Orcus laughed. His breath stank like the rot of death. “I would rather Azrael know there is a traitor in his precious Imperium than grovel for scraps of mercy.”
I empathized with the demon’s pride, but it would only delay the inevitable. “Are you sure about that? Azrael is known for his inventive tortures.”
Orcus nodded sluggishly. “I understand now why you work for him.”
I said nothing, for I did not wish to engage the demon on any topic other than his trespass or invite more moral quandary into my life.
“To protect the youngblood while your mother is held in captivity.” Orcus leaned forward and said with a bloody leer, “but here is something I know, demon-hunter.” He attempted to lift his finger as if to hex me, but his wrists were bound, so he could only point at my shins. “You will fail.”
He sang the last words in a sinister taunt, then laughed, unhinged. My rational mind dismissed his prediction as the mutterings of a demon with nothing left to lose, and yet, my hair stood on end.
“But I could help you,” he said with a raised brow. He had the look of a mad pirate fomenting blood. “I could see the trouble coming and warn you of it.”
I gave him a scrutinizing look. “If that were true, then why couldn’t you see me coming today?”
“Who says I didn’t?” he asked.
I didn’t care to answer the demon’s riddles, and I longed to return to you and whatever lopsided cake awaited me. I contacted Imperium forces, and they informed me they’d be at my location within the hour. Their medics could patch up my handiwork, though a worse fate surely awaited Orcus once he’d recovered.
“What will you do when you’ve captured all of our kind?” Orcus asked. “Look around and find yourself alone. Forsaken by all, even the angel who’s sworn to protect you.”
I had no illusions about my importance to Azrael, but the demon was right on one count. My soul be damned, this was what I must do to keep you safe.
9
VINCENT
You belonged to me. It was something I’d never said out loud but the expectation had always been there. You’d given me so much time and attention over the years, how could I not be possessive? And now there was someone else in your life.
Bruno.
Within five minutes of meeting him, I knew he must be your boyfriend. The idea made my stomach turn. It was this toxic brew of jealousy, fear, and resentment. I thought I was going to throw up.
And why should I feel that way? We were brothers. Well, half. I shouldn’t care who you dated. I should be happy for you that you’d found someone. What was wrong with me?
Bruno was swimming laps when we arrived at your condo’s pool. He was insanely attractive with smooth tanned muscles and curly black hair. His bathing suit barely hid all of his bulging bits. Banana yellow. It took a man with extreme confidence to pull off yellow Lycra. He was like pornographic click-bait, and it made me feel impossibly young and toady. And he was staying with you. I knew because his crap was scattered all overmybedroom.
Technically it was the guest room where I slept when I stayed the night, but still.
Bruno swam to the edge of the pool and blinded me with his smile.
“Hello again, Vincent. You’ve grown.”
Not enough because I was still puny. I’d once asked Mater if I’d ever be as big as you, and she straight-up told me, nope. She didn’t even try to make me feel better.
“How old are you now?” Bruno asked as I shook his wet hand.
“Seventeen.”
“I haven’t seen you since you were…” He rubbed his shiny lips together and squinted. “Three years old?”
“Four,” you corrected. Your steady gaze centered on the two of us. The fact that you wanted me to like him made it even worse. You’d never introduced me to any of your love interests before. I mean, I figured you had them—what with your biceps and your smolder—but you’d always kept that shit on the side, which was how I preferred it. Why Bruno? Why now? Were you two, like, going to get married?
“You were so funny and charming,” Bruno said.
“I’m not anymore,” I assured him. “And I don’t remember you.” I pulled my ballcap down on my forehead. Staring at his fabulousness was giving me a headache.
“Vincent,” you said while Bruno only laughed. At me. Because I was being a bratty little bitch.
