The phone call had been from Stolas. Blitzo had missed it, of course, in their scramble to off Striker, and even though he could see the prince from the window, he didn't know if he wanted to talk to him yet.

Because he wouldn't know what to say.

Did Blitzo tell him? Tell him that someone was trying to kill him?

But who was it? Had it merely been Striker alone, taking a chance at a podunk celebration to kill the prince, who he'd known would have no security? Or was Striker just the bullet in the gun, hired to take Stolas out by someone higher up?

Blitzo knew they were probably many demons who'd love to end the prince's life just because, but would of course never be able. It was just the way Hell worked. And clearly, Striker knew about the book, and Stolas and Blitzo's deal, so it wouldn't be crazy to say other demons knew, too. That itself would be a huge reason for getting rid of Stolas.

The thing was, Blitzo didn't know. He knew nothing about Striker's desire, his own goals, anything. The assassination had been planned, that much was clear. But besides that?

Should he even bother telling Stolas? Striker would presumably be impossible to find. He'd already disappeared so fast, even after Blitzo was at the window in the next two seconds.

Slithery fucking bastard.

Telling Stolas seemed like a waste. It seemed like a way to just get the prince strung out with worry, and they would be able to do nothing about it.

"Sir, are you okay?" Moxxie asked, breaking the silence that previously had been just his and Blitzo's strained breathing.

Blitzo turned away from the window, his eyes still locked for a few more moments on the prince who was now appearing more agitated as he idled on stage.

"I'm fine, Mox," the taller imp replied gruffly. He rolled his shoulders and slipped his pistol back into its holster. "Are you?" He stood in front his employee.

"I-I'm okay, but Millie is hurt," Moxxie said. He glanced at the rifle he held, still in disbelief over the fact he had it. Blitzo followed his eyes down and scowled.

"Keep that close to you until we leave."

Moxxie nodded firmly and slung the rifle across his back, tightening its strap before they left the room. Together, they hurried downstairs to find Lin and Joe already tending to Millie's wounds.

Blitzo made a quick inquiry about how she was feeling and then a jab about how they both had a common enemy now (that being bear traps). Millie smiled at him thinly, obviously in pain, but looked happier.

"Where are you going?" Moxxie asked as Blitzo scurried past the van and into the driveway.

"Gonna go find Stolas," Blitzo replied hastily. Moxxie frowned, glancing between his boss and his wife, then took off after the former. Blitzo stopped immediately and said, "Please don't bring that near him."

Moxxie skid to a halt on the gravel and looked up at his boss with wide eyes. "The gun?" he clarified.

"Yeah. I don't want—I don't want it there." The words sounded plain and childish, even to him, but Moxxie nodded and took a step back.

"I'll just, uh, stay here then, with Millie. We'll be waiting for you." Moxxie turned and headed back toward the farm, leaving Blitzo to go on.

The imp pulled out his phone.

"Blitzo!" Stolas shouted far too loudly into the receiver as soon as it rang once. "I didn't see you at the ceremony, and then—"

"Where are you?" Blitzo interrupted. He was still hurrying toward the now finished ceremony, but he couldn't see the stage yet.

"I'm backstage. I tried to call you—"

Once again, Blitzo cut him off.

"I know; stay there, I'm coming to you."

"Blitzy, something happened, didn't it? I can feel it," Stolas murmured.

Blitzo didn't know what to say.

"Be there in a few."

With that, the imp hung up and tucked his phone back into his pocket. His hand fell on the gun at his side, worrying the grip. He pushed past anyone who got in his way, earning more than a few disgruntled snaps, but he didn't care.

"I say, I say, Blitzo, you cannot go in there," Wally Wackford warned amiably as said imp walked right up to the curtains that concealed the back of the stage.

Blitzo didn't have the patience for this. He barely gave Wally a glance and continued his stalking forward. A cane flicked out in front of him, barring his entry. That stopped Blitzo this time, his eyes burning as he swelled with annoyance.

"No can do, buddy boy!" Wally once again admonished. "His Majesty is off limits to the public."

"I'm not the public, nor am I your fucking buddy, so get the fuck outta my way," Blitzo growled. He was twitching with bundled up energy.

Wally flashed him a toothy grin. "Doesn't change anything, Blitzo!"

Blitzo snarled and grabbed Wally's cane, fully prepared to throw the impeding salesman out of his way, but a feathered head poking itself through the curtains stopped that notion.

