Chapter 1

The portalfrom Santanos's basement leads directly into his suite in the Palace of the Crescent Moon, where his parents live. Not sure why he has a portal into his old closet, if this room the size of a small house can be called a closet.

Oh wait, I just jumped right in, didn't I?

Ok, quick recap: I, Romily Butcher, fell hard for Arlington Fox, we adopted Bellamy Jones, saved some cherubs, Bellamy was abducted and tortured for a few hundred years, we adopted Edovard Folange (aka, Pupper), he mated Santanos, the Avatar of Evil and a prince of Hell, whereupon we learned my pupper is basically a snack for Santanos's parents, so we're here to kill them.

Edovard also decided to keep Santanos's bodyguards, Gregory and Hassan, so now we have seven people in the Foxily family. Well, and apparently we're counting Darcy Hellspinner as a distant cousin or something. (He's the tracker that Bellamy had a one-sided crush on, who's kinda unlikable but also kinda my people.)

Yep, those are the important plot points, I think. There are side characters we're keeping track of like a Luna wolf named Tala, a guy in my contacts nicknamed DB Cooper who stole Dakota's phone right out of his pocket while Dakota was talking to him (Dakota talks to a lot of people and has no idea when his phone went missing), and Edovard is keeping tabs on the assassin that Santanos hired to replace Bellamy, Gaanbatar Batbayar, because he thinks the man is supposed to be part of our family. I'm all for stealing another one of Santanos's assassins, so I'm just waiting for the opportunity.

Anything else I'm missing? If so, I'm blaming Gregory because he has a blamable face. If you need a reminder of who's who, there's a character sheet around here somewhere that you can reference. Check the TOC.

Anyway, back to why we're in Hell: Santanos thinks it's safest to not take any chances on his parents behaving, so here we are. In his closet. Where he has an abundance of clothes.

Oooh, I figured it out. He has a portal from his mansion on Earth to his closet in Hell so he has access to his wardrobe without having to move it into his house nor alert his parents of his presence every time he needs to grab a shirt. Obviously.

Hmmm. We're about the same size, I wonder…

Do you think Santanos would notice if some of his clothes made their way into my closet?

I send that text to my future husband, my eldest son, and begrudgingly include Darcy in the text thread. For an unfathomable reason, I keep ending up with this tiny Arkansan twink of Asian descent in my circle, and sometimes I think I might learn to like him, but then he opens his mouth, something crass comes out of it, and I remember why I keep him at arm's length. Well, in his case, it's at dick length, because he's got a flagpole between his legs; yes, I have seen it, and yes, it is impressive.

Darcy starts grabbing clothes and chucking them through the portal indiscriminately, cackling like a mad man. "We won't have time to grab them on the way out, so might as well collect them before we assassinate the queen and prince."

Actually, he's probably right, so I start picking out clothes too, tossing them through. My Fox, being the amazing man he is, also grabs some clothes and tosses them through the portal. His choices are sexier than mine, but that's to be expected; he likes decorating me.

Oh. That's right. I failed to mention the most important part of the recap.

Fox hasn't presented me with my huge diamond ring yet. Apparently something happened to it, and I haven't had the time, opportunity, or nerve to corner him and get the answer out of him. Bellamy knows, though.

Maybe I should focus my efforts on my son instead of my lover?

Food for thought.

When about half the hangers on the bar are empty, I snap my fingers and point to the door, satisfied with my haul. I don't have space for the amount of clothes we confiscated, but I can cull them when we close the portal after our daring escape from Hell. I assume it's going to be daring. I mean, it's about as likely as us walking home unimpeded. With a partner like Fox, life keeps me on my toes.

Fox finishes tossing a sheer something through the portal and comes to my side, sliding his arm around my shoulders and walking with me to the door. Bellamy joins us behind and Darcy skips ahead, cackling under his breath.

"I've been wanting to do this for years."

