Chapter 34 – Sariel
W e’re having breakfast and waiting for Aim to return to give us some direction. If it was up to me, we’d be at that warehouse, kicking ass. But that kind of thinking got us into trouble the last time.
Chewing the cinnamon and vanilla French toast Syrin prepared, I look at the sleepy faces of my companions. Doesn’t look like anyone rested this night. I grin to myself, reliving the depraved things I did to my little toys.
Speaking of toys . I nudge my cousin. “Psst, Nah. You went back to get your mortal?”
“Huh?” she asks in a daze. What is up with her, seriously? “Oh, yes. He got himself kidnapped by a few of Belial’s flunkies and Uncle sent me to fetch him. So I kept him.” She preens, looking more like herself.
I swallow a piece of toast and grin at her. Good for her.
Aim’s back before I can start teasing the Cambion. It’s about time.
“They want proof,” he says instead of a hello.
“What kind of proof?” Jess asks, yawning the words out. Aim gives me a look of reproach.
“What?” I mouth. It’s not my fault my trouser snake needs regular milking.
“Proof that Andras is involved, proof of what he plans to do,” Aim grouses. “We decided it’s best if we bring back one of the Cambions to testify in front of the Council.”
“Then we should go now ,” Ithuriel stresses.
“He’s right,” Jess adds. "That warehouse is gonna be empty before you can say, ‘I’d like to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty.’"
I smirk at my poppet, Kevin snorts, and Itha does a good job of ignoring the joke he doesn’t understand.
“Alright then,” Naamah says, sweeping her long black curls off her shoulder in a graceful motion. “What are we waiting for?”
“You shouldn’t go anywhere dangerous in your state,” Syrin gently reprimands the succubus.
The Cambion glances between the angel and his succubus. “What state?” he asks, notes of panic in his voice. “Are you sick?” he asks his lover accusingly.
“I can’t get sick,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Are you sure?” she then asks the angel.
Syriniana flushes and lifts her palms in apology. “I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?” Kevin asks and I drop my face into my palms at his confusion.
“I wasn’t certain,” Naamah admits, a grin blooming on her face. “I began suspecting last night.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Lana asks, her fork halfway to her mouth.
“Can someone please fill me in?” Kevin asks with a shout.
“You were the one doing the filling,” Mike mutters and I give him a thumbs up at the joke.
“Keep up, pet,” my cousin purrs at her lover. “We’re pregnant.”
Everyone cheers, except for Nephithar and Ithuriel, but the latter does have a gentle smile on his lips. It makes me want to kiss him.
“That’s impossible!” Kevin’s voice breaks and his face turns as pale as the cheese he was eating.
Lana rolls her eyes and places a hand on his shoulder. She begins speaking in a patronizing tone: “When a male and a female love each other very much…”
Kevin shakes her hand off. “I know how babies are made, asshole, I meant that we literally just decided to have them! I thought I’d have more time to get ready.”
“Well,” Naamah drawls nonchalantly. She’s clearly not upset by Kevin’s less-than-stellar reaction. “I have hundreds of siblings, sweetie. You really should have considered that fertility runs in my genes.”
“What am I going to do?” Kevin asks, sounding like a lost little boy. “I think I need to lie down.”
“No time,” Aim interjects decisively. “We’re already one down for the mission. Have your panic attack later.”
“Two,” Nephithar speaks for the first time since Aim arrived. “Syriniana should stay with the succubus.”
“He’s right,” his consort sighs. “If anyone followed you back last night, I won’t let her be caught here alone.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Nephithar says through gritted teeth, then eyes his son, obviously willing him to stay home too and possibly take away the need for him to join now that the possibility of someone following here is on his mind.
“Oh, we’re going, Dad,” Mike says confidently. “These people were gonna exterminate my kind like rats.”
The old demon sighs, rubbing a hand across his rugged features. “Very well,” he concedes.
“Mike,” Lana calls out to her friend curiously. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Ah, none,” the young mortal replies.
I see Nephithar’s hand twitch before he puts it on Syrin’s shoulder and gently squeezes.
