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Darien faced his cousin, giving him time to find his words.
Finally, Travis said, “This is really fuckin’ weird, man.” He gave a husky laugh, but he looked more concerned than anything.
“You’re telling me,” Darien said. “We’ll be back soon.” He had no idea if that was true, but it was better than offering his cousin nothing. He’d shut the door on all of them since Loren went into a coma—not just shut it, but slammed and locked it—and now it was time to crack it back open.
“When you see Roman, can you… Can you tell him—” Travis abruptly went silent, his throat shifting with a swallow.
Darien clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll tell him.” He pulled his cousin into an embrace that was over quickly.
Travis stepped back and crossed his arms. “And Pax?” he said, looking away, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles fluttered.
“I’ll tell him you still suck at Rushin’ Racers.”
Travis snorted, but the humor was short-lived. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.”
“He does,” Darien assured him, making for the garage. “And he understands.”
Travis followed, their boots pounding in unison. “Mortifer should take a lesson on understanding, actually.” Travis’s words echoed faintly in the hallway. “He’s having a hard time with this.”
“Where is he?”
“Last I saw, he was in the garage. Probably fucking with your wires so you can’t leave.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Darien pushed open the garage door and descended the concrete steps into the massive room. The other Devils waited by the truck and car, Malakai and Jewels among them.
Dallas and Sabrine were here too. The girls stood by the open back door of the truck, where Joyce checked Loren’s pulse in the back seat.
And, sure enough, Mortifer was seated on the hood of Darien’s car, getting an earful from Max.
“I’m serious, Morty,” Max was saying, a stern finger raised before him. “You don’t touch those. You never touch those.”
“You got caught, didn’t you?” Darien said to the Hob as he joined the group. Sabrine turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Dallas had called her right away, telling her to get to the house if she wanted to say goodbye.
Max said, “I fixed his doctoring before he could do any permanent damage.”
Darien loaded the rest of his things into the truck bed and slammed the tailgate shut. “All good?” he called to Joyce.
“She’s fine, Darien. Stable as can be.”
“Good.” He walked around the front of the car and faced Mortifer, who peeked up at him with stubborn reluctance.
“Why the long face?” Darien said quietly. “I’ll be back soon.”
“He wants to go with you,” Lace said as she hugged Ivy goodbye.
Mortifer refused to look at Darien. His smoky arms were crossed, a big frown on his face. The Hob didn’t get upset very often, but Darien had learned in his years of caring for Mortifer that if it wasn’t ice that was upsetting him, it was the safety of his family. Usually, Darien’s safety.
“I need you here, bud,” Darien said, trying his best to make his voice sound not so…fuck, flat. Disinterested. Cold. But he could hear it in his own words—these past few weeks had changed him, and he wasn’t fooling anyone. “I need you to look after the others and keep the house safe,” Darien continued. “It’s an important job, and I only trust you to do it for me. So what do you say? Can I count on the best Hob in the whole entire universe to handle this very important, very special task?”
It took him a minute, but Mortifer finally nodded and uncrossed his arms, bracing his tiny hands on the car instead.
“And when we get back,” Darien added, “we’ll go for some of that shave ice. How does that sound?”
The Hob was quicker at nodding this time, the black-and-red flames on his head rapidly flickering with the motion.
Darien looked between the others, all of them either ready to go or ready to say their goodbyes. Darien had already spoken to each of the Devils in private, Travis last, so there was nothing left to do except leave. And while he knew this change was only temporary, there was a part of him that felt—feared—it might somehow wind up being permanent.
