“One more word about my cock, and I’ll sacrificeyoursto Abraxas.” I smooth my palms down the velvet lapels. “It’s not a bathrobe, you imbecile. It’s a smoking jacket.”
“You don’t smoke.”
I flick my wrist in his direction. He ducks just in time to avoid a burst of flame. It hits the oil panting behind him, incinerating it on contact.
“So we’re in a mood, then. Excellent.” Ignoring the smoldering Picasso and the mood both, Finn hands me the other drink and drops into the adjacent armchair, eyeing me warily.
Dodging his ever-watchful scrutiny, I retrieve my phone and scroll—universal gesture for leave me the fuck alone—but Finn isn’t one for subtle cues.
“You know we left the confines of Hell so you couldenjoyyour existence, right?” he says. “Not brood like some emo Hollywood boy-band reject who didn’t make it onto the concert poster.”
“We left the confines of Hell because my father, in all his infinite wisdom, gave me no other choice, and you were daft enough to follow me. So what does that say about you?”
“I’m trying to look at the bright side.”
“One of your less endearing qualities.”
“We’re in Los Angeles, Dev. Regardless of the circumstances that brought us here… Well, to put it simply, we’re already seated at the restaurant. May as well enjoy the buffet.”
“Ihatebuffets.”
“It’s a metaphor, for fuck’s sake, and what in the burning lakes are youlookingat?” He snatches the phone from my hand and inspects the screen. “Witchtok? You’re obsessing again, mate.”
“I’mpreparing, and as someone who had front-row seats to the last near-apocalyptic catastrophe brought upon our heads by a witch, I assumed you might be more sympathetic.”
“It’s been three hundred years. If your witch wanted to track you down again and—”
“Ex-witch.”
“—attack, she’d have done so long before now.”
“You’re underestimating the ability of a scorned woman to hold a grudge.”
“Pretty sure you were the scorned one there, but who’s counting?”
“I was young and foolish.” I return my attention to the flames, old wounds slicing my heart anew. “Perhaps I hurt her in some deep, unfathomable way. Something I might have done differently if only I’d—”
“For fuck’s sake, Dev. You brought her home to meet Mum and Dad and show her ‘round your old stomping grounds, and instead of giving you a blowjob in your childhood bedroom like adecentgirlfriend, she drugged you, freed the worst demons of the lot, and led them to war against the God of Death—a war that nearly wiped out all of humanity in the crossfire, andwouldhave, had your control-freak tyrant of a father not stepped in. And now you’re here, scrolling the socials and indulging in a full-on pity party while arealparty carries on just outside the door, which is a level of meta-fuckery I can’t even wrap my mind around, You need help, mate. Years upon years of it, if you ask me, and I’m not sure why you’re waiting, considering you can’t swing a dead hellhound in this town without hitting a therapist square in the face. Is it an insurance mix-up? Or just you being a complete and utter knob?” He hands back the phone, shaking his head. “My money’s on option B. Knob.”
“Piss off. Again.” Unoriginal, but it’s all I’ve got. The tank, as they say, is running on fumes.
“Witchtok.” He sighs as I renew my scrolling. “So this is what it’s come to?”
“Have you a better idea?”
“Better than watching humans argue over whose pantheon is the most powerful and who gets to call themselves a hereditary witch. And what is with the obsession with aesthetics? In our day, witches didn’t need pretty rocks and incense and T-shirts that sayThe Moon Made Me Do It. They just did it.”
“In our day, demons didn’t make a habit of provoking the Devil, either. Yet here you are.”
“Dress for the job you want, not the one you have.” He holds up his glass in cheers, then takes another hefty swig. “Anyway, yes, Idohave a better idea than doom-scrolling. Lose the bathrobe and the Broody McBrooderson attitude, and—”
“I’m serious, Finn. I can’t afford to be caught unawares again.”
“Where is this coming from? Did something happen?”
I recall the feeling from earlier. The cold scrape down my spine, the rattling in my bones. “I just… I felt something. Bit of a tingle.”
“A ‘damn, these are really good drugs’ tingle, or a ‘time to see the doc and get a shot before my dick falls off’ tingle?”
