Chapter 24 – Hellion
They weren’t finding anything. Absolutely nothing. There was no record of Wayla Stormwell, but there was one for Wayla Spinwell. One so well-crafted that Hellion hadn’t been able to break it even when he knew it was fake.
Hellion had reached out to his contacts, but so far, they hadn’t heard anything back. Marc hadn’t had any luck with his channels either, not that either of them had expected otherwise. Information gathering wasn’t Marc’s strong suit.
The whole house was tense. Jarred was out somewhere, Grant was sulking, Zahir was still recovering, and Sinister was in one of his moods. Hellion had been ready to kick his ass in training until he got a text and finally fucking relaxed a bit.
Still, there was an uneasy feeling of things hanging in balance. Hellion grumbled as he stared at the empty coffeepot. “Why’s the coffee always gone?”
“’Coz you drink it,” Grant snapped.
“What crawled up your ass?” Hellion growled back.
“You idiots.”
“Wh—”
The doorbell ringing cut Hellion off. He frowned. It was late, so who the fuck—
“Aren’t you going to open the door?”
“No,” Hellion replied. Sure, he was feeling petulant, but so what? Someone else would open it. Once he heard Hazard moving into the foyer, he lifted a brow at Grant, who just snorted. The air in the house shifted and Hellion spun on his heel, bracing, just as Hazard led a demon in.
“Prince Marchellion Burningstar,” the demon greeted him formally, and Hellion fought hard to keep his face passive. No one called him by that name at the Academy.
“Lord Esserieh Brokenstar,” he greeted his father’s right-hand male and long-time lover.
It paid to be courteous to Esserieh. The male had no tolerance for disrespect, jokes, or back talk.
He was one mean fucker and rarely left the Hell Realm.
The fact that he was here now didn’t bode well.
It was like his black form and gleaming horns sucked all the air and light out of the room without him even trying.
When the silence continued, Hellion cleared his throat. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I’m here to deliver a message,” the demon said, his tone cold.
“For who?”
Esserieh looked like he wanted to smack the back of Hellion’s head like he had done plenty of times when he was growing up.
“You, Marchellion.”
“Had to make sure,” Hellion muttered. “Shoot.”
“Stop looking.”
“What?” Now he was completely baffled. Grant was leaning forward, looking intrigued. Hazard just looked slightly pained, and Sinister was texting furiously. Hellion had no doubt that the rest of the Powerhouses were being informed.
“Fuck,” Sinister muttered under his breath and marched out of the room. Hellion heard the front door open and some murmuring. Then there was a slight squeal and someone running.
Wayla, of all people, ran into the room with Jarred on her heels and, to Hellion’s utter horror, she barreled straight toward Esserieh.
“Uncle Essi!”
One of the most feared demons in Hell turned to meet her with a tooth-baring grin and spread his arms. Wayla crashed into him like a cannonball and Esserieh absorbed it easily. The whole room, probably the whole campus, held its breath.
“Droplet,” he said, then pushed Wayla back a step. “I see you still haven’t learned any manners.”
Wayla stuck her tongue out at the demon and rolled her eyes. Hellion’s heart almost stopped, and he lurched forward when Esserieh chuckled. He, for fucking real, chuckled. Hellion had never heard him chuckle.
“I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have brushed up on my etiquette,” Wayla said and pulled free from Esserieh’s hold and performed a perfect court curtsy. The demon replied with an equally polished court bow. Both were done in Hell Realm’s fashion.
Hellfire engulfed Esserieh’s hand. Traditionally, demons clasped hands, for however briefly, but Wayla wasn’t a demon.
“No, don’t—” Hellion’s shout cut short.
Wayla grinned and water engulfed her palm. The two stared into each other’s eyes like challengers.
“Four?” Esserieh asked.
“Five,” Wayla replied, clearly relishing Esserieh’s widening eyes.
In slow motion, they clasped hands. Hellion expected Wayla to drop, shrieking in pain, burned to a crisp, but only a slight hiss of steam rose between their palms.
“… three… four… five,” Esserieh counted and then they broke apart.
Sinister was choking in the background. Hazard was beyond pale. And Hellion had to sit the fuck down. He could barely hold Esserieh’s handshake for four seconds.
“You’ve grown,” Esserieh said, nodding approvingly.
“Well, it’s been ten years,” Wayla replied with a smirk. “In another ten, I’ll raise you to six.”
“What. The. Fuck?” Sinister’s voice broke the stunned silence.
“What was that?” Grant roared.
“Are you all right, precious?” Jarred rushed over and took Wayla’s hand in his to inspect it.
“Five seconds,” Hazard muttered, stunned.
Wayla ignored them all, still focused on Esserieh. “So, what are you doing here? How long are you staying? Can I introduce you to my roommates?” She shot one question after another.
“Unfortunately, I can’t stay long this time, droplet. I’m here to deliver a message, but I’m sure I’ll be stopping by again soon.”
Wayla’s face fell, but she nodded. “All right.”
Hellion finally found his voice with a vengeance. “You two know each other?” he roared.
Wayla blinked and looked like she finally realized everyone was staring at her. Slowly, she turned to Hellion, and a slight frown marred her brow.
“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly.
“How?” he snarled.
Esserieh frowned at that.
“Lucifer has a yearly lunch or dinner date with Grandfather. Uncle Essi kept me company at the kids’ table,” she said, like it was the simplest thing in all the realms. His father’s name made Hellion flinch. She had met Lucifer?
“Not to interrupt this show and tell, but I really need to get going. Hell politics and all that,” Esserieh said to Wayla before turning to Hellion.
“Stop trying to dig up things about Wayla. Your father is not amused. That’s the official message.
My addendum is that I’ll personally dismantle your information network if you ignore Lucifer’s orders, Prince Marchellion. ”
When Hellion didn’t reply, Esserieh narrowed his eyes.
“Is that understood, Marchellion?”
Now he nodded stiffly, eyes locked on Wayla, who was mouthing his name silently. He wasn’t sure what he expected from her, but a bitter-sounding laugh wasn’t it.
“Of course,” she choked out. “Powerhouses, fitting.”
Esserieh turned back to Wayla. “I thought you knew. The rumors…”
Wayla shook her head. “We never got to proper introductions,” she said. “What’s this about…” She paled. The hurt look she threw at Hellion cut deep, but she wasn’t talking to him when she spoke. “Just him or…?”
“Ulriche’s son had some feelers out too, but they are inept at best,” Esserieh replied. “They are taken care of, Wayla. Don’t worry.”
“Luci—” Wayla began, but when Esserieh narrowed his eyes, she closed her mouth and nodded quickly.
Esserieh’s gaze moved from her to Jarred, still cradling her hand, and back. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but then decided against it.
“I really have to go. Walk me to the portal, Wayla? Your Claimed can come too.”
“Of course,” Wayla immediately replied and curled her hand around Jarred’s arm before reaching for the arm Esserieh offered like he was escorting a lady around a garden back in the days. Together, the three of them walked out, leaving stunned silence behind.