His comment doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular, but I glance at the man, curiously. In this world, age is literally just a number that can be as meaningless as a person's shoe size. I've seen a teenage cherub several hundred years old revert back to infancy. Darcy's desire to kill Lilith and Bacchus having a multi-year history is only surprising because he looks like he's about my age. Which is ridiculous to think since he and Bellamy have known each other for a decade, and I'm twenty-one… so unless Bellamy was hanging out with an eleven year old, Darcy is older than he looks.

How old are you?

I shoot that text into the group message, and everyone checks their brand new smart watches that we bought to free up their hands from having to hold their phones.

"A gentleman wouldn't ask, but since we're talking about you…" Darcy snarks, eliciting a warning growl from Fox.

Honestly, I'm not sure who would win in a fight between those two. Darcy's a one-punch man for violence when he's feeling merciful, and a volcano monster when he's feeling mean. Fox, on the other hand, is actually immortal and very, very good at killing people.

Have you ever died by a single punch or volcano monster magic?

Bellamy groans behind me. "Why? Why did you ask that? You realize now Oppa is going to make Darcy kill me."

I suppose it"s important to remind everyone that my son is newly immortal, but that only makes him immune to deaths he's already died. Fox is set on immunizing him from as many ways to die as possible as quickly as he can.

Darcy snorts. "He can't make me do anything. I won't kill you unless you ask, Red. What happens between us happens with enthusiastic consent or not at all."

"Would you prefer another fire-dancing hearth witch slash jinn kill him?" Fox asks, stopping Darcy at the bedroom door with a hand on it to prevent him from opening it.

Darcy glowers at him. "I prefer he stay alive and his ward active. Since he's had hundreds of years to recover from the nutmeg poisoning you let happen to him, and since I am almost certainly the only one of my kind, I'm content with risking it."

"That's not—" Bellamy interjects. "You know what, let's shelve this discussion forever or at least until we're not in the middle of a mission, shall we?"

I still want to know how old Darcy is.

Bellamy gestures at Darcy as if to say, "Just fucking tell him," but of course my proper child would never cuss like that.

The lies parents tell themselves, amiright?

Darcy rolls his eyes and knocks Fox's hand off the door. "I'm older than Fox, but not as old as his fathers, and I'm not sure where I fall between them. Can we go kill Lilith now?"

So basically old enough to really dig in with his grudges and ferment them like a dark lager.

(I'm trying something new with my descriptions. It might not take; it might be the best thing since the tech upgrade that lets me text my family on their smart watches—we're going to find out together.)

Fox pulls his sword out in response, Bellamy does the same, and Darcy opens the door. I follow them out into the hall. I'm not here to fight, nor am I announcing Fox's imminent arrival; I'm here purely as decoration. Window dressing, so to speak. I'm the pretty thing Fox gets to look at when he needs motivation to continue fighting. Plus I just love watching the man work, and I genuinely need to see the threat to Edovard dead.

Lately I've been unsettled, and I've recently realized it's because when I was homeless and living out of a backpack, I had very little to lose that I couldn't replace within a few days. Don't get me wrong, I got extremely attached to that backpack of things, but my survival instincts knew if I lost it, I wouldn't have lost much. Now, I have too many things that would destroy me to lose, and as a result I'm struggling with my emotional balance.

I've decided to embrace the need to see the people that matter to me safe. Hence accompanying Fox on a mission to kill the threats against Edovard before they make themselves a problem. I know my future husband will do whatever it takes to keep our family safe, because I witnessed the lengths he went to for Bellamy when a mysterious cult abducted him.

First, they paid a cherub to poison Belamy's magical bonds with nutmeg overdosing, then they put a contract out for him, and Tala the Luna wolf abducted him, then Jaime Gordon (one of the evil councilors on the council that runs the supernatural world) tortured him for no discernable reason other than he's evil, and then the cult nailed him to the ceiling of the prison for supernatural criminals for more unfathomable reasons.

We rescued him, of course, but during the course of finding him, Fox spent his one chance to make someone immortal to turn Bellamy immortal. That coin he spent was meant for his mate so that Fox would have a companion through eternity, and he spent it on our Bellamy. It's comforting to know the lengths he'll go for the people he loves.

