Alana Catherine shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t see like you can, but it will reveal itself when it’s needed.
“Cool beans!” Jennifer said. “So, what the heck were we talking about before I jujued everyone?”
Jegguthiz answered. He turned to me and made his request for payment again. “I’d like to be Jennifer’s protection. Permanently.”
“Umm…” I wasn’t sure how to respond. It was Jennifer’s call ultimately. “Jennifer, how does that sound to you?”
“Fantastic,” she said with a thumbs up. “I think Jegguthiz is just the bee’s knees, even if he does cheat.”
“If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.” Jegguthiz cracked the first smile I’d seen from the Demon. Somehow, it made him even more terrifying. “Right?”
Jennifer nodded an affirmative, her own sly smile matching his. “Right.”
“Wait,” I said, trying to work out the timing. “When did you guys play cards?”
“Last night,” Jennifer said. “After everybody went to bed. All the Demons played and I kicked some ass! Won four-hundred-dollars and fifty cents!”
“And don’t you think that’s because you cheated with your gift?” Jegguthiz asked with a smirk.
“Hell to the no,” she shot back with a laugh. “Everyone was cheatin’. I just did it the best.”
“Ohhhh yes!” Tim added. “My daughter is a card shark. She makes her pappy proud.”
And the world got a little bit weirder. Whatever. The price was definitely right.
Kogzin stepped forward. He silently made eye contact with all of the guard Demons, other than Jegguthiz. As his gaze met each of theirs, they nodded curtly. I was aware that some kind of silent negotiation was happening. I hoped it wasn’t a coup. I was really starting to like this bunch. It would suck to have to end them.
It was not a coup.
Not even close.
Kogzin’s gaze finally landed on me. “Angel of Mercy, we would like to continue our work, guarding the rightful Higher Power. It would give us a purpose that we could be proud of.”
My husband was a Demon—the Grim Reaper, to be more accurate. Normally, one would think that Demons were evil and Angels were the good guys. In my experience, that wasn’t remotely true. Kogzin’s words were a shining example.
“Not my decision to make,” I told him. “Although I’m very much in favor of the proposition. Alana Catherine? Shitty Ritchie?”
“Yes,” my daughter said. “I’m very happy to accept the offer.”
“And you, Shitty Ritchie? Thoughts?” I asked warily, not sure what he would say.
“I am in!” he shouted, doing a few celebratory jazz squares. “Do you think my guards would help me set up a Tinder profile?”
“Fuck, I hope not,” Candy Vargo muttered.
I agreed. “That isn’t their job,” I told the tiny dummy sternly. “Their job is to protect you. Period. We clear?”
“Sadly, yes,” he answered. “I shall endeavor to set up my own profile. How truthful are people on those sites? Should I fudge my height and let them know I was a former cannibal?”
“Okay, you know what,” I said, pressing the bridge of my nose and reminding myself that electrocuting the idiot would be mean. “We’re going to move on.”
“Excellent idea,” Heather said. “When would you like to begin the portrait, Jegguthiz?”
“No time like the present,” he answered. “I think the dining room would be an excellent backdrop. The colors and the symmetry speak to my heart. I feel quite giddy to paint in there. I can feel my artistic juices flowing!”
You could have blown me over with a feather. Ten minutes ago, the dude was scary. Now he was artsy and dare I add… cute.
“I tell you what, Jegguthiz,” Gram said, flying circles around the Demon. “I was right sad that them photos didn’t turn out, but you’ve made me as happy as a possum eatin’ sweet taters!”
