Bellamy shakes his head. “No, we still have Santanos, and he’s been the Avatar of Evil for about a hundred years. A little less than, but we round up.”
“Absolutely. It’s good y’all have someone with experience in the trio to help you figure out how to do your work. After we get my shit back, you guys should go meet up with the Santanos guy, right?”
Bellamy makes a despairing noise, and Darcy huffs. “That motherfucking sandwich.”
It’s my turn to drop my jaw. “Darcy,” I gasp, releasing his hand and taking a step back. “Don’t say that shit about people. You could hurt someone.”
Darcy snorts. “That whole family is a bunch of sex demons, and I have seen with these very eyes things that have made me question if there isn’t a little I-am-my-own-grandpa in that family.”
“A sandwich—inbred,” Bellamy says aloud. “Darcy, you cannot go around spreading rumors like that.”
Darcy scowls at us. “I hate that motherfucker.”
Romily huffs, and as we come to a stop in Hell, Fox says, “You need to get over it. He’s a Foxily now, and we aren’t hurting our beloved Pupper because you don’t like his choice in mates.”
Darcy scrunches his nose up. “I’m the one you call the cousin no one likes. I ain’t gotta do shit.”
Bellamy laughs, stepping off the array. “You love Pupper, and you’re going to treat Santanos with some respect because you do.”
Darcy scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything, which means he probably does love their dog. “You know, dogs usually have a really good sense of people’s characters, and if theirs likes Santanos, he’s probably not a terrible person, even if he is the Avatar of Evil.”
Romily voicelessly laughs, and Fox explains as he helps Romily off the array. “Pupper is Edovard, our son.”
“That makes more sense than using Australian English. I thought it was a little weird you were calling friends ‘mates.’” Since none of us are Aussies.
Some of us can’t even be considered nationals of any of the current established governments; Darcy was incarnated before humans had governments, I think.
“Come along, Peach. Let’s go kill some demons,” he urges, holding out his hand to help me off the platform.
I take it because it’s been a minute since I wore my socket prosthetic, and I need to be careful. “I thought we were getting my stuff back?”
Darcy’s wide grin reminds me of a horror story villain right now, but fuck if he isn’t even hotter when he smiles like that. “We are.”
I’ve never condoned anyone’s murder, but in this case, I’d let him do it to get my leg back. Some things really are worth the value of a person’s life.
Probably shouldn’t say that out loud, though.
22
We’re in a courtyard where a massacre recently happened. The bodies haven’t been claimed by their loved ones yet. It looksreallyfresh, 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 differentbodies 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.