Yes, yes, I'm his mate, and it was meant to be for me, but Fox assures me that we don't need a coin to turn me immortal; I'll be joining Team Immortal the same way his human father did. I don't know—it involves a family ritual, and they have to save up their power or something to do it. They're working on it.

We're still looking into the whole thing with Bellamy, but honestly there just aren't a lot of leads that we haven't already interrogated and killed. I figure we'll eventually meet those fuckers again, and this time we won't have to make a huge example of them before we get real answers.

Anyway, back to the current mission: kill the queen of Hell and her consort.

I don't know why I thought palaces should be quiet and cavernous, but my biases are clearly misinformed because this place is hopping. As we step out of Santanos' bedroom, we nearly run into a whole group of demons dressed in those ridiculous maid costumes that every Halloween store has in stock for anyone wanting to sex up their celebrations. The skirts are so short, I can see buttock, bush, and/or dick, depending on which demon I'm eyeing.

One lucky person has a generous endowment hanging between their legs on full display plus a buxom chest held up in a bustier that doesn't bother to cover their nipples. They're gorgeous enough that I really hope we don't have to kill them. It'd be such a waste of beauty.

"This is why working for a sex demon is an HR nightmare," Darcy snarks, waving at the housekeepers (??? For all I know this is how bodyguards dress in Hell). "Where's the queen? We have an appointment and we can't be late," he demands, spinning fire in his hands because threats of violence always work out so well.

One pretty demon with a bush but no breasts, points their tail down the hall. "She's holding court in the throne room. Why were you in the prince's bedroom?"

"Santanos asked us to find a shirt for him since we were coming anyway," Bellamy replies, holding up a shirt on a hanger that I didn't even realize he'd grabbed.

Well, I was distracted by the revelation of Darcy's age and recapping what happened to Bellamy, so I forgive myself for not noticing.

Darcy is waaay over thirty-six hundred years old. It's hard to look at that tiny man and think "older than Fox." That'll take some getting used to. Omigod, why does he sound like he's from the Ozarks? Does he just affect that accent or is he somehow responsible for it? I can totally see Darcy doing that for shits and giggles—making up an entire regional accent.

The demon eyes the shirt, shrugs, and the group continues on down the hall opposite the way we're headed. That's not a hole in palace security. Not at all.

With Darcy basically dancing ahead of us, we make our way through the palace, stopping twice to ask for directions before we finally make it to the throne room.

Lilith sits draped over the throne in a pose meant to seduce her onlookers. It reminds me of the first time I met Santanos, so now we know where he gets his flair for the dramatic. She's also nude, just like Santanos was, with three men (one of whom is Bacchus, the prince of Hell slash queen's consort we're here to kill) who have huge erections attending her. Somehow I'm not surprised that she has to have an extra body; she seems like the type to want to show up her own son.

The supplicant on their knees before the throne looks about two seconds away from either an assassination attempt or running away. It's hard to tell with the demon eyes, but I don't have the chance to figure it out because our entrance causes a wave of awareness that results in a V formation of people getting out of our way, opening up a path straight to the throne.

Lilith notices us when the sea of people parts enough to pull her attention to us, and she arches her manicured brow at us. "Why are you here?" she questions curiously, glancing behind us. "Did my son change his mind about mating with that snack?"

I step forward and wave at everyone to get their attention. I point to the three men with swords that no one was worried about while we sauntered through this palace. I make the universal death by beheading sign with a crrrrrk sound that's as good an approximation as I can make, pointing to Lilith and Bacchus one after the other.

For a disappointingly long minute, everyone just looks at me like they have no idea what I could possibly mean. Bellamy sighs loudly, lifts his sword, and crrrrks off some poor demon guard's head.

The throne room takes a shocked breath and erupts in chaos. I let it flow around me, relying on my personal ward to keep the crowd and the fight from injuring me. I turn my eyes to our two targets, keeping them in sight. Darcy does that thing where he one-punches anything in his way, and he and Fox work together to clear a path to their targets while Bellamy guards their backs against anyone smart enough to stay away from Darcy's fists and Fox's blade.

