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“Honey, don’t lie! I’ll help you get out of it, whatever deal you made.” Dad turns to me with worry etched all over his face. He bites his lip, looking me up and down as if he can discern the deal just by staring at me.
“Dad, you don’t understand…” I hesitate, because dropping this on Dad after everything doesn’t feel right, but I don’t have much choice. “I’m their Center.”
If his jaw had been made of glass, it would have shattered. If he was a cartoon character, he would have fallen off a roof and turned into an illustrated white cloud and apoofsound effect. But since he’s an angel, Dad’s eyes simply widen and his expression tightens into the most violent disapproval in all the realms. “Oh really? Is that what they told you?”
Cal steps forward. “It’s true, sir,” he says as he shoves his glasses up his nose.
“Demons don’t let their Centers live, you liar!” Dad yells.
I’ve never heard him yell before. Not in my entire life. It’s so loud that his words echo throughout the room, and I take a small step back, completely intimidated.
“We dinnae know she was our Center when we came, that’s true. But now that we’ve lived with her for years, we’ve fallen in love with your daughter,” Nico proclaims.
I know Bryn has said that they loved me, but I thought it was a spur of the moment kind of deal. Like, “hey, we might all die, but we should probably get these formalities out of the way.”
But to hear Nico confess to my dad his undying love and devotion? That’s a lot for my half-human heart to handle.
I’m not sure who is more surprised or terrified by that statement—me or Santa.
“Oh no you don’t!” Dad growls. He yanks the Christmas cane out of my hands and points it at them. “Back to reindeer. Or maybe candy cane poles this time, so you can’t sniff around my daughter!”
“Dad!” I leap in front of the cane to block whatever magic he’s about to send rushing at them. But no magic comes. The cane remains normal. The green and red swirling sparkles inside the bulb on top do nothing more than look like a festive snow globe.
Dad stares at the cane. “It’s broken.”
I shake my head. “No. I just used it to heal you.”
“It can’t be working. They’re still fucking demons.”
“Maybe it doesn’t work on them because they just saved Christmas?” I suggest with a shrug.
“Gah!” Dad looks ready to pull out his own hair. His eyes fly towards my mates, and I’d be lying if I said he looked sane. He actually looks so red, he rivals a holly berry right now. “They probably knew that an angel’s tears would turn them back into demons. They used you, Joy!” To the demons, he screams, “Leave! Leave this realm and never return or so help me—”
I interrupt what was probably going to be an epic threat, because as much as I love my Dad and want to keep this realm safe and whole, I do not want to continue using the Jollies app to find mediocre dates who make Victorian hair wreaths. Fuck that. If these demons are my mates, then this is my shot at happiness. And I’m not giving that up. “Dad. No. That’s not happening.”
Every eye in the room turns to stare at me.
“What?” Dad’s brows crinkle like I just told him I signed up for the naughty list…which, maybe, possibly, I have.
But if this is what being naughty feels like, I don’t think I’ll ever want to be good.
“Sorry, Dad. But I’m half-human, so I’m pulling out the whole free will card here. The demons get to stay. We need to see if we click.”
And for the first time in centuries, someone defies Santa Claus.
