the idea of at least trying to rewrite this experience so it wouldn’t blend in with that terrible night.

“Your dad is on his way,” I whisper.

Celeste perks up immediately. “Really?”

Her expression of excitement makes my heart all fuzzy.

“Yeah,” I say. “A friend of a friend was able to get in touch with him and tell him what happened. He should actually be here in a few minutes.”

Celeste smiles and moves to poke Timmy but huffs a laugh at his sleeping form. The kid really has been through it.

She turns back to me. “Thank you. For being honest about if they’ll find our moms.”

I frown. “Of course.”

“Some people think that just because we’re kids, we don’t understand, so they don’t even bother trying to explain.”

I swallow. I know she understands too much about the danger of our world. I was only a little younger than her when Kalos took me in. Maybe it’s why I feel so protective over these two.

On my deep breath in, Stella wakes with a mumble. I kiss her forehead in thoughtless affection, before remembering that I shouldn’t be doing something like that in front of others, but the kids aren’t paying attention to me. A voice calls through the penthouse.

“Celeste? Timmy?”

Timmy startles awake. “Dad?”

Celeste pulls him up with her. “Dad!”

They run out of the room. Their excitement has something warm catching in my throat.

“Good news I’m guessing,” Stella says, blinking sleepily.

“We were able to find their dad.”

She focuses on me. “You were able to find their dad. Good job, Ben.”

“They’ve been through enough. I didn’t want to force them to stay with strangers.”

“You’re good with them. Kids.”

I shrug, uncomfortable. “Maybe I can just relate to wanting the world to make sense.”

“And for good to triumph over evil.”

My lips twitch. “Everyone wants that. Unless the Devil is involved. Then we would definitely want him to win.”

I pull her to her feet. “I want to make sure they’re taken care of.”

We find Silas and the happy family in the penthouse entryway.

Torin Black looks exactly as a demon should—human. We are beings of energy and especially for those born on this plane, the human form is what is common. He’s a mountain of a man and probably terrifying if he weren’t on his knees clutching his children as if they may disappear.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, kissing their hair. “I was so worried when I heard.”

My throat swells at the scene.

“Do you have any word on their mothers?” he asks.

“They were taken though a fae gate, but we have a team looking for your mates,” Silas says.

Torin shakes his head. “We aren’t mates, but they’re my friends. Carrie and Beth are in a relationship together. I was just supposed to be a sperm donor.” He looks down at his kids, who obviously know this story, with chagrin. “But I got a little attached without meaning to. Thankfully Carrie and Beth don’t mind.”

“Demons bond naturally,” Tim recites.

Torin nods, swinging his son’s arm. “That we do, buddy.”

I blink at the reminder. I almost never spend time around demons, and it can be easy to forget that part of our natures. I’ve never been a concern since I haven’t created any organic bonds before.

“You’re a co-parent?” I ask, not wanting to dwell on thoughts of bonds.

“As often as their mothers and work will allow me to be,” Torin answers. “I have the paperwork to prove it if you need. I want to get these two home.”

“Where’s home?” I ask while Silas nods for the papers. There’s a strange tightness in my throat at the idea of the kids leaving. It’s silly. Of course he’s going to take them home. That’s the whole reason we contacted him.

“I keep an apartment in this territory where we stay when I get time with them,” he explains. There’s stress to his mouth like he’s worried we won’t let him claim his children.

“Will you allow a guard to go with you?” Silas asks.

Torin lets the question sink in before nodding. He understands the unspoken reasons. None of us want to state the risk in front of the kids that whoever was responsible for their abduction could target them again if they think the kids saw something incriminating.

“I’d welcome extra eyes from the Devil,” Torin says.

Silas nods. “Very good.”

It feels like no time passes at all before Torin leaves and takes the kids with him. I wave, morose that I may never see them again.

“Have a fucking great day!” Timmy calls back, and I wince.