Chapter 22

22

We’re in a courtyard where a massacre recently happened. The bodies haven’t been claimed by their loved ones yet. It looks really fresh, so maybe word of the murders hasn’t gone out yet. We can probably take the time to inform the authorities, if Hell has them, then people can come claim their friends and family.

“What happened?” Romily asks through Bellamy this time.

Darcy smiles at us all and points to me. “My dragon dug up from the dungeon,”—he points to a hole in the middle of the courtyard—“and killed everyone standing between him and me. It was glorious to watch.”

The possessive statement is one of the reasons the lines are blurring for me, and fuck if I don’t love hearing it.

That’s future Elijah’s problem, so I turn my attention to the massacre that I apparently committed, and I have to admit, the torn in half bodies, charred remains, and pulverized mounds of what I assume used to be demons are pretty impressive for someone who can’t even shift to his dragon form on demand. I’m almost sad I don’t remember this.

Darcy points to a little crater in the stone with the pulpy remains of a body in it in front of a gallows where eight different bodies hang in various states of decay. “That’s Adam. He’s the fucker that kidnapped us.”

Adam is the victim of pressure. He looks like he was squeezed to death. His head is fully intact, so I guess I just squished his body, but the head being intact doesn’t mean he didn’t bleed from every orifice before he died. It doesn't look like a good way to go.

“A Hell dragon? We have two in the family now,” Romily says through Bellamy again.

Bellamy sighs, and I’m beginning to get the impression he might be a drama llama. “I don’t think Hassan will consider himself a Foxily until Gregory does.”

Romily smiles brightly, types on his phone, and sends it. Everyone’s phones go off at once, and they all look at the message, but no one says anything. So I peer over Darcy’s shoulder, reading the message he received.

Butcher: Gregory, what do you want your name to be when we change our names to Foxily?

As I read that, the next message comes in.

Kellman: I never change my first name.

Butcher: So you’re going to be Gregory Foxily. Don’t you think two Ys will be awkward to say.

Kellman: What do you care? It’s not like you have to say it.

Butcher: Wow. Mute jokes are only funny when I make them.

Fox: And when I make them.

Kellman: I don’t believe you’d ever make a joke at the expense of your annoyance.

Fox: Watch it.

Duran: Gregory please don’t make fun of people with disables period. No disables period send no wait disable utility period

Kellman: If anyone says a fucking word about anyone’s disabilities, I will make sure they know what it feels like to be eviscerated.

Butcher: Are human intestines useful for sausage making?

Fox: Yes.

Duran: Why are we talking about sausage now question mark send Hassan

“Who are these people?” I whisper to Darcy.

He points to each name in turn. “Romily, Gregory, Fox, Edovard. Edovard is their adopted son, the one they call Pupper and Santanos’s mate, and Gregory and Hassan are their boyfriends.”

“Poly rep. Nice. Love your found family.”

The corners of Darcy’s lips turn up and he whispers almost silently. “Yeah, Bellamy found our tribe.”

Bellamy found their tribe? I glance at the dramatic ginger with the proper southern accent and catch his eye. His brow furrows with concern, and he checks his beard like maybe he has a crumb in it or something. “What?”

I side-step over to him. “I’m glad you found the right family for you and Darcy to join. They seem like good people, and I like that they’re welcoming to everyone without judgment.”

Bellamy snickers at that. “Oh, we judge, make no mistake. We just reserve it for the people we’re fixing to kill.”

“I’m glad I didn’t end up on that list.” I pat his shoulder and then decide maybe he’d like a hug instead and open my arms for that.

Bellamy pauses for a moment, and chuckling, he wraps his arms around me tightly like I really do belong in his family. I bet my mom would hug him just as tight. I better make sure I bring the new family out to meet the OG family.

“You’re a good man,” I tell him. “Well, maybe a bit gray around the edges, but I think that just makes the way you shine on the inside all the brighter.”

Bellamy pulls away from the hug with a curious look. “Gray around the edges?”

I wave to the outline of where I think his aura would be if those things existed. “You know, morally gray in that you like killing people, but you only do it for the right reason, so you’re good. Plus you’re the Avatar of Good, so I assume you have to at least align with the moral philosophy of your aspect.”

Bellamy thinks about it. “Until last spring, I worked for Santanos, and I enjoyed my job. I didn’t like Santanos that well, but very few people like their bosses.”

“Switching sides like that takes some guts,” I congratulate him. “I’m not sure I would have done it.” I also don’t think I would take a job working for evil. Well, maybe. I might take a job working for evil if the pay was good and the benefits are worth the compromise. I don’t need my life to be squeaky clean, but I also don't think I’d ever be ok going around killing innocent people because it’s my job.

Bellamy’s smile is soft and affectionate as he looks over at Romily. “It didn’t take anything at all. Romily made it easy.”

“He’s the lynchpin of your family, right? Pull him out and the whole thing would unravel. I'm glad he’s safe from attack because of his ward.” It would be sad to see the family unravel if they lost him.

Romily looks over at me with wide eyes like he heard our conversation. We weren’t trying to be quiet, but he looked busy with his text conversation so I assumed he’d ignore us.

Bellamy gives him a sour expression. “I still hate it when you call me a kid.”

Romily smiles brightly, steps over to us, kisses Bellamy’s forehead, and wipes some schmutz off his face. I’m pretty sure the schmutz is just freckling, but Bellamy sighs like he’s annoyed, pulls away, and turns around, walking away.

Romily links his arm with mine, watching after his kid like a proud parent. I’m pretty sure Bellamy is at least fifteen years older than him, but this here is why I’m really going to like being an honorary Foxily.

