Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I ’m startled out of a dead sleep by the sounds of both phones going off. I roll over to check mine, but Fox’s arm pulls me back as soon I have it in hand, making me his little spoon. I pull up the text from the depot and it takes me a long few seconds for my sleepy brain to comprehend the words.
Messengers of Evil (I renamed them yesterday): Paternity leave approved. Confirmed two days leave. Congratulations on your new addition!
As soon as I understand the message, I drop my phone on the bed and snuggle closer to Fox. I assume he did this.
My phone almost immediately chimes again.
Daddy: Why am I getting a notice of paternity leave from HR?
Me: We adopted Bellamy last night. Obviously we need some time to adjust to parenthood.
Daddy: I’m too young for grand sugar babies.
Me: It’s too late. No take backs. You’re a grand sugar daddy now.
Daddy: Imma buy my boys matching father-son outfits.
Me: I approve. Make sure his says “mini me” on it.
Daddy: *evil smiling emoji*
A bang on our bedroom door almost makes me regret claiming the thirty-five-year-old punk on the other side of it. “Why am I getting a notice from the depot that I’m on naternity leave for two days? I don’t even work for the depot!” Bellamy calls through the door.
I pick up my phone and text him.
Me: 1. You realize that I can’t call back through the door, right? 2. Did you just say ‘naternity’? 3. New parents take leave all the time. We just want to make sure you get settled in before we have to go back to work. You were a surprise! We don’t even have a sitter lined up.
Bellamy sends me a screenshot of the depot’s message to him, which does in fact call his leave “naternity.”
Our First Child: *middle finger* Make sure the sitter is hot or I will run away.
Me: Done.
Our First Child: I’m going to make sure the moving company doesn’t break my shit.
Me: Bring jelly donuts.
“And bear claws,” Fox murmurs sleepily.
Me: And bear claws.
Our First Child: I’m not sure I’m old enough to buy donuts on my own.
Me: If I have to buy them you’re eating Grapenuts for breakfast for a month.
Our First Child: *middle finger*
I let my phone fall back to the bed and sigh when Fox kisses my neck, hugging me a little tighter.
We didn’t do anything but crawl into bed last night.
I was too tired both physically and emotionally.
When I wrapped him up in my arms and spooned him from behind, the entire ordeal with Santanos finally caught up with me, and I just had to cry it out.
Fox let my tears soak into his T-shirt and didn’t say a word.
It was nice, and I feel fine this morning. I’ve been through worse things than a few forced orgasms, but obviously this was far more personal than attempted murder.
For a while, I soak up the warmth of being in Fox’s arms, dozing in and out of wakefulness without truly falling back to sleep. After a time, he kisses my neck again and pulls away, taking himself to the bathroom, which makes me aware of my own pressing needs.
When he doesn’t emerge after five minutes, I roll out of bed and head to the hall bathroom, taking care of my morning ablutions there. I haven’t moved my toothbrush and other bathroom products out of here yet, so I put that on my mental agenda for today.
The only thing I did last night before falling into bed was move my clothes out of Bellamy’s room. Fortunately, today can be a lounge day since we have the time off, so I don’t bother changing out of my threadbare pajamas before heading to the kitchen to make coffee.
Bellamy sits at the table in the breakfast nook with a box of donuts in front of him and a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. As I pour myself a cup from the coffee pot, I have to admit that fatherhood suits me; I already have my kid trained to provide caffeine and donuts. I’m amazing.
Bellamy follows my movement with his violet eyes as I sit across from him and pull out a donut from the box. His face, perfectly fine when he went to bed, now sports a darkening bruise on his left cheek. I point to it, arching a brow in question.
Bellamy sighs a bit dramatically. “Santanos doesn’t like having his toys taken away,” he repeats. “There are minions posted to encourage me to go back to him.”
Ok, look, I know Santanos sending people to beat up my kid is serious, and I shouldn’t laugh, but not even the threat of Armageddon could have stopped the silent laughter that bubbles up at his words.
I know people who have actual minions. Minions!
!! Who has minions in real life? No one, that’s who. Except Santanos. Wait.
Me: Do you have minions?
Daddy: Thousands of them. Why?
Me: Just…making sure this is my life now. I’m your favorite minion, right?
Daddy: Eh. It’s a toss-up. Depends on how much I like my grand sugar baby.
I snap a photo of Bellamy and send it to her.
Me: Put his photo on your wall. He needs to see his new family has accepted him.
Daddy: I’ll frame it and everything.
And my life used to be boring.
“I’d forgotten what it was like to be ignored by my parents,” Bellamy deadpans, picking up another donut.
I’m not ignoring you. I’m reporting your assault to the authorities. Like the wonderful Papa I am.
Bellamy scoffs. “You know, I was Santanos’ favorite assassin for a reason.”
Like father, like son, I suppose. I guess I should invest my new fortune in first aid supplies. You and Fox are going to send me to the poor house just keeping you in bandages.
While Bellamy reads that, my phone chimes with a new message that he unabashedly checks instead of giving me my phone back. He taps my screen a few times and then his phone chimes.
“Why am I in your phone as ‘Our First Child?’”
I take my phone back to see what he’s done, discovering a file sent from Annette that he’s forwarded to himself. It’s the information on a Harbinger’s claim. The breakfast nook quiets as we both start reading.
Eventually Fox comes in, planting a kiss on my head as he joins us for breakfast. He starts reading over my shoulder but interrupts himself with a tap on the table.
