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“The kitchens on the Hell plane,” I pointed out with deep suspicion.
“In Demonish the name for it is zyll a ill pora.” Evan seemed to know way more than I did.
“And in English?”
“The Meat of My Enemies,” she replied.
“Are you feeding my son treats made from the flesh of your enemies, Grayson Sloane?”
“They taste great,” Fen assured me. “This is both nutritious and delicious. Hit me, Dad.”
“Don’t you dare, Trent.” I pointed his way, but he seemed to have half the bag down his throat.
Fen groaned.
“It’s just a name. It’s actually made from cattle found on the Hell plane,” Gray replied. “But I would like to point out that you’re the one who wants me to be comfortable with my demonic side.”
“I meant for sex stuff not for slaughtering your enemies and making them into treats. Why is that box moving? Please tell me that’s not something else for Fen to eat,” I complained as I pointed to the twitchy box. “He will get a tummy ache and we have a million things to do tonight.”
Yes, I was the fun mom.
“Oh, this is a present for Evan,” Gray said, dropping to one knee.
Two paws and a head popped up over the side of the box, and the goofiest, ugliest, most adorable thing I’d ever seen was suddenly drooling up at me.
Evan gasped. “Is that what I think it is? Is that a hellhound puppy?”
“You said you always wanted one, and he was the runt of a litter born on our estate. They were going to feed him to the others,” Gray explained. “Come and hold him. He’ll bond to you if you keep him close and feed him. He’s small and impressionable. Hellhounds have to learn to be violent and aggressive, and he’s so young he hasn’t started training yet. He’s barely twenty-four hours old.”
Evan dropped to her knees and picked up the chubby puppy. “Hi, boy. You are the sweetest thing. Look at you.”
Pitch black eyes stared at her with obvious worship, and his purplish tongue lolled out from between sharp fangs. His body wriggled as though he wanted to be close to her.
It was cute and sweet and completely the wrong time. I turned to my husband, who might have been trying to make some amends to the kids and me, but he was also causing trouble. “Is that dog even house trained? Do we even know if the primals allow hellhounds in the Under?”
Gray frowned. “He’s only a puppy. And we’re going back to Frelsi soon, right?”
We? That was the first time I’d heard him use the word we when he was talking about the future. “I don’t know if the king is going to want Tix popping in and out of Frelsi.”
“I love him so much.” Evan held the puppy close. “Kelsey, I’ll take care of him. I’ll get him a crate and a leash, and I’ll walk him and train him. Oh, please don’t make him go back. They’ll kill him. He’s so sweet. Look at him.”
She held the hound out, showing me how cute and wriggly he was, and then he burped and a little jet of fire flew out of his mouth.
“Okay, so we’re pretty sure there’s some dragon in his background,” Gray admitted. “He’ll get control of that very quickly.”
“He burps fire, Gray.”
Fenrir was laughing. “He farts it, too. A tiny bit came out of his butt. That’s awesome, Pop. I mean that is the best. We should call him the Mighty Fire Farter.”
Evan held her new baby close, as though protecting him from Fen. “No, we will not. His name is Puff the Magic Hellhound, and you are not going to make him feel bad about farting. None of you boys should ever do that. Hypocrites.”
“I wasn’t making fun of him. I think it’s cool,” Fen tried.
Chaos. That was what Gray had brought. Pure chaos. I had a murder to solve, and Gray had brought me a fire tooter.
“Where is he going to sleep, Gray? Does he have a crate? Does he have a water bowl? Does he drink water or should I pour out the blood of his enemies?” I started.
“He doesn’t have enemies,” Evan argued.
