Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A fter some discussion and a lazy morning, we decide to get lunch out and then head over to Bellamy’s previous residence to check on things since he didn’t make it this morning after his donut run, and from there Fox is taking me on a matinee movie date.
Bellamy borrows some of Fox’s clothes since we basically kidnapped him, and I reluctantly wear some of my old clothes without my bling.
What I need is to get my ears pierced so Fox can buy me fancy earrings I can wear all the time. Yes, I know I would have to do the piercing myself, but I feel confident in my aim after injecting the chip into my hand. And it would be so worth it to have everyday diamonds in my ears.
The wall in front of the brownstone is lined with chattering gargoyles. The cacophony drowns everything out, but since their church bell voices are always in tune, it’s not unpleasant to hear. I do stop and halt Bellamy’s progress as well, looking to Fox for an interpretation of the chatter.
He bends his ear, listening for a moment, then shakes his head. “Gossip.”
Feeling safe, I release Bellamy and take Fox’s hand, following him past the gargoyles and the wards. As soon as we hit the sidewalk, an SUV drives up, unleashing a hail of bullets from both passenger windows.
Fear makes me do an insane jump in front of Fox and Bellamy.
Bullets ricochet off my ward, flying off in all directions.
The slugs riddle everything around me with holes, including some of the gargoyles.
Their voices rise in volume, drowning out the rattatat of the gunfire.
After a burst of gunfire only a few seconds long, the SUV zooms away in a squeal of tires and reckless driving.
The gargoyles follow in a cloud of bat wings.
I would not want to be the guys who just shot up our gargoyles.
Fox grabs my shoulder hard. I turn, looking him over as fury ignites in my soul. His chest took several shots before I got in front of him, his arms bleed from a few more, but what pisses me off is the hole in his cheek and the shattered teeth visible under the blood.
I am so going to enjoy walking in when it’s Santanos’ time to die.
Bellamy, thank heavens, is fine, and he helps me get Fox back behind the ward around the brownstone and onto one of the kitchen tables.
Immortal or not, he’s losing a lot of blood.
Urgency to stop the bleeding moves me. I grab towels from the linen closet and bump my hip on every fucking corner of every fucking table between the hall and the kitchen.
When I get back, Bellamy has cut away Fox’s shirt and is halfway done with his pants.
I drop the towels on the table and grab the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink and finally am able to stop moving long enough to start assessing how to help him.
Fox gazes up at the ceiling, pain pinching his face as I pick the hole bleeding the most and pinch the skin together. The first ktchk of the stapler makes me tear up.
“What are you doing?” Bellamy demands, grabbing the gun out of my hand. “You need to make sure there’s an exit wound before closing the hole!”
“No,” Fox rasps, spitting blood with every slurred word. “Just close it. Don’t worry about the bullets.”
I take the stapler back and finish closing the first hole up.
“What if they’re blocking your arteries? They could give you a blood infection,” Bellamy argues, while putting pressure on some of the worst bleeds now that he’s denuded our patient.
“I’ll absorb the metal. Can’t get sick. Just close the wounds. There’s a surgical needle and floss in the first aid kit.” Fox reaches up and grabs my neck. “Gonna pass out now. Don’t. Worry.”
And with that, my man’s eyes roll up and he goes limp.
Dammit. Don’t tell your boyfriend not to worry when he’s literally stapling your flesh together. It’s just asking too much.
The thunderous crack of lightning outside startles me in the middle of pulling the trigger on the stapler and one of my staples goes wonky.
Ten minutes ago, the sky was clear and the day warm, and now buckets of rain pour down in sheets outside the kitchen window.
My next staple goes wonky because the front door unexpectedly slams open.
It’s a good thing Fox’s scars fade because this one is going to be weird.
No, I’m not taking the wonky staples out to try again; I’m barely hanging by a thread to get this much done.
“We’re here!” Tag calls as he and Fox’s other three fathers run into the kitchen. “Romily, give Dakota the stapler. Bellamy, give Amos the needle. Boys, go wash up. We’ll have Arlington fixed up before you get back,” he assures us, making sure we follow his orders and pushing us down the hall.
My stomach cramps at the thought of leaving Fox, but Tag walks me all the way to the master bathroom.
“Take a shower. Wash the blood off. Amos and Dakota will take care of Arlington. He’s not dying. I promise. A few bullets are not enough to kill him, and even if they were, that just makes it harder to kill him next time.”
What does that even mean?
I don’t have my phone, and I can’t ask, but Tag is smart. He kisses my forehead and murmurs into my skin, “We’ll explain later. Immortality can be difficult. Just know, he’s fine.”
I give a stiff nod and Tag leaves me in the bathroom, closing the door behind him on the way.
My hands shake as I attempt to undress, and it takes me a dozen tries to get a grip on my shirt long enough to pull it over my head.
My brain is stuck in some kind of dazed loop, feeding me images of Fox’s wounds and the pool of blood beneath him.
I trust his athair’s love for him; I know Fox is ok because Tag isn’t in panic mode, but I can’t stop the shaking.
Try as I might, I cannot get a grip on my jeans long enough to unbutton them, so I give up, collapsing onto the toilet lid. I grip my hair in my hands, sitting there for who knows how long before the bathroom door opens.
Bellamy crouches in front of me, clean with wet hair.
He looks at me with sympathy and pulls me to my feet.
Without filling the silence, he helps me out of my ruined clothes and into the shower.
He washes the blood off me and out of my hair and then hands me a clean towel before stepping out of the bathroom.
