"No, you don't."
Stolas cast a spell on the Grimoire. The spell book went on autopilot to its shelf in his study. Meanwhile, he took a step closer. "I really do."
Blitzo stood on top of the stack of books on the chair. "You think you're in love because you're confused. You have a lust for my body. Hell, you may even have something like a high school infatuation, but it's not love!"
"Blitz, it's none of those things." Stolas clenched his fists and opened them immediately. "Ever since I first met you, I've wanted to be with you more. I don't just mean as a sex partner. I yearn for a broader relationship with you."
"Stop! Just stop!" Blitzo looked away. "Whatever it is you want from me, I can't give it to you. You have a family and a royal standing to maintain. Don't throw it away for an imp like me."
"I don't care what my arrogant brethren think!" Stolas held his arms open wide. "I care about you."
"You don't know the first th-" In turning back around to point, Blitzo slipped on the top book. "Oh, s**!"
"Blitz!" Stolas held out his hand. It glowed a dark color and so did Blitzo's torso. The imp dangled in the air.
"Put. Me. Down." Blitzo glared.
Stolas guided his spell to turn Blitzo right-side up. He gently placed him feet-first on the floor. The glow faded as Stolas folded his hands.
"Now listen here, you royal **." Blitzo pointed at Stolas. "I am not your baby to coddle. I can handle a fall without your **ing bird hacks."
Stolas nodded slowly. "I know."
"Then, why…?"
All four red eyes looked. "Because I love you."
"Stop saying that." Blitzo facepalmed. "You're either lying to me or you're crazy, and I firmly believe it's the crazy option." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Look, you wouldn't be saying that if you knew me. I wasn't really that interested in being your pal when we first met."
"My family was just a convenient target to rob."
Blitzo gasped. "You… knew that?"
Stolas smiled sadly. "Several books about pirates and windows, they never threw stuff out that was valuable to them. It was pretty obvious you were cleaning us out back then."
Blitzo stammered. "But if you knew, then why would you let me do that?"
"It's the game you wanted to play," said Stolas. "I thought you were having fun. If you weren't, you could've jumped out the window along with the stuff you threw. Yet you stayed, and you shared your dream of a business with me. A circus office with clowns and horses… you made it sound so wonderful."
"Yeah, well… I **ing grew up!" Blitzo turned around. His tail whipped the floor once. "Keep your stuffy feelings away until they make sense! I need to go."
"Blitz…"
"Don't call me unless you need some **er dead, okay?" Blitzo walked toward the entrance. He stopped and gripped his shoulder. "I know you can't help craving my body. Who wouldn't? I'm d** gorgeous! So… I'll make an exception and let you call if you want me to warm up your bed. Other than those two reasons, don't **ing bother."
Stolas's tail feathers withered. "Okay. Before you leave, can you answer one question?"
Agitated, Blitzo turned to look at the owl behind him. "What?"
"How do you really feel about me?"
Voices of the past filled Blitzo's mind. Both genuine and hallucinated thoughts invaded. He wanted them all to shut the ** up. Yet, there was one voice that he couldn't convince himself that needed to be quiet.
'Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?'
Blitzo swallowed bile. "I don't hate you. Are we done here?"
While Stolas's primary eyes still looked with concern, his secondary eyes lit up ever so slightly. "I suppose we are. Sorry to take up your time."
Blitzo turned away. "Yeah, whatever." He lifted his right hand. The Asmodean Crystal glinted some of the house light. "Thanks for the crystal."
The next sounds were the imp's footsteps, an engine starting, and rubber meeting the road. Stolas collapsed onto the sofa. He figured he would be upset after receiving such a dodgy answer. Yet, all he could bring himself to feel in the moment was relief.
(Several weeks later…)
The night of the full moon came and went. During that time, no imps other than the servants passed through the palace. Stolas was sitting at a personal desk area while idly flipping through his Grimoire for the umpteenth time. His hand hovered over a pill case, paused, then moved away.
A golden fang glimmered in the dimly lit room. "No Blitzy to save you now, Prince."
