Page 72 of King’s Kismet

She whipped us onto the street, slung the gear into drive, and sped off like Hades was on her ass as she chortled.

My phone rang before we were out of the neighborhood.

“Hello?” I answer cheerfully.

“Bring back my fucking truck,” my brother shouted.

“No can do,” Barbie snarked. “You lost a bet, Bay. Now you have to pay up.”

He growled in exasperation. “What fucking bet?”

“Oh,” Blaire sang in the background. “I can remind you of that one. And all the times your brother has tried to get you to talk to Lo about this.”

“Sloane,” Bay placated. “Please, do not—”

“We’re going for a joy ride,” Barbie cut in. “Maybe I’ll bring it back. Maybe I won’t. I make no promises.”

“Sloane,” my brother barked.

But she only cackled as she tossed my phone out the window.

I sighed. “Really? Was that necessary?”

“No.” She grimaced. “I got caught up in the moment.”

Demon Demands - Chapter 11

Alternate POV

Tuesday, May 26th

Late Night

Once we made it back to the palace, I helped arrange drinks on the kitchen counter while Sloane padded between us and the pantry with Earthly snacks.

I chose the roecon juice, because when in Hell…

They had no idea what it was, and I wasn’t going to tell them. Not where it came from or how it was harvested either. Sloane could tell them if she wanted to, but I was enjoying the moment before she did.

She watched me as I grinned into my glass. Each time one of the guys made a comment, it became more difficult to stop my laughter.

The juice was a pale blue liquid that was both sweet and tart, with pieces of pulp floating to the top of the glass. Briggs was the only one who wouldn’t get sick over the roecon origins. The other guys wouldn’t care that it tasted like the freshest strawberry orange juice Florida could offer, picked during peak season with a recipe that took years to perfect.

But then again… I wasn’t happy when I found out it came from a fish off the Voltan coast, either. I might have been eight, maybe nine, when my dad let the sort of like a sea cucumber bit slip loose in our kitchen. After searching his books for more information, I stopped drinking the juice.

I didn’t pick it up again until I was twenty. And it was a sentimental deal then, however I’d drank it during every trip to the Underworld since.

We were all exhausted, except for Novak, though even he was lacking in the energy department. I hated staying in Hell, but if we had to, there was no safer place than the Devils’ palace.

Dolyn and Hyde trailed behind Grim as they left the kitchen. They’d been so quiet, I’d nearly forgotten they were here. Jack shuffled the uneaten snacks around between the fridge and cabinets.

“Come on,” Sloane gently ordered, waving for us to follow her. “You guys look like you’re about to fall asleep standing, and Vaughn keeps talking to that bowl of fruit about the end of the world.”

Vaughn scoffed at her. “It’s not fruit. They’re prophets, sent to Hell to show us the way.”

Novak scratched his chin, drawing my attention to the facial hair growing across his jawline. “The way to—”

“Don’t ask him,” Briggs snapped, scrubbing at his eyes. “Stop inciting his paranoia. I know you guys like to fuck with each other, but don’t help him feed into the beginnings of a bad trip.”