"Blitzy! There you are. Wackford, no need for this, he's with me," Stolas said, shooing the imp away with his hands. Before Wally could say anything else, Stolas nabbed Blitzo by the arm and dragged him inside. It was a nice little area, with a plush chair and a side table. Stolas' head brushed the ceiling, so it was probably cramped for him but not for anyone else.

"You're hurt," Stolas pointed out when they were finally alone. "What happened out there? I heard gun shots in the distance; was that you?" He blinked large eyes full of worry at the imp.

Blitzo rubbed his nose on his forearm, coming away with a crusty streak of black. He'd forgotten, in his hurry, to clean up. Now his (and a little bit of Striker's) blood was half dried all over his face and clothes.

"I'm fine—you should see the other guy," Blitzo joked without a smile as he scrubbed at his nose with the palm of a hand.

Stolas smiled wanly before pulling Blitzo's hand away from his face.

"Let me help you with that, my dear," the prince said. With a twirl of his fingers, a handkerchief was there, and he swiveled to dip it in the glass of water sitting on the table. Stolas brought the now damp cloth up to Blitzo's nose and gently wiped the inky blood from his features. Besides that, he was sporting some bruises along his jaw and brow, and Blitzo could feel his ribs and back aching, but nothing seemed to be broken. As if sensing his weariness, Stolas motioned for the imp to take the chair; Blitzo wanted to reject the offer, but comforting hands and being dead on his feet didn't help that. He all but collapsed in the chair. A moment later, Stolas was rubbing his shoulders from behind.

Blitzo couldn't help the soft groan he let out from the bird's ministrations. He relaxed further into the seat.

"There we go, Blitzy," Stolas soothed. He kneaded between the imp's shoulder blades. "Now . . . please, tell me what happened. Your injuries are not from the games."

"It was . . ." Blitzo froze. He'd already decided he wouldn't say anything about Striker trying to kill Stolas. It was unnecessary grief. At least until maybe they caught Striker (if that was even possible). Would withholding this information be considered lying? Would it only help the enemy?

Fuck, I don't know!

"Striker just wanted to cause trouble," Blitzo spat out hastily, his claws gripping hard enough onto the ends of the armrests to rip the fabric. "We got into a little, uh, tussle."

Stolas took his hands off Blitzo's shoulders and stepped around the chair to kneel in front of him. He had a perplexed look on his face, clearly dubious of his story.

"'Little tussle'? Blitzo," Stolas said firmly, "you're not telling me the truth."

"I-I am!" Blitzo's heart thumped nervously in his chest. "Striker was being an asshat, like, wanting to ruin the festival, so Moxxie and I had a sparring session with the guy. Things got heated. But I won, ya know, because I'm so awesome, and here I am." He plastered the most convincing smug smile on his lips and quirked an eyebrow in the same manner to (hopefully) get Stolas to drop the subject. But even with his charm, the prince still appeared doubtful.

"Besides," Blitzo drew the surest way to throw the bird off the mark and change the subject, "it doesn't really compare to what you're gonna get later."

Stolas stiffened, flushing lightly at the words. He let out a small hoot of surprise.

"Daddy's not happy with you embarrassing him at the festival. Daddy thinks you're in for a punishment later." Blitzo let his voice drop headily and his grin sharpened at the edges.

"Ah, I'm, um. Daddy," was all Stolas could manage in response, red in the face.

Blitzo chuckled, "Mmhmm. You did that on purpose, didn't you? Because you wanted a reaction outta me, right, baby?" He let a claw trail along the underside of the prince's chin.

Stolas shuddered, his thighs pressing together. It was adorable, really, Blitzo thought amusedly. Just a few words and he had the bird wet already.

"But it'll have to wait for later, Daddy's tired," Blitzo said, leaning back in the chair. Stolas trilled lowly in what could be called disappointment, but he smiled and set a hand on the imp's knee.

"Of course. You're sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm fine. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

"Alright. But you know you can talk to me about anything?"

"Yes, Stolas." Blitzo couldn't help the weariness that settled into his voice. "Everything is fine."

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Everything was not fine.

The drive back to Imp City was tense. Blitzo's hands worried the already worn steering wheel, his claws threatening to tear the leather. No one else seemed as on edge as he was. Fuck, why weren't they? Blitzo felt like he was going to explode from the anxiety squirming in his gut.

