Chapter 22
twenty-two
MERRILY
I woke up to Kat calling out, "They’re waking up! Get up, Liv!"
I forced myself to a sitting position. Grayson’s shadows were still wrapped around me so thickly that my overwhelm was barely a blip on the radar.
I followed a stumbling Liv into the kitchen.
Kat was up early every day, so I was entirely unsurprised that she and Callum were awake and in the kitchen with Grayson.
Or that he was cooking for me.
Waffles, this time.
I followed my nose directly to his side, nearly drooling when I watched him pull a perfectly-crisp, golden waffle off an iron and shoot me a charming, sleepy smile.
"Good morning, Love."
"You make waffles too?" I mumbled.
"Yup. They might not be a favorite, but I figured if you like pancakes, you’re probably a fan of them too."
"Fate loves me," I breathed, watching him pour homemade syrup over the ridges of the glorious breakfast food. "You're perfect."
"Fate loves all of us," Kat said over a mouthful of waffles. "You should keep him."
"I was planning on it."
Grayson kissed me lightly before he gave me the plate. Instead of taking it, I stepped closer. He slipped an arm around my waist, and I pressed myself against him for a quick hug.
"Thank you."
"Any time."
"What the fuck?" Jonah choked out on the other side of our camera, the sound a little bit fuzzy.
Liv's grin was both gleeful and wicked at the same time.
Kat sighed. “I can’t watch this.”
Callum handed her a pair of headphones that had been sitting on the table, across from the laptop she was working from.
I took my plate over and sat next to Liv. We watched closely as Gwen sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her blonde curls stayed on the pillow, and her head was now completely bald.
God, we were brutal.
I fucking loved it.
"Shit. Holy shit. What happened?" Jonah asked, looking in horror from his woman to the pillow.
"What?" Gwen murmured, rubbing her eyes and lifting a hand to push her curls away from her face. Her hand went still when she didn't find her hair.
Liv snorted. “Their eyebrows are gone too. Damn, we're good."
Kat put her headphones on, squeezing her eyes shut as she grimaced.
At least someone in our family had a conscience. We needed one hinged person.
Gwen’s eyes went bigger and rounder as her hand kept traveling upward.
"Has she cried yet?" Dare mumbled, plopping down on the kitchen floor behind our chairs.
"Soon," Liv promised.
"Oh my god," Gwen breathed, as her hand slid over her very bald head. "Oh my god!" she screeched.
Finally, she looked down at the pillow and saw those gorgeous golden curls… no longer attached to her head.
She screamed bloody-murder, picking the strands up. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and tears started rolling down her cheeks as she went through the hair with shaking fingers.
I would've felt bad, but she had betrayed Kat. And worked with Jonah to basically con Liv into thinking they were friends so they could manipulate her into bargaining with them.
Gwen was only still alive because she was related to Kat by blood.
Finally, she stumbled off the bed and ran for the bathroom, disappearing from our line of sight.
Jonah looked sick as he grabbed the water glass off his nightstand and drained all of the liquid.
"Say goodbye to your cock for the next few months," Dare muttered.
Liv reached her fist behind the chair without turning around, and Dare fist-bumped her.
"That’s what you get for fucking with fae," Liv declared, as Gwen walked back to the bed looking somewhere between dazed and horrified. There were tears dripping down her face, but I didn’t feel particularly bad for her.
If she was going to mistreat people, she was going to pay for it. With her hair, in this case.
Honestly, she was lucky we didn’t take more.
Jonah’s suffering was going to be a lot more psychological, for both of them.
"Why did this happen? Someone must've done this, right?" Gwen breathed. "Do you think it was the fae?"
"No. Liv still thinks our friendship was genuine, and Kat wouldn’t let Callum do it."
"I don’t think Liv is sold on the friendship."
"Niall’s the one who hates us. I’d still be running with her every morning if she hadn’t gotten back with him," Jonah said with a grimace.
"Fucker," Liv growled, lifting her middle finger toward the phone’s screen.
"It was probably the demons," Gwen said, wiping her eyes. "I’m sure Grayson heard that you and I sealed our mate bond a few days ago. I’m sure that's the only reason he mated with Merrily."
"Fuck that," Grayson called from the kitchen.
