Chapter 2

Me:Lilith and Bacchus are dead.

DB Cooper: I didn't realize they were killable.

Me: Turns out the rumors of their immortality were merely rumors.

DB Cooper: I guess I will avoid Hell for a few years until the new ruler establishes themselves, whoever they turn out to be. Did you know that Hell has been a monarchy and authoritarian regime since before humans started writing their stories on cave walls? I learned that recently.

Me: Where did you learn that? Is there an internet for supernaturals?

DB Cooper: Oh, I took my brother to the Museum of Supernatural History and Planetarium. You should check it out. The Favorite Foods Across the Realms section is both fun and delicious!

"I didn't know the Planetarium had food service," Bellamy comments, reading over my shoulder.

My family has no boundaries and often assumes I'm typing to them when I have my head in my phone. They're usually correct, obviously, but he's risking his eyeballs eavesdropping. Well, whatever the texting equivalent to eavesdropping is.

I could have been sexting Fox.

Bellamy shifts away when I pull up the text thread that is only for Fox. The first text in it is a dick pic. I love Fox's dick, and he always sends me something to look at when I have to go ahead of him to announce his immediate arrival. The life of a harbinger is so hard.

Speaking of…

My phone lights up and buzzes with a text from All That Is Wrong With The World aka The Depot, announcing the deaths of Lilith and Bacchus, because they were important enough to require a general announcement to the world. Also, I get a notification from my bank that informs me of a new deposit. Considering I haven't worked today, that's an unexpected message.

"Fuck yeah! All the bounties on those fuckers just paid out!" Darcy announces as he and Fox sort through the clothes we stole from Santanos. They're creating Keep-Maybe-No piles for me. I don't know why Darcy is sorting; he's not really the type, you know? It's the goth punk aesthetic; he just doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd be all that interested in fashion for the sake of fashion.

Fashion for the sake of petty revenge, however… that's definitely more his style and probably where we're at right now.

"How much was it?" Bellamy asks, taking a shirt Darcy put in the No pile and transferring it to the Keep pile.

I show him a number that means I could stop working for several hundred years if I lived on a modest budget. I didn't even do any of the actual work and I still got paid a portion.

"There were five active contracts and forty five archived contracts. We got the deposits on all the archived ones and the full payout on all the active ones," Darcy adds, straightening after he finishes sorting through the clothes.

Bellamy immediately sorts through the No pile and moves a few things to the Maybe pile and one back to the Keep pile. "I think I'm going to take a vacation."

"You want to hit up the Planetarium?" Darcy suggests, wiping his hands on his ripped black jeans.

Bellamy glances toward me. "We could," he replies, and I narrow my eyes at him.

I know he doesn't have a thing for Darcy anymore, but there's always a chance of relapse with these kinds of things, and I am not going to put up with that.

Maybe we should take a family vacation. I bet Edovard would love to try all the foods.

"You want to take Edovard, the Avatar of Evil, a Hell dragon, and an evil gnome to the Museum of Supernatural History?" Darcy scoffs, pulling something out of the No pile and putting it in the Keep pile.

Bellamy shoots him a glare and moves the item back. I think it's a see-through club shirt. "Who's a Hell dragon?" he questions, staring at Darcy as he holds the No-shirt on the pile.

Darcy tugs the shirt out of Bellamy's hand, answering placidly. "Hassan."

Bellamy jerks the shirt out of Darcy's hand and lifts it up, pointing to a suspicious stain on the mesh. Darcy snorts, releases the shirt, and lets Bellamy put it in the No pile.

Satisfied, Bellamy starts picking up pieces from the Maybe pile and holding them up for me to yea or nay with my thumb. "How do you know that?" he asks Darcy. "I worked with him for years and absolutely no one said anything about him being anything other than human."

I thumbs-up a shirt that looks alright, and Bellamy puts it in the No pile as Darcy replies, "I'm a fire dancer and a jinn; I can smell power running through the veins if I'm in the same room as someone. Hassan is a Hell dragon, and he's from one of the original families. He's not a purebred; one of his ancestors got a little frisky with a demon, but that's been all but bred out of him. Only a witch like me or an actual DNA analysis would pick up on it."

Bellamy puts a shirt I reject into the Keep pile.

When I thumbs up another shirt, he puts it in the No pile.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. I don't believe for a second that this is some kind of miscommunication. He's deliberately rejecting my keepers.

Bellamy smiles pleasantly at me and holds up a pair of pink sweat pants with the word "Juicy" on the butt. I wouldn't wear them out in public, but they do look comfy enough to lounge around in.

I thumbs them down, and Bellamy barely manages to hide his grimace as he puts them in the Keep pile.

Gotcha, fucker.

"Why are we letting Edovard run around with a Hell dragon?" Bellamy asks, looking straight at me as I thumbs up an ugly, collar shirt with camel print that's been bedazzled with two inch vertical stripes of rainbow rhinestones.

Why does Santanos have such a weird shirt?

Bellamy turns it around and the back reads "Twink-le Camel Toes" on it.