I quickly forward him the file and continue reading.
Dakota’s takeaway from the information is actually a fair summary, but there’s some extras he didn’t mention.
The way the document reads, it seems like Harbingers are held in special regard by the balance of powers, but the information about why that is just isn’t there.
Harbingers and the Avatars (Annette and Santanos) are the only other people afforded the ward of protection that I have, which kind of explains the bullets that stopped midair yesterday.
Kind of because I bet if I was shot, the bullet would ricochet or bounce back or something like what happened to the demon.
Why Harbingers are given the same protections as the Avatars isn’t explained, although the file does tell me that I can extend my protective ward to Bellamy, if he agrees to submit to my claim.
He won’t be limited to non-violence like me, since my non-violence is a prerequisite for being a Harbinger, but his would be limited to defensive violence only.
Basically, I adopt him, provide for his needs, and protect him, and Bellamy is allowed to function as a bodyguard for me and back up for Fox. It’s like taking a job that includes room and board and then your employer suddenly decides you’re family forever and ever and never lets you quit.
I suppose that’s why Harbingers haven’t claimed people before me; it’s quite the commitment. Eternity is a long time. Not that I expect to be a Harbinger forever, but I will be as long as Fox needs me.
How long have you been a Reaper?
My question makes Fox pause, staring up at the ceiling. I hide my laughter behind a sip of coffee, waiting for him to finish calculating. “About fifteen hundred years.”
“What?” Bellamy asks, looking up from his reading.
“How long I’ve been a Reaper.”
Bellamy nods, impressed and curious. “No one really gossips about you.”
Fox’s dry look could mummify the living. “There’s nothing to gossip about.”
“Well, except for that one story that everyone likes to repeat,” Bellamy continues without even acknowledging Fox’s assertion.
I perk up at that and tap the table, clearly communicating the need for him to tell me the story.
Bellamy blinks at me and I watch the process of his decision-making cross his face. He’s not sure if it will be more satisfying to pretend he doesn’t know what I want or gossip about Fox with him sitting right there. I admit, it would be a tough decision for me too.
Of course, Bellamy splits the difference. “Want something, Papa?”
Pride at how quickly my boy’s growing up splits my face into a grin. Then I none too gently pat his face, conveying my insistence he tells me the story.
Bellamy winces against the sting of my pats. “Abuse,” he whines.
I tap the table insistently.
“Fine,” he grouses. “I have no idea how accurate this is. It is the only story I’ve ever heard about Fox, and it happened when his name was Timothy Blackblade of Avon.”
I gasp, widening my eyes and turning to Fox.
He blinks up at me from his reading. “I change my name when it’s appropriate.”
I narrow a scowl at him accusingly.
Your parents call you Arlington. What’s your real name?
“We call each other the names we’ve chosen.
My original name was Macfilsenghe,” Fox explains, and I can hear the exasperation in his voice but don’t understand it until he explains.
“They bickered for a hundred years about what to call me and gave up when I was born and just named me ‘son.’ My real name is Arlington Fox until I age out of it.”
And just because it’s adorable to watch him calculate, I ask, How long have you been Fox?
As predicted, he looks up at the ceiling as he thinks and returns with, “Fifty-two years.”
So he’ll be Fox for another thirty or so years. It’ll be interesting when we have to change names. I’m bad with remembering the year. Sometimes it takes me until the fall to stop using the previous year. It’s going to take ages to switch from calling him Fox.
I turn back to Bellamy and roll my hand for him to continue.
“So, back when he was Blackblade, a large coven of vampires descended on Paris. They were killing people indiscriminately and turning fledglings by the dozens. Fox was in England at the time, so the powers that be sent him to end the massacre in Paris. He entered the den, facing down a thousand feral vampires. No one knows exactly what happened that night, but when the sun rose in the morning, the only evidence that the coven ever existed were the bloodstains on his clothes and the bite marks on his body.”
Fox huffs. “The story has been exaggerated. I got to Paris three days after the original coven arrived and there were only a few hundred vampires in the city. It took me another three days to hunt them down. And I left the Parisian vampires alone.”
“Since then, everyone knows not to interfere when Fox is on the hunt. It’s why the people he targets don’t bother running. They know they don’t stand a chance of escape.” Bellamy eyes Fox with respect I didn’t realize he had for my man. “You’re the reason I got recruited to Santanos’ side.”
Fox assesses Bellamy, looking for the rest of that truth in his lavender eyes. “Why?”
“He thinks if he can make me as immortal as you, I’ll be a match for you.” Bellamy levels his gaze at Fox, sitting back. “He’s wrong.”
Fox grunts at that. “If you accept Romily’s claim, he won’t be.”
“If I accept the Harbinger’s claim, there will never be a test of skill between us,” Bellamy corrects.
Because the person a Harbinger claims is called an Acolyte, and they exist to stand with a Reaper, defending the Reaper’s back.
“I would spar with you.”
Bellamy hums softly and flicks his gaze to me. “I’m going to accept even if you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”
I grin at him, flattered that he likes me.
We’ll be a family until Oppa retires from reaping.
“Why are you so embarrassing?” Bellamy whines.
“Don’t talk to your Papa that way,” Fox says, pulling me into a side hug.
I sigh, curling into his body, happy to be here with a teasing, fun, makeshift family. It’s been a long time since I belonged somewhere.