Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
M y cab waited for me, so I push Bellamy into it and crawl into the middle seat with Fox joining me on the other side.
“Home,” Fox tells Belaphor, who’s stuck with me all day.
Bellamy leans forward to look at both of us. “Why?” he questions, genuinely confused.
Fox doesn’t respond, so I pull out my phone and try to reason out a response for him.
First, I didn’t know I could just “claim” you. Second, because fuck Santanos.
Bellamy reads that, gives me a weird look, and a panicked laugh bubbles out of him. “Really? You just decided taking me would be a good ‘fuck you’ to Santanos?”
I excel at nonverbal communication.
“Santanos doesn’t like it when people take his toys away. You’re going to get one or all of us killed,” Bellamy informs me, regaining his composure and speaking in the same posh tone that he usually uses.
“You’re the only one in any danger,” Fox murmurs, sliding his hand onto my knee and squeezing it to reassure me.
“Because I’m the only human in this car.”
I’m human.
Bellamy pffts at my message. “You were before you became a Harbinger. Now you’re an immortal human plus. I’m just a human. I don’t have magic protecting me.”
I turn to Fox, exaggerating my surprise on my face and he nods.
“The magic of a Harbinger makes you immortal. You would continue aging and dying if you ever decided to quit,” he explains.
Isn’t it lovely how I’ve already trained Fox to be more communicative? I’m a goddamn miracle worker, aren’t I? Mute boy trains the silent type to talk in less than a week. Amazing.
Fox gives me a bored look, almost like he knows what I’m thinking.
I grin at him and kiss his cheek, turning back to Bellamy, who appears to be studying me.
“You’re mute.”
It’s not a question, but the surprise is clear in his tone.
It’s like the depot announced who I am and sent everyone pictures but failed to tell them I can’t speak.
Actually, that sounds like something Annette would do just because it’s funnier when everyone assumes I can actually talk and just choose not to.
Don’t worry, Fox and I will protect you.
I spin back to Fox, typing out a question that needs answering.
What exactly does it mean when a Harbinger claims someone?
“I don’t know,” Fox replies softly. “It’s something Harbingers can do, but I don’t think anyone ever has.”
The information flow toward new Harbingers really needs to be revamped and streamlined.
Me: So. I claimed someone.
Daddy: Who?
I turn to Bellamy and take his picture, sending it along.
Me: Bellamy. I don’t know his last name.
“Jones,” Bellamy says, unashamedly reading over my shoulder. “Who’s your daddy?”
“He’s talking to Annette.”
Daddy: Good choice! I bet Santanos is pissed! *three laughing emojis*
Me: Yep! He needs to die.
Daddy: Someday. Hopefully. But it’s pointless because he’ll just be replaced.
Me: Ugh. The balance of magic is as dumb as me.
Daddy: You’re not allowed to say that.
Me: I didn’t *say* anything.
Daddy: Does Fox know about your obsession with puns?
Me: Fox loves my puns!
“No one loves puns,” Bellamy mutters.
I scowl at him.
Go read a Xanth novel, you cretin. Puns are hilarious.
Me: How do I unclaim someone who hates puns and reads private messages over my shoulder?
Daddy: Already? But you just got him!
Me: I’m just not sure he’s worth keeping at this point. Also, what does it mean that I’ve claimed him? Fox doesn’t know.
Daddy: I’ll have to ask the council, but you can always talk to Dakota. He’s a council member.
Me: Ooh. Yes. I will message him. I’m still trying to figure out his species. DO NOT TELL ME. Fox thinks I can’t figure it out.
Daddy: I hate to agree with him, but I kind of do.
Me: I’m going to show all of you how good my Google fu is.
Daddy: I’d never bet against you, but I might start a board for how long it takes.
Me: Put me down for a week.
Daddy: Done.
Fox disappears from my side, alerting me that we’ve made it home. I climb out after him while Bellamy gets out on his side.
It’s well past eight, so I know I won’t be getting any more texts from the depot, but I’m still more than a little pissed about what they did today. And Santanos. My balls hurt and I’m too exhausted to be bothered to go out again. Plus there’s the whole thing with Bellamy coming home with us.
As soon as I get my boots off and change out of my dirty clothes, I head to the fridge, pulling out the containers of leftovers that we got last night.
My stomach thinks eating itself is a good idea, but I convince it that food is a better option by shoving some of the cold amuse-bouches into my pie hole.
Fox joins me, opening another container, while Bellamy stands awkwardly eyeing all the ridiculous number of tables everywhere.
