Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Talon
Fuck yes! Everything was coming up Exiled today. I couldn't stop bouncing on my toes as I announced to the others, "I'm heading to the castle to raid the kitchen. Our little witch is gonna need sustenance when she wakes up."
My body was practically vibrating with leftover battle energy.
How could it not be? First, we kicked major ass.
Then my ghost brother—my fucking ghost brother—showed up after all these centuries.
And now Palmer was back, which was a whole gift-wrapped package of awesome tied with a bow made of destiny.
"I'll come—" Misha started, but I cut him off with a finger wag.
"Nope. You stay here and keep dream-stalking our girl. It's working for you." I threw him an exaggerated wink that made him scowl. Gods, I loved when he got all broody. Made me want to climb him like a tree. Later though. Food mission first.
Felix's voice slid into my head. 'Try not to destroy anything while you're there.'
'Me? Destroy things? I would never.' I projected back the mental equivalent of batting my eyelashes.
'Right. And I'm the Queen of Besmet.'
I snorted out loud, earning weird looks from the others. Whatever. They were used to the twin-speak by now. Though I guess it was triplet-speak with Jasper back in the mix. Holy shit, Jasper was back.
‘Gods damn right, I’m back,’ Jasper piped up in my mind, for the first time since he’d rejoined us.
‘Fuckin’ hell, Jas,’ Felix said with surprise. ‘I’m not used to hearing anyone but Tal.’
My laughter fired through our connection, and soon we were all laughing because, well, what else were we supposed to do? The whole situation was beyond fucking crazy.
‘Welcome back, brother. We fucking missed you,’ I told Jasper, meeting his gaze across the room.
My chest got all tight thinking about everything. Sure, he was slightly more see-through than I remembered, but beggars couldn't be choosers. And the fact that he was Palmer's mate? Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Seriously, though," Ashland said, "be careful. We don't know if—"
"If there are still threats lurking about, if Scorpio might show up, if Palmer's going to need more than just food when she wakes." I ticked off the concerns on my fingers. "I got it covered, Dad. Promise I'll be a good boy."
Rhodes made a choking sound. "You wouldn't know how to be good if your life depended on it."
"True." I flashed him my most wicked grin. "But that's why you love me."
Before anyone else could try to rain on my parade, I jumped straight to the castle kitchens. The delicious scent of fresh bread hit me, and my stomach growled. Okay, maybe this food run wasn't entirely altruistic.
As I started gathering supplies, I couldn't help but replay all of the moments with Palmer earlier. There was recognition between us, understanding. She knew now. Knew what we were, what we could be together.
I'd been saying it since that first night at the club—she was made for us. All of us. Even my ghostly brother, apparently, which just proved my point. The universe didn't make mistakes like that.
My tail materialized without permission, knocking over a bowl of fruit. "Shit." I grabbed for it, managing to catch most of the apples before they hit the floor. One rolled away under a cabinet, and I left it. Some castle mouse was about to have the feast of its life, but—
"Oh my GODS!" I squealed, clutching my chest when a little black mouse scurried right over my damn foot, heading straight for the apple I'd dropped.
"Grow up! Espèce de gros démon mal dégrossi au QI d’hu?tre!"
I blinked and looked around. Who the hell said that? Damn, I really needed to eat something.
I should probably have reined in my demon parts before I wrecked the whole kitchen, but I was too amped up. Everything felt possible right then. We had Palmer back. We had Jasper. We had a second chance to do this right.
My wings fluttered against my back, wanting to burst free, too. "Down, boys," I muttered. "Let's focus on the mission."
Right. Food. For Palmer. Our beautiful, powerful, slightly terrifying witch who just happened to be perfect for us in every way.
Gods, I couldn't wait for her to wake up.
I spied several loaves of fresh bread and reached for them when—POOF—they vanished, right before my eyes.
Here one second, gone the next. What the actual fu— A prickle crawled up my spine.
Someone's watching. I whirled around, an apple clutched in each fist, muscles tensed to crush whoever's skull stood between me and those mysteriously disappearing loaves. ..
A dark figure materialized by the counter, casually holding my stolen bread loaves.
I recognized him instantly. He had dark curly hair, which was looking like he’d just had a post-battle romp.
Well, normally I’d high-five a hungry dude after killing and sex, but not a thief!
He tilted his head, and a nose ring caught the light, illuminating his naturally warm, deep brown skin, like the sun at dusk.