No one gets murdered as Darcy leads us to a backpack with my phone and other effects in it and my prosthesis tossed on the floor next to it. There are demons around, but absolutely no one bothers us as we walk through a throne room to the throne and grab my stuff. The implant looks how I think it should, which is cool, but I don’t know how useful it will be now. Did my bone heal or is it stripped on the inside where the threads of the implant were yanked out of it? It’s a huge bolt, and it was screwed into my bone. I don’t know if it can be reintegrated. I'll have to get an x-ray and then another surgery if it’s even possible. I don’t even know if they can reuse this one or if I just have to buy another. I know my MawMaw would be happy to do it, but she shouldn’t have to, you know?

“Are you guys going to kill all of our leaders?”

As a group, we turn toward the voice. They’re a demon with no significant gender markers wearing an Assassin’s Creed cosplay with the hood and mask. Their eyes flame out like they have fire instead of melanin in their irises.

“If your leaders would stop attacking our family, we wouldn’t have to put ‘em down,” Darcy declares, the defiance in his voice daring this person to make the same mistakes their dead leaders keep making.

Fox steps up to Darcy, then Bellamy joins them, and for some reason the entire crowd in the throne room takes a collective step back. Bellamy speaks, projecting his voice to the back of the room. “Let me make this as clear as possible, my friends. The Foxily family is off limits to everyone unless you want to die. I won't help you, Santanos won’t stop you, and neither will the new Avatar of Neutrality, because he wants to kill you. Darcy, Santanos, and I are all Foxilys. You fuck with one of us, you’re fucking with all of us. Adam died because he kidnapped Darcy and a Hell dragon. You want to die? Go ahead and fuck with us. Otherwise, we will let you live in peace as long as you aren’t tipping the scales out of balance. Any questions?”

Reality splits open, and a huge Asian guys steps through the portal followed by a smallish blond guy wearing a club shirt and tight pants. Behind him huge body-builder type man comes through, and with him is a tiny guy with blond hair who looks like an angel, one of the cute ones. Not gonna lie, his grumpy face is darling.

Bellamy gestures to the blond. “So now you have all the Avatars here in one place to tell you to stop fucking with the Foxilys.”

Santanos, I assume, turns and eyes all the people in the throne room. “I am currently the only heir with legitimate claim to this throne since my parents death and Adam’s murder of my brothers. I will be ruling from Earth, but I assure you, I will take the position as king seriously. We will be overhauling the current governmental system and bringing it up to date. Monarchies are ridiculously outdated, and while I understand that I will be making my own position more ceremonial than political, giving the people the power to choose who represents them is a better option. And to reiterate: anyone, absolutely anyone , who fucks with the Foxilys is fucking with me, and I will have no mercy. Any questions?”

The cosplayer who addressed us first steps forward again. “Who will represent you here while you’re doing this major government overhaul, and what kind of government are you planning to give us?”

Santanos grins. “The most evil government I can think of.”

The big bodybuilder guy steps in close to Santanos. “You’re not going to be the Avatar of Evil forever. You probably shouldn’t make a government you’re going to hate when you’re not evil any more.”

Santanos kisses his cheek and takes his hand, threading their fingers together. “You are right, of course, my love. I’ll figure something out.”

The guy nods once, and turns to the rest of our group with a nice smile. He’s probably Edovard, the one they call Pupper. He has golden retriever energy all over him. “Hassan wanted to make sure everything was alright,” he explains.

The Asian man glances at us, but then turns his attention forward where Santanos is talking to some of the demons who still have questions.

Romily hugs Edovard, and Fox speaks, pointing to his partner. “Hello, Pupper. I’m so happy to see you. Is this your first time in Hell?”

Edovard hugs Romily back. “No, Papa. I’ve been here a couple of times with Santanos and Hassan. Sometimes he comes here to shift, and he brings me because I like watching him dance.”

Hassan’s cheeks are pinker than they were before when I look at him.

“You’re the other Hell dragon.” I wonder if he’d show me his dragon form so I have an idea of what mine looks like.

Hassan glances over at me, but the little guy—Gregory, I assume—steps so that he’s between me and Hassan. “He’s my dragon, and no you can’t see him. He’s not shifting anywhere near another dragon, so you can fuck off back to whatever spire you crawled out from.”

“This is Elijah—” Fox starts, but Darcy cuts him off, jumping between me and Gregory with his arm bleeding and his knife pointed at Gregory.

“Do not start your shit with Elijah. I will happily eviscerate you and your dragon and use your intestines for sausage”—Is it poetic using someone else’s words against them? Or lazy?—”that I will feed to the little gargoyles as a thank you for all their hard work. I will reduce you to a Scooby snack if you so much as breathe wrong in Elijah’s general vicinity.”

That’s a lot of trauma talking.

I reach over and slide my fingers between his. The blood from his arm seeps between us as I bring his hand up to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “Thank you for wanting to protect me,” I say between gentle kisses.

He blinks up at me, fiery almond eyes refocusing on me through his anger. The tension goes out and he huffs, laughing. “Yer right, Peach. You can protect yerself.”

I let him pull me into a kiss and surrender to his need for affection. When he pulls back all the aggression that made him snap at Gregory is gone. When I look back at the little blond dude, he’s in Edovard’s arms, and the big guy is rhythmically patting his butt. “Nothing better than butt pats to improve someone’s mood, right?” I comment to Edovard.

Edovard smiles like the morning sun, nodding. “That’s the same thing I say.”

I hold out my fist and he knuckle-bumps it. Yeah, these are totally my people.