I agree with his face when it questions the sanity of someone who collects tables, but I scowl and shake my head when he opens his mouth to comment.
He quickly changes what he was going to say. “Is there enough for me?”
Without a word, Fox holds out a container to him.
We have seven containers, so we do have enough to share, but as soon as Bellamy opens it, I steal a couple of the bites from it. I brought them home so I could try them; I’m not missing out because we have an unexpected guest.
Bellamy side-eyes me but wisely chooses not to comment.
I think I’m hangry, which is weird for me because I’m used to not eating all the time and I’ve never been grumpy about it.
As soon as the initial gnaw of hunger abates, I make grabby hands at Fox, and he hands me his phone after bringing up his father’s message thread. Damn, this man is easy to train.
Proud of him for reading me correctly, I kiss his cheek.
Me: This is Romily. How are you, Omp?
McQueen: I am well. What can I do for you?
Me: Well, what are my options here? Are you all powerful, and I can ask for anything, or is this limited to reasonable requests?
McQueen: I’m not omnipotent, and I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.
Me: Fair. But I get special consideration because I’ll be your son-in-law soon, right?
McQueen: Sure.
Me: Your answer has earned you the privilege of walking me down the aisle.
McQueen: I’m honored.
Me: I claimed someone.
McQueen: Send the details to Annette.
Me: I did, but no one knows what it means for a Harbinger to claim someone, so I’d appreciate some clarification from the council.
McQueen: I’ll send Annette the details so you can read them for yourself, but the takeaway is that you’ve basically adopted him. Congratulations.
Me: I’m too young to be a father!
McQueen: Too late. No take backs. I’m a grandfather now.
Me: I’m going through a tunnel. You’re breaking up. Krrk. Oh darn. I’ve lost the connection.
McQueen: *laughing emoji*
I hand Fox back his phone and point at him accusingly.
Fox takes my hand and kisses the back of it as he hands Bellamy his phone so he can read what Dakota said.
“At least you don’t have to raise this one,” Fox murmurs, pulling me in for a hug.
I consider that and shake my head. I do actually have to raise this one. He needs to learn to appreciate puns or he’s no kid of mine.
“Ridiculous. I’m at least fifteen years older than you,” Bellamy announces, handing Fox’s phone back.
Age is just a number, kiddo.
Bellamy reads my message and turns a fun shade of pink. “No.”
It’s too late. You read what Grandpa Omp said, no take backs.
“You’re not even married,” Bellamy argues.
Best to just start off on the right foot. You have four grandfathers now: Grandpa Omp, Grandpa Athair, Grandpa Pater, and Grandpa Chris.
Fox flashes me a smile as Bellamy reads that.
“I’m going home,” Bellamy decides, turning toward the front door.
I grab him before he gets three steps, smack his butt, and point my finger at him, shaking my head, then point to the floor in front of us.
Fox interprets for me. “You live here now, son.”
Fox makes it so easy to love him.
“I am not living in a house where the dining tables outnumber the actual number of residents,” Bellamy argues, deadpan.
“Please have Bellamy Jones’s residence packed up and move his belongings to my home. Sell all the furniture except the tables.” I didn’t even see Fox pick up his phone, but I can hear a quick response from whoever he called.
“No!” Bellamy protests, but it’s too late. Fox has already hung up, a smug look on his face.
“We’ll find a place for your tables,” he assures our boy.
Bellamy scowls at us both. “I liked my bed.”
Your new bed is amazing to sleep on.
I pat his chest to reassure him.
“You can’t just take me from my home.” His arguments are getting weaker. I sense capitulation around the corner.
How about an ice cream?
Bellamy pouts as his shoulders droop and he nods. “This is ridiculous.”
I guide him over to the table in the breakfast nook and sit him down, patting his back before grabbing a carton of mint chocolate chip from the freezer and three spoons.
Fox brings the bowls and scoops out our dessert, and in silent agreement he and I sit on either side of Bellamy, making sure he knows he can’t escape—I mean, that he’s welcome into our new little family.
“I’m not calling you ‘Dad.’”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fox murmurs. “Call me ‘Oppa.’”
Obviously I’m Papa.
Fox nods approvingly as Bellamy looks at him with an expression of utter disbelief. “Your reputation is a bald-faced lie .”
Fox taps the rim of Bellamy’s bowl. “Finish your ice cream. It’s past your bedtime.”
“Please send me back to Santanos.”