The stranger's eyes met mine with a predatory gleam that matched the sharp fangs visible as he reached down and grabbed another loaf from a different stack. How much bread did one person need?
"That's my bread, asshole." I hurled an apple at his head with demonic speed.
He caught it in his teeth. Actually caught it. In his teeth. Then crushed it, juice running down his chin as he maintained eye contact.
"Was your bread," he corrected, before wincing and spitting little pieces of apple out of his mouth like he'd just tasted the worst thing on earth. He set the bread down and hopped off the counter, straight for a bottle of red wine, and started chugging.
Oh, it was on.
I vaulted over the counter, wings bursting free as I landed in a crouch. "Listen up, Count Fangface—"
"Faris," he interrupted, wiping his mouth and matching my crouch. "Blood mage. And you're one of The Exiled. The unhinged one."
"Talon," I growled, tail lashing. I didn’t care that this was the one that beastly dragon Sloane had wanted me to meet; he had an attitude problem! But on the other hand, he was one hell of a fighter. I’d seen him out there, and I had to admit, I was impressed.
"And I'm perfectly hinged, thank you very much. "
He barked a laugh. "Well, I'm fuckin' not hinged, not even one percent! And you're the demon currently perched like a gargoyle with produce as weapons."
I glanced at the apple still clutched in my hand. Fair point. So I ate it, core and all, maintaining eye contact right back at him.
Faris's grin turned feral. "Amateur." He grabbed a whole pineapple and bit into it like an apple, spikes and all. "Fuck, that's foul."
"Oh sweetie," I purred, "you have no idea." I snatched up a watermelon and crushed it against my forehead, letting the pieces rain down around me. "Your move, blood boy."
Faris wiped some pineapple juice off his face, his eyes gleaming with unholy delight. "Oh, you're fun. I like you."
"Most people do," I replied, spreading my arms wide. "But they don't usually steal my fucking bread when I'm on an important mission."
"Important mission?" He snorted, then zipped across the kitchen, grabbing a wheel of cheese. "I'm on a mission too. Stocking up before the big crowd shows up. Those dragons eat like... well, dragons."
I narrowed my eyes. "Don’t mock my mission."
"Seems we’re on the same assignment, demon. Now, catch!"
The cheese wheel flew at my face at approximately the speed of light. I ducked, and it exploded against the wall behind me, showering the entire area with dairy shrapnel.
"Motherfucker!" I shouted, scooping up a handful of flour from a nearby barrel and launching it in his direction. "That was artisanal!"
The flour cloud engulfed him, turning his skin ghost white. He looked down at himself, then back at me with vampiric outrage, fangs on full display. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this out of leather?"
"About as hard as it'll be to get those stupid-ass pointy teeth out of your ass when I'm done with you," I growled, already reaching for more ammunition.
Faris disappeared in a blur, reappearing with a bottle of olive oil that he promptly uncorked and squirted in my direction. I dodged, but not fast enough, and my left wing got drenched.
"Fuck! That's going to take forever to clean!"
"Exactly." He grinned, fangs glinting. "Pro tip! Try dish soap. Works wonders on grease."
I retaliated by grabbing three eggs in each hand and throwing them rapid-fire. Four of them found their target, cracking open on his chest and dripping down his front. The other two sailed past him and hit a passing kitchen servant, who shrieked and fled.
"Civilians, Talon!" Faris mock-scolded, ripping open a cabinet and pulling out what looked like a sack of potatoes. "Let me show you how it's done."
He swung the sack overhead like an Olympic hammer thrower, building momentum before releasing it. The burlap split mid-air, unleashing a potato hailstorm that pummeled everything in a five-foot radius. Including me.
"Ow! Shit!" I rubbed my forehead where a particularly enthusiastic spud had connected. "That's deadly assault with a root vegetable, you sick fuck!"
My tail lashed out, knocking over a barrel of what turned out to be molasses. The sticky black substance flowed across the floor, trapping Faris's boots.
"Ha! Gotcha now, blood sucker!" I crowed, grabbing a nearby pitcher of cream and advancing on my trapped adversary.
Faris looked down at his stuck feet, then up at me with a smirk. "Did you, though?"
He vanished—literally fucking vanished—leaving his boots behind in the molasses. He reappeared on top of the center island, now barefoot and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"That's cheating!" I protested.
"Says the demon with wings and a tail," he shot back, rummaging through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. His eyes lit up as he pulled out a small packet of powdered cheese, the kind used for cheap macaroni and cheese.