The more I learn about this family, the more I realize they’ve been through actual hell. Multiple hells, probably. And yet here they are, laughing over dinner like any other family, passing dishes and teasing each other and wiping baby drool off their shoulders.
While Hannah pushes back from the table to get dessert from the kitchen downstairs, I sidle up to Layden. I try to speak low because I can feel Romulus’s eyes boring into my back like laser beams. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Layden’s blue eyes look up at me, startled by the direct address. “Uh. Sure?”
I nod my head toward the fireplace sitting area—a cozy nook with overstuffed leather couches and a fire crackling in a hearth large enough to roast a whole pig. Still feeling Romulus’s stare but refusing to acknowledge it.
“Now?” Layden asks, glancing at his half-finished plate.
I nod again, more insistently.
We leave the table and head toward the couches, our footsteps muffled by thick woven rugs. “What’s up?” he asks, finally tucking his phone into his hoodie pocket.
“Well, you seem like the guy who knows stuff.” I keep my voice low, very aware that supernatural beings probably have supernatural hearing. “And you’ve been around humans more. So you know both worlds.”
He nods slowly, waiting.
I feel my cheeks go pink. “I noticed there’s a lot of babies around here, and uh—” I wave a hand, embarrassed but determined to power through. “That’s not really my thing right now. I don’t suppose there’s some sort of... like... supernatural birth control?” I whisper the last part.
To his credit, his eyes only widen the tiniest bit before he nods. “Yeah. I know something. Come on. My bag’s in my room.”
Muscles I hadn’t even realized I’d tensed suddenly relax, my shoulders dropping. “Oh my gosh, that would be amazing. Thank you.”
I start to follow him toward the curved stone staircase when all of a sudden, a large hand on my shoulder stops me cold.
“Where are you going?”
I turn in surprise to see Romulus looming over me. Up close, he’s even more imposing—easily six and a half feet tall, with those powerful wings creating a shadow that seems to swallow the firelight. His jaw is tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
“None of your business,” both Layden and I say at the exact same time.
I smile at Layden—solidarity—then glare up at Romulus, refusing to be intimidated.
I can practically feel him seething as I follow his brother up the winding stairs, the temperature seeming to rise with his anger.
Layden’s rooms are only one floor up, but they’re nothing like the elegant, posh spaces I’ve seen everywhere else in this castle. Instead of tapestries and antique furniture, they’re absolutely stuffed with monitors and computer equipment. At least six screens glow in the dimness, each showing different feeds—news channels, social media, what looks like stock market data. Ethernet cables snake across the floor like vines, and there are concerning stacks of dirty dishes on every available surface, along with what might be a small mountain of takeout containers shoved in one corner.
“Wow, are you a computer genius or something?” I step carefully over a tangle of cords.
“Oh, nah.” He shoves a pile of clothes—I genuinely can’t tell if they’re clean or dirty—off a chair and onto the floor so he canpull a worn canvas bag out from behind his desk. “I just like to keep a watch on things.”
I nod, noting the multiple screens. One shows what’s definitely security camera footage of the castle exterior. Another has lines of code scrolling past. “Right. Just... watching.”
“Okaaaaay,” he says, plopping down in his desk chair and dropping the canvas duffle bag on his lap. He sorts through it, and I hear metallic clanking and glass bottles rattling around inside—sounds like he’s carrying a whole apothecary in there. His brow furrows as he grabs and then discards items. “No, not that. Not that. Where are you?”
He hums under his breath, completely absorbed in his search, pulling out things that look increasingly alarming—a jar of something glowing faintly blue, a knife with strange symbols on the blade, what might be a shrunken head but I’m really hoping is just a weird doll.
“Here we are.” He pulls out a small pink plastic disc triumphantly and hands it to me.
I frown at the familiar object, popping it open and looking down at what appear to be completely normal birth control pills—the little round tablets in their familiar foil packaging. “Um. Am I missing something?”
“Nope. These are—” He winces but then waves a hand. “Magic. I hate using that word, but essentially, yeah. Let’s just say I know some folks who are familiar with beings from other realms. Different realms from the ones my family’s from.” He shrugs. “You aren’t the first to be concerned about not creating inter-realm offspring.”
My mind is officially blown. I sink down onto the edge of his unmade bed because my legs suddenly feel unsteady. “How many are there? Realms? Beings?” I’ve just been walking around my whole life, riding the bus and buying groceries and worrying about my credit score, completely oblivious to the fact thatthere’s a whole other world—multiple worlds—of creatures out there?
He waves a hand dismissively. “Fewer than you’d think, honestly. It’s actually really hard to move between realms. My family makes it look easy, but that’s just because the angels were the most successful at it. And most of them had the good sense to stop fucking around in a place they had no business being.”
I think of the mosaic in the top tower—all those battles and conquests depicted in glittering tiles—and bite my bottom lip. “So who else is out there besides the angels?”
