Chapter 39 Malachi #2
“Watch the tail!” Litha snaps, swatting at the Hellhound’s stone flank. “If you break my commemorative spoon collection, I will turn you into dust, do you hear me?”
Chain-Chewer whines, tucking his tail between his legs and shrinking down, trying to make his terrifying bulk look dainty.
“The feline has been an absolute delight, by the way,” Litha chatters, shuffling toward the living room, oblivious to the fact that my heart rate’s sitting at a lethal three hundred beats per minute.
“Very well behaved. Kael has been to the market twice this week just to pick her up extra meat. She simply adores the flank steak. I think she’s refined her palate. ”
“That is… wonderful, Litha. Truly,” I say, scanning the room frantically. “Where is she?”
“Over there, on the fainting couch.”
Curled up on a crushed velvet armchair is Vesper. The creature has not just survived; she has thrived. She’s a cream-and-black sphere of fluff, looking less like a cat and more like a rising loaf of bread with ears.
I turn to Chain-Chewer, who’s sniffing the air with a predatory glint in his magma-colored eyes.
“Listen to me,” I hiss, grabbing his snout and forcing him to look at me.
“Do you see that ball of arrogance? That is not a threat. That is a diplomatic asset. If you maul this feline, Eden will never scratch behind your ears again. She will not call you a ‘good boy.’ She will look at you with cold, human disappointment for the rest of eternity. Do you understand?”
Chain-Chewer looks from me, to the cat, and then lets out a low, mournful grumble, slumping his shoulders in defeat.
Litha looks past me, peering back toward the hallway. “Where is the pretty mortal? I thought she’d be coming to collect her herself.”
My jaw tightens, the question hitting me like a punch to the sternum.
“Long story,” I say, my voice tight. “And I do not have time to tell it. Do you have something I can put the cat in? A crate? A box?”
“I have… this,” Litha says, rummaging through a pile of antique fabrics before producing a hideous, floral tapestry with leather handles.
“It’s vile,” I say, snatching it from her with zero hesitation. “And perfect. Thank you.”
I stride over to the velvet armchair and reach down, scooping the creature up. She lets out a disgruntled mewl and goes limp, dangling from my grip like a boneless, furry fluid.
“Good grief,” I mutter, adjusting my hold as her new weight settles in my arms. “You have become a dense, gravitational anomaly. Has she been feeding you lead bricks?”
I lift her higher, until her blinking eyes are level with my own. She stares at me with that familiar, imperious judgment that I have against all logic, come to crave.
“Hello, House-Beast,” I whisper.
I lean in and press my lips firmly against the soft fur between her ears, inhaling the scent of dust and warm animal. She blinks in return, reaching out a paw to bat lazily at my nose.
“We are going to go to your mistress,” I say, pulling back to look at her one last time. “But you are going to have to travel economy class.”
Then I shove her unceremoniously into the floral carpet bag.
“In you go, you gluttonous lard,” I say, tucking her tail in before zipping the monstrosity shut, making sure to leave a hole so she can breathe. “Try not to claw your way out. I need you intact for the reunion.”
I thank a confused Litha, sling the bag over my forearm, and burst back out into the alleyway with Chain-Chewer in tow.
We hit the main thoroughfare of the Central Hub like a wrecking ball. I’m a vision of absolute chaos, clad in white clothes stained with grease, blood, and soot, sprinting through the city carrying a floral handbag that looks like it was stolen from a geriatric knitting circle.
And I don’t fucking care. I have no dignity left to lose.
I fix my eyes on my office building, to where The Forbidden Zone lays underneath it.
I didn’t have a sanctioned permit last time, and I won’t need one now. I will throw myself through literally the first portal I can find, and figure it out from there.
“Out of my way!” I roar, shoulder-checking a massive, suited demon who is too slow to react.
I’m fifty yards from the door. Forty. Thirty. I can taste the freedom.
Then, the sky falls on me.
My face hits the cobblestones first, grating across the unforgiving stone. The skin of my cheek shreds, peeling back in wet, hot ribbons as momentum drags me forward across the grit.
The floral bag flies from my grip, skidding to a halt a few feet away.
“No!” I choke out, my mouth full of blood and gravel.
A heavy boot slams down between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the ground, and I thrash, spitting blood, trying to leverage myself up, but another weight crashes onto my legs. Then another on my arm.
I’m surrounded in a forest of pink skin and brute force.
Chain-Chewer’s snarling, snapping his jaws at the wall of bodies enclosing us.
“Cease!” a voice cuts through the chaos.
The boot on my back presses down harder, forcing the air from my lungs. I turn my head, my cheek scraping against the blood-slicked stone, to see a pair of pristine, polished black stilettos step into my field of vision.
“You... predictable... moron,” Veraxia pants, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
“Go... fuck… yourself,” I wheeze through the blood in my throat.
She straightens up, smoothing down the front of her blazer before pulling out her sleek, obsidian stone. “Wardens. Secure him and take him to the Oubliette. It’s time for his performance review.”