Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
F or lunch, I take Fox to my favorite food truck for two reasons.
First, I genuinely like Lionel’s food, and second, he needs to know I don’t need a job anymore.
We weren’t able to go meet the wedding planner; we had to work another job that took us away from that plan, but Fox promised we will as soon as we can.
The customers standing in Lionel’s line eye me like a mark, which ok, that’s fair.
I am wearing more money than any of them have seen in their lives, but I’m not about to let any of them get within arm’s reach of me.
It helps that my date is covered in weapons, but none of them seem to take the threat seriously.
Oh wait.
Are you glamoured?
“Yes,” Fox whispers with a laugh. “Did you think I was walking around unaccosted because I’m handsome?”
Honestly, I thought it was because people are stupid and would rather think you’re cosplaying than that you have the confidence to walk around the city with actual guns and ammo visible.
“You’re not wrong about people,” he admits softly.
If you’re glamoured, why did I see your weapons at the diner and the library?
I assume that being his Harbinger gives me some immunity to the glamouring magic.
Fox gives me a curious look, giving a minute headshake. “Probably have a tiny bit of Fae in you. That’s the only reason I can think of.”
The only reason that doesn’t piss me off is because I have passive magic now. What’s the use of having ancient Fae ancestors if you don’t get the benefit of power? I’m ok. I’m breathing and not being mad. It’s fine. I’m fine.
When we reach the front of the line, Lionel looks me over with an arched brow, glancing at my companion and crossing his arms over his burly chest. “Two Manchkin Specials!” he hollers over his shoulder, then turns back to me, deadpan as you like, “I’ve been blinded by the bling because this cannot possibly be Romily Butcher standing before me as the Harbinger of Arlington Fox. ”
I give him my brightest smile, covering my surprise that he knows about the whole magic thing.
Maybe that’s how he got off the street. If so, good for him.
Like I said, if I’d ever had a kernel of power, I would have used it to do right by me, so I don’t blame him for doing the same if that’s how he picked himself up.
“Still as annoying as ever. Money covers a multitude of sins, but no one likes a back-talker,” Lionel teases as I slide him a five-dollar bill.
I push air through my lips, making a pfft sound, and jerk my thumb at Fox.
“Mr. Fox doesn’t exactly count as a normal person,” Lionel disagrees.
I grin up at my man and kiss his cheek affectionately.
“Huh. Yeah, this makes sense now. He’s the only person with the personality and patience to put up with you,” Lionel decides, looking between me and Fox.
Fox doesn’t react at all to Lionel, treating him the same way he treats everyone else, and that’s fine. Reputation to uphold and all that. I’m just glad Lionel approves. It would have hurt my heart if he hadn’t, but I didn’t know that until I brought Fox here.
“At least I don’t have to employ you now.
I wouldn’t have paid you a fair wage and that might have given me stress-induced heartburn.
Here’s your sandwiches. Get out of the way.
I don’t have time to visit with you all day.
” He slides our sandwiches through the window and pats my hand as I reach for them.
He’s gruff and has a hard-ass reputation to uphold, but he likes me, otherwise he wouldn’t give me the friends and family menu item.
I pass Fox his sandwich and wave to Lionel, happily walking off as I unwrap the goods. Who doesn’t like bacon, cheesy eggs, and toast?
I lead Fox over to a bench and sit with him, watching the people pass as we eat.
Most of these people are probably human, unaware of the magical man sitting right next to me.
They’re going about their lives like they always have, and a week ago, I would have been right there with them.
It’s crazy how a week can change a person’s life.
Well, it’s crazy how dramatically better my life has gotten in the last three days. I mean, I’m now sporting diamonds as part of my uniform. That’s a Cinderella story if I ever heard one, right?
Do you think I’m Cinderella?
Fox reads my message and shakes his head, clearing his mouth before replying. “Flynn Ryder.”
I think about that for a minute and shrug.
Ok, Rapunzel.
Fox chuckles, and the sound goes straight to my dick. Damn, he has a good chuckle. Rich, deep, full of the promise of joy if I ever get him to actually laugh. That’s a bucket list item: hear Fox’s unreserved laughter.
On the heels of his laugh, church bells start ringing all around us.
