Straight To Hell #2
The kitchen is cooler than the bedroom, and not just because I’m not covered in animals and demons.
I shuffle to the coffee pot while the others trail behind.
Javi rides my shoulder, a little ember shed every time he flicks a wing, singing holes in my tank top.
His claws are digging into my skin, but somehow, it doesn’t hurt as much as it should and the pain sharpens my mind.
I do enjoy a slice of it occasionally, and this fills that gap nicely.
Archie pads in after us still in lion form, his huge head ducked and eyes fixed on the tile.
Damon and Angelo head for the stove and the cabinets to get the food cooking and the table set.
There’s a weird domestication in all this that comforts me a bit as I try not to think about Rebel being tortured or hurt somewhere.
I pour four mugs of their fancy-ass rich people coffee and add Fae energy potion to mine. Damon pours sugar in his until it’s barely coffee at all. Angelo spikes his with something from a flask that definitely isn’t Kahlua, and Archie just sniffs at us as we caffeinate.
Glaring at the big feline, I ask, “Are you planning to spend the rest of your life as a throw rug, or do you want to use words again?”
He blinks at me, then at the others, his tail thumping the floor.
Damon leans forward, chin propped on his hands, and says, “You’ll have to use the ‘boss lady’ command again, I fear.”
“The boss lady command?” I echo, and the nerdy twin grins at me.
“Alpha. Princess. Girl boss. Pick your poison,” he says.
“Never ‘girl boss’, D, or I’ll make you suffer in non-fun ways. Fine, I’ll do it.” I roll my eyes and growl at the lion, “Shift. Now.”
There’s a ripple in the air and the hum of magic.
Archie’s fur contracts, shudders, and then collapses inward.
For a second he’s a fuzzball, then a heap of muscle, and then he’s Archer Glaser again—all six plus feet of blond bruiser—bare-assed in the kitchen and completely unbothered.
His body is still mapped with the fresh pink scars from the explosion, but all the wounds are closed, the bruises gone.
Thank fuck for that.
He stretches up on his toes, and for a second I’m not the only one admiring the spectacle. Damon gives a low whistle and Archie actually purrs, the sound weird in his human form. Grinning, our no longer feline friend flexes his arms behind his head.
“That’s more like it,” he says, and gives me a salute. “Good to see you awake, Wheels. Looking hot as always.”
I try to ignore the heat crawling up my neck. “Get some damn clothes, puck boy, and then you’ll get your coffee and food.”
He winks, loping off to the laundry alcove.
The rest of us watch him go, and Damon says, “You know he only listens to you, right? At least, the lion part. The human is a good boy for me, but that cat is allll you, Sparkles.”
“If he wants to be a good boy, he needs to listen to both of us in all forms,” I say as I sip my brew. “Otherwise, he’s being a brat and that’s completely different.”
Javi starts pecking at my earlobe. I reach up and rub the soft down behind his head, and for the first time all morning he stops squawking. “He’s getting less hideous,” I say.
Angelo goes to the counter and returns with a small wire perch, complete with a plastic tray for droppings.
“They told us we need these in every room so he doesn’t shit on the furniture,” he explains, setting it up beside my place at the table.
“The nest his parents demanded in the bedroom went ignored because he wanted to be with all of us, so hopefully this isn’t a wash, too. ”
I snort. “The Kings don’t know their son very well, do they? He was never going to leave the rest of us for some birdy bed.”
Angelo shrugs, pours himself more coffee. “New offspring stay in the nest until they’re grown, according to them. But our Javi marches to the beat of his own drum, and I hope that means he’ll grow faster than they suggested as well.”
I look at Javi, who seems to be mulling this over. “No offense, but I think he’d rather incinerate shit his parents suggest rather than use it. He’s not fond of their ‘traditions’ and elitist shit.”
“Exactly,” Damon says, lifting his mug. “Which is why he fits right in with us, because only Archie doesn’t hate his parents. The rest of us hope they all fuck off into eternity.”
Javier hops onto the perch, then glares at us all, daring us to say something. I guess he realizes that he shouldn’t be at the table while we eat, but isn’t happy about it.
Archie comes back in, t-shirt stretched tight across his chest and his shorts hanging so low it’s barely decent. He pours half a box of cereal into a mixing bowl and starts shoveling it in, stopping only to chug a liter of milk straight from the carton.
I guess that’s one way to start refilling your tank, but it’s an infinitely male one.
Nursing my coffee, I watch my new family. Damon and Angelo quietly making our breakfast, their wings folded tight to their backs as they work. Archie eating like he’s fueling up for a prize fight, while Javi grooms himself on the perch.
For a second it almost feels safe, but that’s not reality, especially with Rebel missing. I clear my throat. “D, if I’ve been out for two days, you should have some results. What’s the story with the blast site evidence?”
The younger twin doesn’t answer right away. Instead he takes a long, slow sip, then sets his mug down and folds his hands in front of him. “The samples we brought home are weird. Whoever did this has access to some heavy, old-school shit.”
“How old-school?” I ask.
“Like Astral, Legendary, Godly, or Galactic realms old-school. None of this is found in the known ones according to our analysis.”
“You’re not joking?” I say hopefully, despite knowing he wouldn’t do that with Reb waiting for our rescue. “It’s really not even Fae or dragon or whatever?”
Damon shakes his head. “I wish. The residue didn’t react to anything I tested. Whatever they used to make the crystal, the pedestal, and the blob, it’s not from this world.”
Archie stops mid-chew, his head tilted curiously. “What does that mean for us?”
Angelo leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “It means whoever took Rebel knew what they were doing, and it means they wanted us to know it.”
I set my mug down, fingers tapping the rim. “They’re trying to get us to make a mistake. Taking him and finding this stuff was certain to stop our current progress, right?”
Damon nods. “That’s their game, but we don’t have to play by their rules.”
The room goes quiet for a second, the only sound is the ticking of the wall clock and the soft scratch of Javi’s claws on his perch.
It feels awful, but I know what we need to do.
I take a deep breath and push back from the table. “We have to go to Hell without Rebel. This is a distraction and they knew we’d derail our plans to go if they snatched one of us.”
“Are you okay with that?” Angelo asks, cocking a brow. “Leaving him while we take a short hike to my homeland to sleuth?”
I glance at Javi, who’s watching me with unblinking eyes. “No, but I’m not okay with Javier being a baby bird or Archie almost dying, either. I didn’t ever want to go into Fae-sleep again, nor do I want to inform Luca and Lola that they most certainly have a leak in their house.”
Damon stands, his wings flexing as he frowns. “We’re telling them?”
“We have to. That’s how they knew to hit us and why it was so sudden and in public,” I say. “This was meant to keep us away from Hell; I feel it in my gut.”
Archie grins. “We should definitely disappoint whoever the fuck it is. They could have fucked up my whole career with that shit. I’m lucky to be mated to a bunch of badasses with magical blood.”
“Focus, babe,” Damon says as he winks at him. “We can’t get distracted again now that we’re going down there. People from the other realms don’t get how different Hell is from here or Faerie. It’s… worse than Luca’s funhouse at the Apalachin, but also… oddly familiar in some ways?”
“Let’s get moving then,” I say as I look at my men seriously. “We need to get in, snoop around, see our new friends and exchange info, then get out. Rebel is waiting for us—somewhere.”