“Then I’ll introduce them to my ravens. Or ghosts. Or you guys. Or my new knife,” I list on my fingers before grinning at my worried quintet.
Baelfire squints. “How about…Cuttrina?”
“What?”
“You named your other dagger Pierce, so you'll need a name for your scythe-knife thing, right?” he points out. “This one can be Pierce’s girlfriend, Cuttrina.”
I grin. “Are we naming all my weapons now?”
“Why not, hellion? You can name all our cocks while you’re at it,” he flirts, brows bouncing.
Everett scoffs, cheeks turning pink already. “That’s a no. We’re not doing that.”
“Though if she did, she’d also have to name mine Pierce,” Crypt teases, blowing a kiss at me. “For obvious reasons.”
Asher Douglas gags loudly from beside us, making me realize he turned into this corridor while we were distracted. The big bounty hunter is making a face of disgust about what he just unwillingly learned about Crypt’s dick as the blue-haired girl ghost hovers up and pretends to kiss his cheek.
“I just came to see if you five finally dragged yourselves out of bed before the cult leader does something stupid,” he grumbles. “But please, for the love of all the gods, just stop being the fucking weirdest quintet I’ve ever had the displeasure of working for.”
Seeing him so uncomfortable, I can’t help but grin again. “Prude.”
“Hardly. I just really do not need to know anything about your quintet’s junk,” he shudders, gagging again before he turns to stalk out of this hallway.
As he does, I notice the top of a strange, shimmering golden tattoo peeking out from under the long-sleeved combat gear he’s wearing. The ginger has other smaller tattoos visible, but that one draws my attention. There’s just something about it.
Baelfire notices where my attention is lingering. “If you like ink, I’ll get some. Anything you want. I’ll even get all those weird, swirly tats Crypt has that you like so much.”
“For the last fucking time, they are not tattoos,” Crypt drawls, taking my hand as we continue strolling down the hall. His markings light up several times, but he carefully avoids showing any pain.
I still want to know what’s happening to them,I remind him telepathically.
Later, love.First things first, let’s deal with all your unwelcome admirers.
The moment we step outside of Everbound Castle’s main western exit, it’s an uproar. Nether humans clap and cheer, cameras go off, and people try to swarm closer to us. Luckily, hundreds of ravens have gathered on the tops of the castle. When the sinister birds see me outside, several dozen of them flock to me while the big one I’m fond of perches on my shoulder once again.
It’s an adequate reminder. The onlookers quickly step back to give us a wider berth as we stroll through the encampment toward the cluster of photographers already rushing to greet us.
Walking through an awed, excited crowd is strange after everything we were subjected to in the elite safe haven. Instead of people swearing, screaming, and spitting on me in repulsion, these humans and Reformists have fascination all over their features as they watch my quintet and me walk past. Some look excited, while others watch on in fearful awe.
The fresh rush of power inside my veins reminds me that aside from reaping spirits, my holy magic is now fueled by them revering me like this. But even more notably, my heart is poundinga lotas we walk through all these stares.
Stop doing that,I scowl at it inside my head.
Baelfire grins, scanning the awed crowd for any sign of danger toward me.She’s talking to her heart again.
Aww. Feeling nervous?Everett teases, moving to my side opposite Crypt to hold my other hand.
Is this what nervous feels like with a heart?
Ugh. Hearts are such fucking drama queens.
Finally, the reporters and photographers encircle us as closely as they dare to with my entire quintet and a conspiracy of ravens glaring at them in warning.
“Maven Oakley!” one of them shouts. “Over here! Give us a smile!”
Again, with the smiling shit? I look at that one, ignoring the flashing cameras as I let him know with my expression just how stupid he is for making that suggestion. He flusters and hides behind other reporters who call for my attention, talking over each other in frantic excitement.
“Are you happy to be back with your quintet?”