We both look around for the gargoyles, and I spot fifteen at first glance.
They’ve appeared in pairs all around us, mostly hanging out on the facades of the buildings, but two have appeared as statuary bookending the bench we’re sitting on.
I reach over and touch the stone gargoyle, petting it between its erect bat ears.
Fox leans over to the gargoyle next to me. “I didn’t get a message from the depot.”
The volume of the church bells increases all at once, then all but the gargoyle next to me go quiet. Fox listens to the gargoyle for a minute before standing, pulling me with him.
He hails a cab and puts me in it, rattling off an address to the cabbie and shutting me in with a quick parting kiss.
He turns back to the gargoyle and crouches down, petting the beast like I was as the cabbie takes me away. I wonder why we’re taking separate vehicles this time?
It takes an hour to get to the right address, and when I arrive, it’s another church.
Knowing how awful the last one was, I step out, looking up to find the roof lined with silent gargoyles.
Hundreds of them. A chill passes over me as I walk into the churchyard and up the steps, opening the heavy wooden door with a loud creak.
The inside of the church smells like burning candles, though none of the candles are lit.
A stone of instinctual unease sits heavy in my stomach as I walk into the sanctuary, which is illuminated only by the sun filtered through the stained glass windows.
As I step past the first row of pews, a black cloud of smoke appears and coalesces into the form of a black-skinned demon sporting horns and a mouth full of jagged, bloody teeth.
In his hand hangs a mostly headless gargoyle, no longer stone, but recognizable nonetheless.
Blood drips onto the red carpet in front of the altar as the demon lifts the body and takes a bite out of it, staring at me the whole time. My steps falter at the crunch of bone and the tearing of raw tissue, but I straighten my spine, level my gaze, and finish the march to the front of the church.
The demon’s laughter echoes through the empty sanctuary and hangs in the air like an oily substance. It halts my progress because it’s just so eerie.
Tossing the body aside, the demon runs at me, faster than I can track. It bounces off my magical protection and goes flying across the room with the same force it hit my ward. Growling in anger, it gets to its feet and runs at me again, flying off at another angle when my magic prevails.
The demon charges and bounces off me over and over for ten minutes while I stand like a statue hoping it’s not wearing down my defenses.
It worries me that it’s not flagging; Fox has competence in spades, but this one creature might be more than enough to seriously injure him.
I don’t know enough about his magical attributes to know if he’s killable, but fear that he might not be indestructible pokes me in the vulnerable parts of my heart and mind.
I hear the front door open as the demon takes another header into one of the stone columns, and I turn to see Fox stalk inside holding the biggest blade I have ever seen.
It’s at least as long as he is tall with the flat of the blade stretching six inches wide.
The upper half is smooth and sharp, gleaming like chrome, while the lower half is serrated with deadly teeth that drip a cloudy gray substance that dissipates as it leaves the blade.
He holds the massive weapon in one hand and points the end of it at the demon in challenge.
At least one of my fated mate’s species must have super strength; Captain America has nothing on him.
Even though I’m twenty feet away from the demon, I know I’m in the way of this battle and back up, rounding the end of the pew opposite the demon to make my way to the back of the church.
Fear for my Fox slithers into my heart, but I punch it down, choosing to believe in him rather than fear for him.
Nothing in his stride, bearing, or entrance makes me think he isn’t capable of handling this problem.
He believes in himself, and so do I, dammit.
The demon gets to its feet, baring its teeth at Fox in some kind of facsimile of a smile.
It’s laughter oils the air again, then it changes.
It grows bigger, bulkier, and armored. Spikes shoot out of its back, and a long sword appears in its hand, dripping the same ethereal smoke that falls from Fox’s blade.
Without pause or hesitation, my man attacks, moving forward faster than anything and striking the demon.
Their weapons clash, splattering the dark smoke around them so quickly that soon a fog surrounds them, obscuring my view of their battle.
That might be a good thing, because to be honest, my nerves are unsettled.
Fox is efficient and skillful. It never takes him long to kill everyone in his path, but the demon matches him swing for swing and doesn’t look like he’s flagging.
I know Fox doesn’t have an endless supply of energy; I’ve seen how he pants after a massacre.