I tilt my head to the side and thumbs it down, curious about what the hell Santanos is doing with it. I need it now. I need Santanos to see me wearing it (although I definitely want him to see me wearing all of the clothes we're stealing—ah, redistributing).

Bellamy starts moving it to the No pile, and I snatch it up, hugging it close to my chest as I type a quick message.

You aren't stealing this from me. I'm keeping it forever. It was practically made for me.

Bellamy looks aghast, and moves in close enough to reach out to try to steal the shirt from me. "It most certainly was not!"

Fox joins us, standing between us, and tugs the shirt out of my embrace, holding it up to examine. His face barely twitches with what would be an epic smile if he allowed himself that in mixed company (Fox doesn't trust Darcy enough with his private expressions). Instead of saying anything, he tosses the shirt straight into the Keep pile and stares at Bellamy as if challenging him to object.

Bellamy looks like I just handed him a box of Grape Nuts and told him he has to eat the whole thing before he can have ice cream, and I spring into Fox's arms, rewarding my future husband with a passionate kiss.

Dammit.

I need to get this enthusiasm for Fox curbed because getting blood out of my beautiful suits is expensive, and my tailor yells at me every time. You'd think he'd give up on lecturing me by now, but keeping my hands off Fox when he's being a good boyfriend is impossible. I believe in positive reinforcement for behavior that lets me live the life to which I wish to become accustomed.

Instead of focusing on the lecture coming my way when I drop my suit off, I give Fox my full attention until Darcy's deep voice pulls me out of a haze of lust. "I could probably get off from watching this, but I'd rather be buried deep in someone's ass while I do."

The suggestive leer in his voice breaks the moment with Fox for both of us, and we turn together, me with a sour look and Fox emanating an aura of violence. I point to Darcy and narrow my eyes in warning. We've talked about him not propositioning Bellamy—we have a blood oath between us that prevents him from offering to fuck Bellamy—and even though I trust my son, I don't want to risk a relapse of him falling into bed with Darcy.

"I wish you all the luck in your sexual endeavors," Bellamy responds, lapsing into the formality that he uses when he's uncomfortable or angry.

Darcy huffs, rolling with the unsubtle rejection. "Thanks, Red. Let's get this shit to the car. I'm—" Darcy's phone chimes, cutting him off, and he pulls it out. His eyebrows draw together as he reads and then he grabs his athame from his hip, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Gotta go. It's been fun. Call me next time you're in the mood for slaughtering annoying royals."

He cuts a line from elbow to wrist on his own arm and paints a circular array in blood around his feet. The array glows red with magic, and he disappears, flying off to do whatever he does when he's not with us.

The rest of us stare at where he disappeared for a moment before shrugging off his quick exit and gathering the keeper clothes. Darcy does what Darcy wants to do. He's a busy man and the best tracker in all the realms. If he needs help, he knows our numbers, and we would probably help. He's been surprisingly available for us when we've called.

I should probably get to know him better, ask questions at least. He's technically a Foxily. (Edovard claimed him for us, and I will never disappoint my pupper by rejecting anyone he claims for our family.) I feel like I know Gregory better than I know Darcy, and I don't even like Gregory. I at least like Darcy enough to want to know what he's up to when he's not around.

With one hand I shoot off a message to my men, Vacation? Museum, planetarium, and confessing to what exactly happened to my ring? Oh, and food.

Fox stalls for a moment, but if I wasn't watching him so closely I might've missed it. "I'm hungry," he announces, heading out the door with an armful of reappropriated clothing.

I eye Fox,narrowing my eyes at him as we sit in silence across from each other while Bellamy's gaze ping pongs between us and we wait for the Captain to send us food. I don"t even know what I want, but I know when my order comes it will be perfect.

Fox brought me here for the first time the day I learned that the depot is evil and will send me to work before the sun rises. The restaurant is called "Diner," and it's a hole in the wall kind of place where the food is so amazing it makes up for the decor. Somewhere behind the doors that lead to the kitchen is the mysterious Captain. They send out food without taking orders, and for some reason are against leftovers.

Do I know who the Captain is? No. Never seen the person, don't know anything about them, and I've never asked, but maybe if I think about it hard enough Fox will give in and tell me, breaking our silent standoff.

I mean, he's going to lose one way or another; being mute has to have some benefits, even if it's being the all-time world champion at the silent game. No one beats me at the silent game.

I concentrate really hard on imagining the Captain, who they are, why they care at all about leftovers, and how they enforce the rule that leftovers aren't allowed.

Fox stares at me without giving away a single thing, but I know he knows what I'm communicating. He's mildly telepathic. We've been working on our mental connection, and he's gotten pretty good at reading me. The more we use the connection, the better we'll get, until eventually we'll be able to effortlessly mindspeak to each other as long as we're within range of his telepathy, which isn't even limited to this specific realm. He can mindspeak with his demon dad across realms.

It's impressive and sexy, and when I think about it, it makes me want to jump his bones, so I'm not thinking about it right now. Nope. Right now I'm trying to get him to tell me what the hell happened to my ring, but first I need to break the silence.