"Fuck werewolves," Liv tossed back. Then glanced at Kat. "No offense. You’re the exception."
Kat’s lips curved upward just the tiniest bit. She could definitely hear despite the headphones.
"You guys are going to land them in therapy together," Kat said.
"Then we’ve done them a favor.” Liv leaned her chair back. "Their relationship will be stronger if it survives a few months of erectile dysfunction and a head that bald."
"I’ve already let all of the spellcasters know that I’ll pay exceptionally well if anyone gives her something that makes the baldness last longer," Callum added.
Kat swatted his arm half-heartedly.
Callum flashed her a look. "She fucked you over to the point where you needed to bargain with me. Long-lasting hair loss is far better than the consequence would've been if she was anyone else."
He wasn’t kidding.
Anyone else would’ve been tortured and killed before Kat even knew she was his.
We all ate waffles and watched the video feed until Gwen called Larson—Niall’s brother, of all people—to ask for help growing her hair back.
Liv’s cackle as she picked up the phone to call her brother-in-law was loud enough to make all of us grin.
They’d be going back to Lars for help escaping the erectile dysfunction pill soon enough, too.
Guess they should've made better choices.
My family was gone by eight AM. Since we were already so far from Grayson’s current workplace, he let the vampire politicians know he would join them after lunch. We loaded my car with my things, then headed out to find Ophelia.
Grayson held my hand through the drive. His grip tightened more throughout the time it took to get there.
I tried to send calm vibes through the bond to counter the worry and hope he was battling. We talked about a schedule for the next few weeks, too, and it seemed to ground him a little.
I didn’t know if the calm vibes would help, but figured it was worth a try.
When he parked in front of Ophelia’s little house, Grayson let out a harsh breath.
"It’s going to be okay," I murmured.
"I know. This is just my last option," he admitted.
I squeezed his hand. "She’s going to help. Trust me."
"I do." The admission was quiet, but honest. He breathed out again. "Alright. Let’s get this over with."
"That’s the spirit," I teased.
"After hanging out with your family, I think I’m even less hinged than usual."
"Aren’t we all?"
His reluctant grin made my smile wider.
We slipped out of the car, and he recaptured my hand while we walked up to the door.
Ophelia's yard was full of overgrown plants, bushes, and weeds. The tree that had been there at some point looked like it must've snapped in half somehow, because the top half was tangled in one of the bushes, and the jagged-looking trunk remained where it was.
"Are you sure she's here?" Grayson asked me, as we made our way around the thick, wild mess of plants in an attempt to find the path to the front door.
"No, but we'll come back another time if she isn't. She doesn't do phones, so this is our best chance."
"How does angel magic work?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I've never heard an explanation. They're even more secretive than fae.”
"So we're going in blind?"
"Not completely. Ophelia and I are acquaintances. She asked me to kill someone for her once, without a bargain, and I did it."
"You killed an angel?"
"I don't know what he was. I would guess he was an angel, but there was no evidence in any direction. She was in bad shape when she found me, and I knew enough of her to be sure that if she could kill him herself, she would've. She built the prison, afterward."
"Huh." Grayson sounded a little uncertain. "Your life is crazier than mine. You know that, right?"
I flashed him a smile. "I know. I don't need more insanity. You've been around my family."
"Yeah."
"The real question is if you can handle my brand of crazy, Darke."
"You know I can take you, Love."
I bit back a laugh at the innuendo.
We finally made it to the front door. The plants had been invading the walkway, but Grayson lifted the wild branches and leaves out of our way.
They would've started drooping as my magic drained them when they brushed my skin, if he hadn't.
Grayson knocked on the door. There was a solid minute of silence before it was flung open, and I came face-to-face with Ophelia.
She was average height and size, with light skin, flushed cheeks, and choppy, wild brown hair that fell to her collarbone. All she wore was a gray sports bra and a pair of jean overalls that were cropped into shorts on the bottom.
Her clothes and skin were covered in clay and clay dust, some of which was wet, and some of which was so dry there was no way to know how long it had been there.
"Oh. Merrily. Hi." Ophelia pushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand, accidentally coating the strands of hair with a little bit of wet clay.