"Empty threat without your secret weapon, buckaroo." Stolas turned around and crossed his arms.
"Why don't you look again?" Striker turned his handgun. It glistened with an ash-white pattern.
"Oh." Stolas's mouth looked like it shrank. "That might actually help you."
"Still, I'm in no hurry." Striker pointed the blessing-engraved revolver at the owl's head. "Either put up a fight or beg for your life. You'll die all the same."
"How… sporting of you." Stolas raised his brow. "Is that why you let Blitz tie with you at the Pain Games?"
"Typical rich guy." Striker frowned. "You think the men with the power have to lower themselves to be equal. No, Blitz held his own quite well up close and personal. But then, I don't have to tell you what he's like face-to-face. Do I?"
"Why are you really here?" asked Stolas. "If the pay was your only goal, you'd have finished your business and collected already. What's motivating you right now?"
"I just want to savor the moment." Striker grinned. "It's not everyday somebody kills the forbidden fruit, instead of sucking its nectar like a thirsty clown."
"And what then?" Stolas was less than amused. "You think your bragging rights won't paint a target on your own hide?"
"Who's going to stop me?" Striker lightly tapped his finger against the trigger. "Certainly not the rest of the royal family after I'm through with them."
Stella kicked in the door and pointed her crossbow. "Drop your weapon!"
The patterns in Striker's eyes seemed to spin. "You think your flimsy arrows can fly faster than my bullets? I can pop one in both of your asses before you even blink. I dare you to prove me wrong!"
When he felt his grip loosen, Striker blinked. His revolver was floating in an indigo aura. It zipped over his head to the balcony. A different hand grabbed the gun and flipped it around. Octavia stared with fury in her eyes. Her hand stopped glowing.
"Aw, s**!" Striker reached for his opposite holster.
But just as he pulled out a second revolver, an arrow stabbed through his wrist. He dropped his backup weapon and hissed in pain. Stolas levitated the second gun safely out of reach. The Goetia had the imp surrounded.
Stella glared. "Now, before we decide what to do with you, answer this: Who. Sent. You?"
At first, Striker let out a few short hisses. But then, his voice cracked through in a low-pitched laugh. Stella squinted in confusion. What in Hell did this guy think was so funny?
Striker looked directly at Stella. "Your brother."
Stella's eyes opened wide. Her arm holding the crossbow faltered. Striker, with knife in tail, attempted to slip past her. However, a shadow emerged from Stella's tail feather and grabbed him by the neck. Clawed wings tore into the imp as the peahen's true form was unleashed.
Octavia tilted her head as she lowered her procured gun. She watched her mother screech and growl, spilling dark blood and pieces of cowboy attire. The knife ended up pinning the dusty hat against the wall.
A larger shadow's talons suddenly gripped the other demon bird. "Stella, stop! He's already dead!"
Crimson eyes blinked, as if they just remembered where they were. The shadows slowly retreated, leaving the prince holding his wife's hands.
Stella winced and sighed. "Sorry you had to see that."
Octavia shrugged. "I've seen bigger messes at a theme park."
Stolas pretended to scratch his cheek. He then returned his sight to Stella. "Are you alright?"
"I don't know," admitted Stella. "Part of me doesn't want to believe him, but it makes sense in hindsight. Andrealphus wasn't exactly subtle about hating you, last time I spoke with him."
"I could try coaxing a confession out of him the next time we visit," suggested Octavia.
"Absolutely not!" Stolas shook his head.
Stella agreed with him. "My brother would likely try to use you as a bargaining chip. If we want to prove he's this assassin's client, we'll need an indirect approach."
Octavia picked up a discarded holster to put the gun away. "Like what?"
Stolas glanced over at the corpse. He rubbed his chin.
…
In another manor, a rotary phone rang. A manicured hand picked up on the second ring.
"The deed is done," said a Wrath accent on the other end of the line.
"About bloody time!" Blue eyes rolled. "What took you so long?"
"Just wanted to appreciate my handiwork," said the caller.
"Were you thorough?"
"There ain't enough left of him to fill a body bag."
