Chapter Four #2
He was well aware that the magical source could have forced the issue, but thankfully, the powers that be had decided to respect his wishes.
At least, for now.
His friends might have understood his neutral stance, but they were less accepting of his lack of participation.
Lucifer continued to treat him as a trusted advisor, seeking him out for advice on his various schemes.
Castiel was still one of the only people who could make the King of Hell see reason, and he’d certainly had to talk him out of doing some pretty crazy shit over the years.
Back when Killian had created the Guardians of the Underworld, Castiel had initially refused.
That didn’t stop Killian from asking him for help making sure the supernaturals living in the Human Realm remained in check.
The Guardians also made sure the supernatural community stayed a secret from the general populace.
Humans might not have magic, but they had the masses, weapons, and a talent for fear that could turn into violence in the blink of an eye.
Given the chance, they would hunt what they didn’t understand.
So, Killian and those who worked alongside him quietly buried evidence, silenced rumors, and erased loose ends before they could become headlines.
It wasn’t about underestimating humanity.
It was about respecting how dangerous they could be when cornered, manipulated, or tempted.
While most humans went through their lives blissfully unaware that the Guardians existed, in the supernatural community, their name carried weight.
They were spoken of in the same breath as oaths and warnings.
People admired them for keeping predators in line, and feared them for what happened to those who crossed the line anyway.
Some supernaturals treated them like necessary monsters.
Others saw them as the only thing standing between fragile peace and total chaos.
The Supernatural Council was wise enough not to interfere in their business, and even the gods thought twice before starting trouble in the Human Realm because of them.
Killian didn’t mind the notoriety one bit.
If people feared them, good. If they respected them, even better.
In his opinion, the reputation of the Guardians was well earned.
While their cause was just, Castiel hadn’t wanted to join.
That didn’t stop the Guardians from treating him like he was one of them since Killian flat-out told people he was one of the founders.
The cheeky bastard.
Castiel liked to pretend that it was mostly his brain they were after, but they had a deep, abiding friendship that had lasted longer than most people had been alive.
His friends wanted to stop him from simply disappearing into some unknown corner of the universe one day, so he could live out the rest of his existence alone.
They wanted to include him in their lives and to force him to remain an active member of society.
He both loved and hated them for that.
The two dark gods at the table were trying very hard to appear nonchalant, which was never a good sign of things to come. He remained patient, though. They would end up telling him everything as soon as they were ready. He knew that from experience as well.
Although the cool breeze didn’t bother him, he wore a black leather coat over his black T-shirt and jeans. His bare arms would have garnered more attention without the cover on the walk over, since he had two full sleeves of tattoos. Particularly since they weren’t normal tattoos.
Years ago, he had rescued a couple of wolves during a brief stay in Russia.
The two cubs had been left behind after the rest of their pack had been killed by hunters.
He’d considered leaving them, but their pitiful cries had been enough to stir his sympathy.
Raising them had been a pain in the ass at first, but the bond he had formed with them was undeniable.
Over the years, Ash and Myst had been loyal companions.
In fact, he had gotten so attached to them that he ended up breaking his own rule and extending their lives by claiming them as familiars.
Naturally, it had been by mutual agreement.
The wolves had wanted to remain with him just as much as he wanted to keep them.
Ash and Myst liked to hang out on his arms most of the time, covering the entire length from his wrists to his shoulders.
They claimed they had the best view of their surroundings there.
They only materialized at home when Castiel called to them or if he was in danger.
Otherwise, the wolves spent their days sleeping and being lazy.
“Can you release Myst and Ash for a little while? Please? I prepared a special meal for them.”
At her request, Castiel glanced over at Killian’s pretty mate.
Seneca had been a witch born with exceptional luck before she had been murdered by someone who had wanted to steal it from her.
A strange twist of fate had given her a second chance at life.
Well, that wasn’t completely accurate. Braxton Lightbringer, Prince of Hell, God of Souls, and Death of the Four Horsemen, sent her soul back.