She looked at Grayson, but seemed to decide against greeting him as she looked back at me. "You got that thank you card I sent a while back, right?"
"I don't remember a thank you card, but that's not—"
She disappeared from the doorway. I heard water turn on somewhere in her house. A faucet, maybe.
"Well then," I murmured, peeking into the building.
It wasn't large, and there was barely any furniture that I could see. Mainly just shelves that were loaded to the brim with pottery in various shapes and sizes, some of them glazed and some not.
"I think it's in here somewhere," Ophelia yelled from the other room. "Just a minute!"
"Do people often send you thank you cards for murdering their enemies?" Grayson asked, sounding amused.
"Not usually, but Ophelia is… unique."
We waited in the doorway for a solid five minutes, exchanging smiles that we were trying to suppress as our amusement grew by the moment. We could hear Ophelia rummaging through something in another room.
She huffed in frustration before she eventually came striding back to the door.
"Okay, I have no idea where I put that. I don't want to owe you anything, so come in and choose a piece from any of those shelves.
" She opened the door wider, gesturing for us to go in, and pointing toward a row of shelves that went along an entire wall of her mostly-empty living room.
"I wouldn't touch anything on the other side if I were you. "
We stepped inside, but I didn't go for the shelves.
"I don't need any pottery," I said, giving her a quick smile. "You don't owe me anything, either. I actually wanted to ask you something. We did. This is my mate, Grayson Darke."
Ophelia's gaze flicked back to Grayson for a moment before she refocused on me. "Your soul bond is pretty hard to miss. You basically glow. I don't do favors or bargains.”
"It's not really a favor. It's kind of a question, about the prison," I explained.
Ophelia relaxed. "Oh. Well, you can ask, but my magic takes on life of its own after it's been created. I don't control the penitentiary."
"Right. Well, some of the demons actually figured out a loophole in the way you established the magic relating to how we put prisoners inside.
They used that loophole to lock two innocent demons away about eleven years ago.
The vampire king, Dante, and the siren queen, Jasmine.
We haven't been able to figure out a way to get them free. "
Ophelia stared at me, the redness in her cheeks slowly leeching away as her light skin went a ghastly pale shade. Grayson put a hand on my hip lightly, but I could feel his caution through the bond.
"Someone weaponized my prison?" Her voice was low. Dangerous, too.
"Yes."
Ophelia took a long breath in, and let it down slowly. Her hand went through her hair, and I tried not to notice the streaks of wet clay she quietly pushed deeper into the strands. Something told me that was going to be difficult to get out.
Her gaze lifted to Grayson's. "You know the demons?"
"I do. They're my family."
"What part of the prison did they get put in?"
The upper portion could host visitors, and it was easier to send someone there. After a few decades, they had a chance of getting out, as well.
The lower portion was much different.
"The bottom."
"Fuck.” She sighed. “I’ll get them out. It's going to take time, though."
"You have all the time you need. Thank you." My words were genuine, and my gratitude was too.
She nodded, then held up a finger.
My gaze tracked her across the room. I watched as she picked out two extremely different pieces of pottery from opposite sides of the completely disorganized shelves.
One was a simple, colorful bowl with wild, interesting shapes painted on it. The other was a neutral, two-toned vase with a sweeping, unique shape.
"Here. These will bring you... luck... while you wait. Don't sell them." Her warning was sharp, despite the unconvincing way she'd said luck. She placed one in each of our arms, giving me the vase and Grayson the bowl.
"Thank you." Grayson's voice was low.
I could feel his rushing emotions. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but I knew Ophelia well enough to be damn sure that if she said she was going to get someone out, she would. Even if it took a hundred years.
Of course, I really hoped it wouldn't take that long.
"Sure. Alright, leave." She waved us toward the door.
We made our way out, careful not to knock over any of the pottery as we went.
Neither of us said a word on our way back to the car—and when we reached it, Grayson simply pinned me to the driver's side door, and kissed me.
Deeply.
"Thank you so fucking much." The emotions swirling in his chest leaked through the bond in a way I knew he couldn't control.
"You can thank me when she gets them out. Because she will."
He kissed me again, just as passionately.
Then he took me to lunch, leaving the vampires to deal with their own shit without his help for just a little longer.