"Well, **. Those blessed piercing bullets don't leave much to the imagination." He cleared his throat. "You'll find the rest of your payment at the agreed upon drop point. For both our sakes, I hope we never speak to each other again."
"That won't be a problem, sir," agreed the voice.
Andrealphus hung up his phone. He sighed and walked over to a tray with a glass and a bottle. He poured himself a serving of champagne and he laughed.
…
Painted nails hung up the phone on the desk. The owner coughed in a pitch far from her own. "Look, I know this is a smooth voice, but can you undo the spell now?"
Stolas chuckled. "Just swallow, my dear."
Stella gulped, then widened her eyes. "Eww… I've got Striker skin inside me." Fortunately, her usual tone had returned.
"Ah, but the important thing is we learned what we needed to know." Stolas held up an index finger to the side.
(The next night…)
A rude noise stirred the marquis before he could get comfortable. It sounded like a sputtering lawn mower and a sprinkler system. He furrowed his brow. He figured it must have been one of the gardeners that were too asinine to speak English. As he got up and threw his robe on, he contemplated which hand signs to get the message across.
What he couldn't have known was that his servants were getting diced up outside. The girl power of country imp and hellhound were spilling dark blood everywhere. A stray arm and tail splatted against the front door. One of the marquis's bodyguards fired a pistol blindly out the window, only to get his paw shot off.
The other bodyguard barely pulled himself across the floor to the master's quarters. Andrealphus heard gunfire and paused. As he slowly opened the door, he saw his own hellhound missing both legs. He slammed the door shut and ran back into his study. He pulled a book halfway down, triggering the shelf to make way for a hidden passage.
He didn't see the laser point aiming at the back of his head. However, he did see the angelic bullet displace some book pages along with some of his own blood. He barely gasped out a sound before the hole in his head expanded outward. Seconds later, he was nothing but a pile of dust.
…
"Yipee-kayak, daddy**er!" Blitzo switched off his laser pen.
"The saying is yippee-ki-yay, mother**er." Moxxie looked up from the sniper's scope.
"Mine's better." Blitzo turned to leave.
Moxxie sighed, stored the blessing-tipped rifle in a briefcase, then picked it up to follow his boss. Soon after, Millie and Loona climbed up to cover the rear.
(Last night…)
To infiltrate the Goetia palace, Striker had gone through some of the servants. Stab and slash wounds from his serrated knife were the most common. One of the bodyguards whimpered over the pile of ashes that used to be his partner. Walter had been at Stella's side at the back of the house, while Ray had been dusting in Octavia's room. Respectively, they were the only butler and maid left to slowly clean up the bloody mess.
After the call under the disguised voice, Stella had made some chamomile tea. She set her cup down and sighed.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked. "Would you be able to hide for an indefinite amount of time?"
"What's Andre going to do? Hire a hitman with even less skills?" Stolas chuckled.
"Well, clearly that wasn't the only angelic weapon lying around." Stella rubbed her temple. "Who is to say that he doesn't have access to even more?"
"Alright, point taken." Stolas rubbed his neck.
Octavia walked down the hall while her parents discussed the matter. She pulled out her cell phone for a moment, but then immediately pocketed it. She wandered over to a side table with a rotary phone sitting on top of it. Internally, she grumbled as she spun it around in fractions of a circle, then waited for it to reset after each motion.
After a few dial tones, a voice answered. "Alright, Stolas! What **ty costume do you want me in this time?"
Octavia deadpanned. "Wrong generation, d**head."
"The f**?!" Blitzo's voice sighed. "Kid, aren't you a little old to be making prank calls?"
"You guys kill for revenge on behalf of your clients, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Someone just tried to kill my dad with a blessed revolver. I want revenge."
A chair straightened out in the background. "Who's going to be the dead son of a b**?"
"Marquis Andrealphus of the branch family."
There was a pause.
"If we have to go through his security, I'm going to have to charge double to cover the ammunition."
Shadows threatened to devour the light in the room. "I'll pay you triple if you make it a rush job."
"Deal."
