Chapter 73 Danica #3
Bryn lets out a low whistle. "Even Thor's hammer isn't quite so... impressive."
I choke on my drink, sputtering. "Holy shit, that's not a dick, that's a lethal weapon! You've actually taken that, you ambitious ho?"
"Jesus—hell—no." Emily cackles, gaining wandering eyes from three tables over.
"What do you think I am, a size queen with a death wish?
My va-jay jay doesn't have magical expanding properties just because I date a demon.
" She takes a smug sip of her water. "Although I did try once—purely for science, you understand—and let's just say the safe word got deployed faster than a paratrooper from a burning plane. "
"Actually..." Sable taps her chin thoughtfully, "there might be a spell for that. I've come across some in my grandmother's grimoire with enchantments for magical... expansion."
Our heads whip around so fast my neck pops.
Oww.
"What?" She shrugs at our collective stares. "It's basic mystical anatomy modification. Totally doable."
The mental image alone is killing me—like some supernatural vaginal stretching infomercial.
But wait, there's more!
"Hold up," Emily straightens, her expression suddenly serious as a heart attack. "You're telling me there's actual magical coochie-stretching spells?"
Oh god. I know that look. That's her 'I'm about to do something spectacularly stupid' face.
"No," I point my fork at her. "Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it. Your lady bits will thank you."
"But—"
"The answer is still no, even if you're about to say 'for science.'"
"It's not exclusively for..." Sable waves her hand vaguely at our pelvic regions, "...accommodating demon—"
The sudden appearance of our waiter materializing beside our table cuts her off mid-sentence.
We all straighten up, conversation dying instantly as we plaster on polite smiles.
He sets down our drinks with practiced precision, oblivious to the mystical vaginal expansion discussion he just interrupted.
"Are you ready to order?" he asks, pen poised over the notepad.
"Not quite yet," I flash him my best nothing-inappropriate-happening-here smile. "Could we have a few more minutes?"
He nods, professional and mercifully unaware. "Take your time, ladies. I'll check back shortly." His footsteps fade into the restaurant's ambient noise.
The moment he's safely out of earshot, Emily leans forward, picking up exactly where we left off without missing a beat. "Dick?" she supplies helpfully, her tone suggesting she's simply completing a crossword puzzle rather than discussing supernatural genitalia.
Sable continues, ignoring her foul mouth— "The grimoire covers all sorts of anatomical enhancements: healing, flexibility, resilience—even restoring things that were... lost. It's actually quite fascinating from a magical medicine perspective."
"So what you're saying is," Emily grins, "it's basically mystical Botox for your bits and a full-body tune-up?"
Bryn eyes her crimson drink suspiciously, nostrils flaring as she conducts a warrior's assessment. When she finally braves a sip, her eyes flash with unexpected pleasure.
"By the AllFather," she murmurs, staring at the glass with newfound respect, "the Midgardians have crafted battle-worthy spirits."
Sable shrugs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Most witches use it for... recreational purposes. But technically, it's ancient healing magic."
I snort into my drink. Trust my best friend to turn ancient healing magic into a freaking spa package.
Girls' day out with my two favorite witches, my Valkyrie sister and my guardian angel—where else can you have lunch conversations about vagina-stretching spells and horse-sized demon dicks?
Fucking nowhere, that's where. Life is good, even if it's batshit crazy.
"Well, hello, darlings."
That silky voice slithers down my spine like ice water. My stomach drops as we all snap our heads up to find Lilith standing at our table, wearing her signature red-soled Louboutins and a smile that would make Satan himself check his back for knives.
There goes my perfect spa day, shot straight to hell by the Queen Bitch herself.
"I simply had to come say hello." Lilith's says with artificial sweetness.. "What an absolute coincidence finding you girls here. Divine timing, wouldn't you say?"
Our table freezes like someone hit pause on reality. Seraphina's knuckles whiten around her virgin pina colada, her eyes blazing with fury. The last time she encountered Lilith, she almost destroyed her wings—tormenting her.
Wait—daylight streams through the windows, bathing the restaurant in the afternoon glow. How the fuck is Lilith standing here without bursting into flames?
My fingers twitch with the urge to unleash hell on her bougie ass, but families surround us—laughing kids, oblivious tourists, a couple celebrating their anniversary. I can't exactly go nuclear in the middle of Ray's Boathouse without collateral damage.
The stones in my crown vibrate against my skull, responding to my rage like a tuning fork. Outside, storm clouds gather with unnatural speed, transforming Seattle's gray-snowy sky into a threatening canvas of slate and charcoal. The wind whips the water's surface into white-capped fury.
Shit. Calm down, Dani. Don't turn this waterfront restaurant into ground zero for a hurricane because this bitch crashed your girls' day.
"What the hell do you want?" I manage through clenched teeth.
Lilith examines her blood-red manicure with exaggerated interest. "Oh, darling," she sighs as if I'm a particularly slow child. "I assumed you'd be thrilled to see an old friend. I went to such trouble arranging this little reunion."
Old friend? Is she fucking high? Does this psychotic couture nightmare think we're on speaking terms after everything she's done?
She snaps her fingers—actually snaps them like I'm the help—but gestures behind her. "Come along, don't be shy."
She's more unhinged than—
A man steps into view beside her, and everything stops. The restaurant noise fades to nothing—my heartbeat thunders in my ears.
Dark hair. Familiar eyes. The same scholarly face that once betrayed us all.
My lungs forget how to function. My throat closes. The world tilts sideways.
No. Impossible. I watched him die. Azrael ripped his heart out—
"Adrian?"