Lilith and Bacchus stand there, arrogantly watching the fray as if they can't imagine a world in which an assassination attempt would actually work. They're allegedly ten thousand plus years old. Obviously we couldn't possibly succeed where thousands of others have failed.

If I could scoff, I would. Instead, I smile wide and toothy and follow my boys straight to the throne. It's only when Darcy and Fox clear the close guards and their bodyguards start indicating that maybe it's time for a strategic retreat that Lilith and Bacchus start looking a little worried. Unfortunately, by the time they realize that we significantly outmatch their entire royal guard, it's too late for them.

Darcy knocks the last of their guard away, and Fox goes straight for the queen. She materializes a sword and armor—of course she does; the fight would be boring if she couldn't defend herself; no one here is surprised the naked demon has a few tricks up her metaphorical sleeve.

When her sword clashes with Fox's, sparks fly. Why, you ask? Because friction, and that's all I know about the subject. To be honest, I'm a little surprised by the sparks myself. Maybe Lilith's weapon is subpar and has flint in it? Who knows?

Fox moves supernaturally fast, matching Lilith's energy and keeping her on the defense, I assume. I know almost nothing about sword fights, but based on the backward steps she's taking, I'm assuming Fox is winning. It's hot, and I not-even-a-little-subtly rub my hand over my cock.

What? Fox is the sexiest when he's drenched in blood and on a killing spree. Well, maybe he's the sexiest after he's showered all the blood off—Fox riding my cock after a bloody fight is an image that will live in my head for the rest of my immortal life.

While Fox revs my libido into overdrive, Darcy leans over Lilith's consort, very clearly winning against Bacchus. The fire-dancing hearth witch cum jinn slash nightmarish volcano monster holds the prince's neck in one hand while he shoves fireball after fireball down the demon's throat. Bacchus's struggles weaken with each fireball, and then Darcy kisses his victim (eww), sucking all the life out of him (impressive and terrifying). Bacchus collapses, Darcy takes a step back with a smug grin, and the collapsing continues. Bacchus' face crumbles to ash first followed by the rest of him. It looks like he desiccates and crumbles to dust in a few seconds.

Lilith's scream pulls my attention away from the gruesome sight just in time to see Fox lose an arm to her sword at the same time he takes her head with his other arm. My stomach roils at the sight of Fox's blood spurting out of the end of his severed arm. Once Lilith falls, I take two steps toward my future husband, but I stop when he picks up his arm (which is covered in blood that isn't just his, by the way) and holds the severed ends together.

Hurk.

I know Fox isn't prone to blood borne illnesses, but still, it's gross.

His eyes find mine, and I shake my head at him, miming myself vomiting.

He rolls his eyes, then flips me off with the previously unattached arm's finger. It's impressive how quickly his body takes back control of the limb. I suggest that he might enjoy finding a better use of that finger by making a circle of my thumb and forefinger and thrusting my middle finger through it a few times. I make sure to lasciviously wag my eyebrows a couple of times to really get the meaning across.

Darcy jumps onto the throne, interrupting my flirting, and whistles louder than necessary. "Hey fuckers! Your queen and her consort are dead because they threatened the life of one of the Foxilys. Tell your next monarch not to fuck with Romily Butcher's sons, and we won't have to come back."

Someone bumps my back, startling the fuck out of me, but then I take a deep breath, remind myself that it can only be Bellamy, and check; it's my son, standing back to back with me, with a pile of dead demons at his feet.

Darcy jumps off the throne and starts toward the exit. "Time to go," he announces, as all the leftover demons jump back with a mixture of fear and shock.

Bellamy follows him, and I turn to follow my son, knowing Fox will cover our retreat, even with a weakened arm. No, wait. You know what? I have a personal shield against attacks because I'm a Harbinger, so Fox is going to walk in front of me so that I can make sure no one stabs him in the back.

I hop around him and push him forward, attaching myself to the belt hanging off his hips as I push him to follow the tiny Asian dude back to Santanos's closet.

Edovard is safe now, and that's what fucking matters.