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“Yes. And Asher has kindly placed the mats that Banjo requires for urination and defecation nearby.”
I couldn’t take it. This was too friggin’ cute. Carver, our undead boss, notorious for his chilly, brusque demeanor, was in love with the exploding corgi.
“Then it seems you’re all set. But no more sausages, please. Tell you what, here’s something you can give him.” I reached for my backpack, rummaging around its inside pockets. “Have you heard of Puppy Yum biscuits?”
Chapter 22
It was still kind of strange seeing Carver develop an affection for – no, an actual attachment to Banjo. More importantly, I thought it was cute. Carver, who rarely wore anything less restrictive than a tailored suit, had somehow managed to sit on the floor, the better to hand feed Puppy Yum biscuits to his newfound fur baby.
Carver made cooing noises, leaning against the front of his desk as he laughed, dodging Banjo’s exceedingly enthusiastic licks. This was the closest any of us had come to seeing Carver let his hair down, and I felt a little special being allowed to witness that kind of vulnerability.
He wasn’t even wearing his suit jacket. Just a shirt. I’d never, ever seen that. I mean, I wasn’t even mad that he took my entire stash of doggie biscuits. I could pick up another batch the next time I headed out of the hideout. Plus in between playing and licking Carver’s face, I was pretty sure I saw Banjo looking over at me with something like gratitude in his little eyes. Pretty sure.
I tried to catch up with the others as they gave Mason the grand tour. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I didn’t exactly have a reason to play nice with the kid, given how nasty he’d been to me. But fine. He’d come all this way, searching for some grand, unknown something, only to find me at the end of his accursed rainbow.
And come on. Was that really such a bad thing? I’m better than a pot of gold. Can a pot of gold make you microwave dinners, fold a fitted sheet badly, and leave socks all over the bedroom floor? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
Based on the route they were taking, the only thing Mason really hadn’t seen was the new dojo, the Dustin-gets-his-ass-beat platform the Boneyard had lovingly sculpted for my use. They were near or around Gil’s makeshift gym room, from the sound of it. So I headed to the dojo, sat cross-legged on the floor, and stared out into the abyss, waiting for the others to show up.
Which took way longer than expected, to be frank. The abyss didn’t offer much entertainment, and I was about to reach for my phone when my backpack began to wriggle. I opened it, watching as Vanitas hovered gently out of the interdimensional space, then settled with the tip of his scabbard resting against the floor, like someone standing on one leg. He lifted up and landed a couple of times, tapping himself off. A few leaves and a tiny little twig drifted to the ground, souvenirs from his time in the trees.
“Something smells different,” he said, his garnets glimmering.
“Yeah. Remember the second thing that attacked us tonight? It was a half angel.”
“Half of an angel? How gruesome.”
“No,” I grunted. “A half angel. A nephilim.”
Vanitas’s telepathic voice gasped inside my head. “And he’s here, right now?”
I reached out one hand, lifting a finger in warning, but ready to grab him and pin him to the floor if necessary.
“Listen. We’re supposed to be friends now, or something. He attacked us because of a misunderstanding. I feel like you should know all this already, weren’t you listening?”
He huffed. “I wasn’t sure who you people were even talking about. Context. Didn’t even get a good view of his face.”
I pressed my lips together. “It’s either that, or you’re still grumpy over not getting to taste blood tonight.”
He lifted off, then bashed into the ground, his version of impetuously stomping his foot. “It’s not fair. Two fights – against a demon, and an angel, both things I haven’t properly tasted – and I didn’t even get to draw blood.”
I gently patted the ground by his foot. Scabbard. Whatever. “You’ll get your chance some day, buddy.”
He harrumphed, then rotated so that the garnets in his hilt faced away from me, and into the abyss. Vanitas was sulking. Don’t ask me how I knew. I sighed, and joined him in staring back out at the inky blackness.
But not for long.
“Hey.”
I looked over my shoulder, surprised to find Mason on his own. I tilted my head, peeking around h
im, but he was alone.
“Where’s everyone else?”
Mason shrugged, getting down on his haunches, then sitting fully on the floor beside me. “The werewolf and the vampire got into this pissing match over who could lift the most. I got bored and snuck off. Last thing I saw, they were taking turns bench-pressing that Asher kid. I think they’re going to bench-press your boyfriend next.”
“Huh,” I said. “I mean, they could try, but that really depends on Herald’s mood. Anyway.” I waved a hand around myself. “This is where I practice magic, sometimes. And that’s the abyss.”