Once she had been reborn, she had met Killian, and together, they had gotten revenge for everything she had suffered during her first life.
Seeing them together warmed Castiel’s cynical heart.
He was pleased to see his old friend so blissfully happy, and he found himself charmed by Seneca’s cheerful personality.
She had grown quite fond of his wolves, and every time he visited, she begged him to release them so she could play with them.
His skin felt tight as the wolves shifted on his arm, a silent plea to be let down.
With an exaggerated sigh, he released them.
They came off his arms in streams of dark gray smoke, materializing into two enormous wolves.
Tails wagging, they bounded over to Seneca, who gave them all the strokes and pats they wanted.
“You spoil them,” he accused.
“They deserve to be spoiled,” Seneca cooed, not even bothering to glance over at him. “Come on, babies. Let’s go feed you some good stuff.”
The wolves glanced back at him for permission. With a nod, he said, “Go ahead. No use pretending to be polite.”
Myst’s sent him a canine smirk, while Ash’s licked his lips in anticipation.
“I’m going to have to get her a familiar soon,” Killian said with a sigh as he watched the wolves prance after his mate.
Seneca’s pale blonde ponytail almost gleamed silver in the sunlight as she led the large gray wolves over to where she had placed large bowls on the other side of the terrace.
Dressed in a high-neck, white sundress with cap sleeves and tiny black skull buttons down the front, mile-high heels, and fingerless black lace gloves, she looked like she was attending a goth garden party instead of a casual lunch.
Her mate was just as overdressed in a crisp white dress shirt and a perfectly tailored gray three-piece suit. The two of them always looked like they were stepping off a runway, even when they were just hanging out at home. While Castiel thought it was slightly odd, it seemed to work for them.
“She says the parasol is enough, but we could use a few more pets around here,” Killian said.
Castiel scoffed at that. Since the parasol he mentioned was actually an ancient relic whose true form was a legendary sword, it was a little ridiculous to call it a pet. Then again, having two magical wolf familiars he wore on his body most of the time wasn’t exactly normal either.
“I can get you some hellhounds,” Lucifer offered.
Usually, the King of Hell changed his hair and eye color depending on his moods, and today was no exception.
His black hair was streaked with pink and red strands, and his glowing eyes swirled black and pink like strange pinwheels.
The black robes he wore had pretty cherry blossoms running down one side, and his combat boots were a bright cherry red.
“No hellhounds,” Killian denied. “Even though she has reaper powers now, she is still mostly human at heart.”
“So was my daughter,” Lucifer countered. “And Devon loves the hellhound I gave her.”
“I remember first meeting Snix when Braxton and Devon shoved my soul into their cat back when I was dead.” Seneca shivered as she sat back down at the table. “God, saying stuff like that still weirds me out.”
Killian pulled her chair closer so he could wrap his arm around her. “That’s okay, mate. Your soul is back where it belongs now.”
Tired of waiting, Castiel used his magic to select what he wanted from the platters of food. Once his plate was filled, he began eating. As always, the food was delicious, but he grew even more suspicious about the setup since they had carefully prepared some of his favorites.
Following suit, Lucifer also began filling his plate. “So, how has everything been going with the reapers? Any good stories? Has Xara killed anyone else lately? Was it as bloody as last time?”
Seneca choked on the sip of wine she’d just taken. “Please, we are eating here.”
Lucifer just chuckled in response.
After the reapers were finally freed from their enchanted slumber, most of them chose to remain in the Hell Realm.
It was familiar territory, and for many of them, it felt safer to rebuild where their powers and influence were strongest. Some wanted distance from the past, so they decided to travel to the Human Realm to learn how to exist in a world that had raced forward without them.
No matter where they decided to stay, many of them were having difficulties acclimating to modern life. Some had to deal with ancient grudges, while others had to face new betrayals. And then there were the pissed-off, powerful powder kegs who could be set off at any moment.