“We’re not quite as fertile as our friend here.” The angel gently smiles at my cousin. “But we had numerous miscarriages through the millennia.” She smiles wryly but with an obvious edge of pain. “I guess it was our fate to wait for modern medicine’s assistance.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Lana murmurs.
“It’s okay, Lan,” Mike says breezily. “I’m here now and kept them more than busy over the years.”
“That’s the truth,” Nephithar grumbles, the atmosphere relaxing again as everyone else chuckles.
I poke Naamah. “Congrats, Cuz. You know,” I drawl, “Sariel is a strong name. Pretty androgynous too. It can go for boys and girls. Much like its owner.” I smirk at my grinning cousin. By the look on Kevy’s face, Sariel’s gonna be a no-go. Oh, well.
“Congratulations, Lupula ,” Aim says with a lopsided smile, calling her a little she-wolf in Latin. “But we need to get this show on the road if we have any hopes of catching Andras red-handed.”
Naamah purses her lips, grabs Kevin’s face, and brings it in for a peck. “Hurry back to me, pet,” she says in a sultry voice. “We need to discuss baby room décor.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Kevin replies, still in a daze. When snickers sound around the table, he realizes what he said out loud and turns tomato red.
“Do you have a vehicle?” Aim asks Nephithar, changing the subject, which I’m sure Kevy is grateful for.
“Does my dad have a vehicle, he asks.” Mike stands up and stretches, the T-shirt he’s wearing lifting up with the movement and exposing a swath of smooth skin over a lightly toned tummy. I stifle the urge to lick my lips – that old demon would probably rip my balls off if he caught me eyeballing his cute little twink of a son.
“He has several muscle cars and choppers if you prefer bikes,” Mike continues, already walking toward the door. “I’m gonna get dressed into something that covers a bit more skin than my pajamas.”
Aim nods to himself as he takes us all in. “So that makes… seven of us.”
“A magical number,” Lana singsongs. Aim ignores her.
“We’ll take a car and a bike, then. If that’s okay, Neph?”
I lift my eyebrows at the casual nickname but keep my mouth shut. I’ll stir some shit up later when time’s not a-ticking.
The burly demon crosses his arms. “I’ll take a Harley and you and Mike are driving the Mustang and Dodge, no one else.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Aim says with a smirk.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Nephithar grumbles. He turns to his consort. “Do you truly believe someone might have followed them?”
“I would’ve sensed anyone nearby,” Lana chimes in.
“She’s right,” I say. “Her Celestial-meter is freakishly strong.”
The demon blows air out of his nose, then turns on his heels before stalking off. Hopefully to put some tight armor on. Or maybe he fights topless like the barbarian he is.
What? My heart got taken, not my corneas.
Syrin walks over to my cousin. “Come on, Naamah, let’s talk in the garden.”
Naamah jumps up and clasps her hands. “Wonderful!” she says, following the angel to the French doors in the family room, leaving her lover behind. “Do you read? How do you feel about smut?”
I shake my head – my cousin is gonna have that angel reading taboo books in no time.
I look at Father’s main squeeze. “I know you want to join them, Lana, but go put on your leathers instead. If you get a scratch Ash is gonna lock me in the dungeons again.”
Lana sighs dramatically, then pushes herself back from the table. “Jess, you still got your armor?” She skeptically eyes our girl’s powder-blue T-shirt with a cartoon of a baby seal on the front.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jess replies. “Cleaned it and everything.”
The tall redhead raises an eyebrow. “Of what?” she asks, then quickly adds: “You know what, I don’t want to know.”
“No, you don’t,” I say with a chuckle.
Once the girls leave, I eye a still-stunned Kevin. I snap a finger in front of his face. “Hey, Kevy. Need me to help you change clothes?”
That successfully gets the mortal's attention (and me a disdainful look) and he follows after his teammates. Just me and my angel now. I give him my best sultry look.
“What about you?” I ask. “Want me to help you put your armor on?”
Ithuriel blushes, then stands up and smooths the front of his sweatshirt, ironing out invisible wrinkles. “I’m afraid that would defeat the purpose of us hurrying,” he murmurs.
When he almost reaches the door, he turns and hesitates for a second before speaking again. “But perhaps you can help me take it off after?”