I dry myself off and follow him out. He’s put a pair of yoga pants on the bed and has one of Fox’s shirts in his hand. “Get dressed. Fox is fine. Apparently he’s immortal,” he teases with a soft smile.
He leaves me then, and I spend a minute pulling Fox’s clothes on before heading back toward the kitchen. The fathers waylay me, ushering me to the living room where Fox reclines on the sofa, cleanish, under a warm blanket, and pale but conscious.
I kneel next to him, frowning at him because he scared the shit out of me and I should never be in charge of first aid again. Clearly I do not do well with bullet holes and blood.
Fox puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a snugglehug. Don’t look at my word like that; it’s a valid description. I reserve the right to make up important words.
“Since Arlington traumatized you two, I’m going to explain about the immortality thing before we leave,” Tag says, pushing Bear into the recliner and sitting on his lap.
“I’m not traumatized,” Bellamy protests.
“You’re Oppa looked like he was dying; you’re traumatized,” Tag insists, waving off Bellamy’s protest.
I am definitely traumatized, but still sans phone, so all I do is snuggle into Fox a bit more.
Tag interrupts Bellamy’s next protest with his explanation.
“Immortality doesn’t preclude death. It makes us hard to kill, but we don’t start out that way.
In fact, one of the first things a new immortal should always do is die as many ways as possible.
We let Arlington grow up before we started letting him die, but I’ve known immortal parents that use the first years of life to kill their kids. ”
“And I thought my parents were bad,” Bellamy mutters, and I have to agree.
“It’s a kindness. The babies don’t remember dying when they’re older, but they’re protected from the worst ways to go.
Think of it like getting a vaccine. There are only so many ways to die and an immortal can only be killed once by any method.
Once you’ve been beheaded, you can never be beheaded again,” Bear explains.
“Which is why most parents do the worst ways to die when their child won’t remember it,” Amos adds, shooting a disapproving frown at Tag.
“I couldn’t kill my baby, and we have the advantage of a telepathic link, so any time Fox dies, we know it and can come put him back together again,” Tag growls at his mate? Husband? Partner? At Amos.
“I died by firing squad in the late 1800s, so I wasn’t going to die today,” Fox mumbles.
“And even when he does, Arlington only stays dead for a few seconds unless he’s dismembered.
We have to put the pieces back together if he dies by losing his parts.
Which is why we made sure he was dismembered in a controlled environment,” Bear says, squeezing Tag in a hug that looks like it’s to comfort the blue haired Fae; Tag’s sympathetic smile says it’s more for his partner’s comfort.
“The closest I’ve ever come to permanent death was when I was blown up.
I would truly be dead if Pater didn’t have a good rapport with the hellhounds.
It took three of them a week to find enough of me to resurrect,” Fox adds, wincing a little at the tightness from the stitching holding his face together.
The mumbling doesn’t help his defense since I know it’s the result of missing teeth and, you know, the whole bullet through the face thing.
“The point is, even if I die, you know it’s temporary and I can’t be killed that way again. ”
I give him a flat expression, communicating as intensely as I can that it really doesn’t make the close calls any less scary and that I am not cut out for first aid to bullet holes.
I can watch, but I’ll need a lot more practice to have stable hands for that shit, or better yet, he could just avoid getting hurt bad enough that he can’t administer his own first aid.
Fox’s eyes soften with affection, and he kisses my temple. “You’re ruining the badass reputation of Harbingers everywhere by pouting.”
I gasp at the insinuation that I should aim to do anything less than set the standard for the reputation for all Harbingers everywhere.
Besides, exactly how badass can a Harbinger be when our magic only works if we’re non-violent?
Dammit. Now I need to meet these allegedly badass Harbingers that came before me.
I huff in frustration and make grabby hands to anyone with a device on them.
Amos tries to hand me a notebook and pen he pulls out of the front pocket of his nerd shirt. I flatten my lips at him and narrow my eyes, taking the damn writing tools. I point two fingers at my eyes, turn them to his eyes, then point to the paper.
My handwriting looks like a preschooler’s as I scribble, Does this seem like a good idea now???
Amos’ black eyes widen, and he takes the notebook back, replacing it with his phone with the notes app up. “Apologies, Harbinger.”
I take the notepad back and point it around the room so everyone can see that I should never be allowed to actually write words by hand. I point to the notebook and then give everyone a warning glare and shake my head.
I get a hilarious number of mute nods in return.
How badass could your previous Harbingers have been if I’m the current one?
I heard they all quit on you, and we both know I’m so deeply committed we’re already planning our wedding.
Well, Tag and that wedding planner are/will be.
I think what you meant to say was that I’m setting the bar so high, every Harbinger that has ever come before me is weeping, knowing they will never achieve such greatness.
Fox blinks at the message, the corners of his lips turned up. “That’s what I said,” he agrees.
Tag sighs, drawing our attention to his sappy smile as Bellamy complains, “Are you going to let the rest of us in on the joke?”
I give him a bright smile and type out a message to him.
You can be my flower boy!
Bellamy scowls at the phone before his expression clears as he hands it back. “I’ll be sure to let the cherubs know that you’re passing them over for me.”
Noooo! That’s just manipulative and mean! Now I need the cherubs to be my flower throwers and ring bearers!
“What’s he saying?” Bear asks, pushing Tag to grab the phone.
Dakota stomps down the hall, not angrily; he’s just so big that stomping is in natural gait. “I’ll get his phone so he can just group message us,” he throws over his shoulder.
My heart settles into a happy beat, I’ve never had people committed to hearing me like this. I’m amazed at and love this family for wanting to know my words even though I can’t speak them.