Hard to do for a mute boy, but I'm determined. I cannot go all day without sex, and I'm not having sex with Fox when our lines of communication are plugged up like it's allergy season and all the Mulberries are in bloom. Omigod, did you know that city planners plant male trees on purpose so they don't have to deal with the logistics of cleaning up fruit from female trees, and that's why we have an allergy season. Because pollen is plant sperm. Sperm, ha.

I glance at Fox thinking about the last time he painted me with his sperm.

No. Nope. Not thinking about that.

I'm not horny for Fox, especially right now when I'm annoyed with his insistence that nothing is wrong even though he hasn't told me what happened to the beautiful, gigantic diamond he bought me the day after I became his Harbinger.

Listen, concentration is sometimes a challenge for me and yesterday I started meditating to improve my focus. I fell asleep, but I'm going to get this, because telepathic communication with Fox is a life goal I didn't know I had until recently.

Fox's phone does something it almost never does. It rings. For real. Not just the ping of a text message. It doesn't startle me, of course. I'm way too cool for a random phone ringing to startle me out of the silent contest with my future husband. The jerk of my limbs was me trying to control the urge to throttle him just a little. That's it.

Fox looks at the caller ID, but the blank expression on his face tells me it's an unknown number, and then Bellamy's phone rings—this one doesn't startle me either—and the server arrives with a tray full of food. Fox stands, answering the phone with a brief mutter of, "This is Fox."

Bellamy does the same with a very similar greeting, and I watch the server place food all around the table while my company disappears outside.

I blink down at the platter the server sets in front of me. Confused, I look up at her, but she shows me a set of fangs with a tense smile, and then slides a flight of shots in front of me. "The Captain says you eat from left to right and drink the mead after each bite from right to left," she explains, then turns on her heels and leaves me with… my meal?

I look back at the platter, cataloging each single bite from left to right:

A bite of fresh chopped salad, but all the vegetables are diced and piled on a single small lettuce leaf

A mini quiche with spinach and feta

Five marinated beans in a small pile

A single chicken nugget with a dollop of mashed potatoes, five corn kernels, and a half teaspoon of brown gravy

A tiny single bite of filet mignon wrapped in bacon

A skewer with karaage, cucumber, and a sugar snap pea

A single bite of sweet potato with a small amount of melted butter

A skewer with squares of watermelon, cantaloupe, and honeydew

A spoonful of banana pudding

And a bite of baklava

Are you hungry yet? Me too.

I take my first bite—the salad—and it has a citrus dressing on it. When I sip the shot of mead after the bite, the citrus really comes out in the mead too, and holy shit balls, it's perfect. Yeah, no. I have no idea who the Captain is, but they're amazing.

I eat each bite of food and savor each mead, and I'm halfway through my meal before Bellamy returns, red in the face and carefully sitting like he's irritated or possibly embarrassed. It's hard to tell when the redhead gets worked up what the matter is.

Care to explain why you look like someone ruined your supper?

He glances at the message as it pings his watch and picks up his fork. "My cousin will be in town sometime soon—he wasn't clear on the timing—and he wants to meet you."

I blame the alcohol for the predatory grin that makes its new home on my face. I swear I'm not going to adopt another Jones, but I also had no idea Bellamy had a cousin, and I desperately want to meet him.

"Don't look at me like that," Bellamy warns me, stabbing his pot pie and mixing the crust into the piping hot innards.

Fox rejoins us, and there is a definite glower on his face—not that anyone else except me and Bellamy would be able to tell. I'm sure everyone else might be able to pick up on the glowering aura, though. Fox isn't trying to hide his annoyance.

Bad news?

I'm not going to not talk to Fox when something's upset him just because I want him to tell me what the fuck happened to my ring.

Fox's eye twitches, and he types into his phone.

Future Husband Even If I Have To Buy The Ring Myself: A dozen cherubs ran away from school, and their parents want us to find them and bring them back.

Me: This sounds like a Darcy job.

I'm not against working with the goth twink volcano monster, but we did just get rid of him; he might not even answer if we call him back so soon.

Future Husband Even If I Have To Buy The Ring Myself: The parents have requested that we track them down without alerting the authorities if possible, because they're fairly certain the cherubs are doing something illegal.

Our First Child: Illegal to what governing body?

Bellamy sends that with a wry smirk on his handsome, freckled face.

I love my kid. I think he's amazing, but sometimes I forget that he was, in fact, an assassin for the Avatar of Evil for almost as long as I've been alive before I adopted him.

Future Husband Even If I Have To Buy The Ring Myself: Ours, at least.

Suddenly a young guy who looks about my age with a huge amount of thick, elbow-length, curly sable hair and rich dark brown skin appears out of nowhere and drops into the extra chair at our table. He smiles widely, clearly an extremely friendly person and so adorable I bet he gets away with murder on a regular basis. "Hi. I'm Akile Aristide."

All three of our phones suddenly buzz with text messages, and with a glance at mine I see that the depot has greenlighted us for a whole month of vacation.

I didn't realize any of us had actually asked for vacation.

"Oh good. Now no one will be expecting to be able to get in touch with you for work." Akile's joy radiates from him, and he claps. "Finish your food. The Captain doesn't allow leftovers, you know. Then we'll be going. There's so much to do."