Did he do the right thing? Was not telling Stolas the right move? Did he just endanger the prince even more? Maybe Striker was following them as they drove, ready to follow behind Blitzo to get to Stolas. The thought made the nervous imp constantly glance at his mirrors. The roads were empty, lonely, dusty.

Blitzo kept checking, just in case.

The rock music playing lowly in the background didn't help either. He hadn't been able to stand turning it up, so he left it quiet. Loona was on her phone, and Millie and Moxxie were in the back. Neither of them was talking, but out of the corner of his eye, Blitzo could see them making small gestures and glances.

Maybe he'd just signed Stolas' death warrant by not telling him. Fuck, Striker had had that rifle; what else could he have? Was the rifle even his? Or was it his employer's loan?

All the possibilities ran through his head. It was driving him crazy. He squeezed the wheel tighter; leather creaked under his whitening knuckles. His arms shook.

"Sir."

Blitzo flinched. His eyes immediately snapped to the rear-view mirror; Millie and Moxxie were looking right at him, gazes worried.

"We'll get him, B," Millie said with a small yet tenacious smile. He knew who she was talking about.

"I-I know that!" Blitzo sputtered. "I'm just, uh, fucking thinking about . . . something else."

"You can say you're worried about your boyfriend, you know," Loona chimed in with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Blitzo sunk down in his seat, embarrassed. He knew it was stupid, but it still flustered him when anyone mentioned it. Not that he was embarrassed of Stolas by any means; in fact, it was the other way around. If either of them had a reason to be embarrassed, it was Stolas.

"Oh, you're still shy about that? C'mon, you two are cute!" Millie said.

"Stooop," Blitzo groaned. "I'm not fucking worried about—"

"Liar!" Moxxie yelled quickly. Blitzo pouted.

"You told him about Striker, right?" Loona asked.

Three sets of eyes landed on him. Blitzo began to sweat.

". . . Right?" Moxxie prompted after several seconds of silence.

"No," Blitzo whispered. He hunched his shoulders at their collective reactions, which were mostly disbelief.

"Why not? Doesn't he deserve to know?"

"He should have a heads up."

"Don't keep secrets from your significant other."

Blitzo shook his head fiercely. "I know, I fucking know! But what the fuck is telling him gonna do? We don't even know where Striker is! Telling Stolas right now is, is a fucking shit move, alright?"

There was a lapse of silence. Blitzo ran a hand over his head, threading his fingers through and over his spikes. He tapped a beat on the steering wheel.

"Okay, what? What the fuck are you all doing?" Blitzo finally snapped after the lull became too much for him. "If you have something to fucking say, say it."

It was another few seconds before anyone spoke.

"You want to protect him," Moxxie said levelly, "that's honorable, Sir. But we have Striker's rifle, he can't hurt Stolas without it. And maybe his Majesty could help us find him."

Blitzo rubbed his face. "That's the thing, Mox. I don't fucking know if we can even find the snake bastard. He vanished in like two damn seconds after jumping out the window. He's clearly highly skilled in that area. And who fucking knows? Maybe he's not alone, maybe he's got more holy weapons." He sighed as he took the exit to Imp City, finally leaving the dry and desolate landscape of Wrath behind them. "We can't underestimate him. And I don't want to bother Stolas by adding this to the mix. Guy's already got a lot going on, with his wife and kid and going through this whole . . . thing."

That got a couple of strange looks.

"With me," Blitzo added as if they hadn't already understood that.

"So, we're not goin' to hunt down Striker at all?" Millie asked with an air of disappointment.

"It'd be a lost cause." Blitzo shrugged helplessly. "And we can't focus on that; there's still a business to run. Catching that slithery dipshit isn't gonna pay the bills. Although it would bring me immense satisfaction to hang his fuckin' head on my wall."

"But what if he gets to Stolas next time? He nearly had him. You walking in on him was purely accident," Moxxie pointed out. "If we at least told his Majesty, he could up his security."

Blitzo grunted, thinking. Moxxie was right; if not for the fact he'd ended up walking into the room where Striker had been literally scoping in on Stolas' head, the prince very well could have died.

Right under Blitzo's nose.

"But if the whole reason Striker was there, to kill Stolas, he would have known he wouldn't have security. Stolas mentioned to me beforehand that he liked the festival and that he felt safe there," Blitzo said, brain trying to put the pieces together.

"Is it a well-known fact the prince doesn't bring guards with him?" Millie asked.

"I don't know. But any regular moron would have to assume yes because almost every royal or high up demon has some kind of security wherever they go."

"That's true. A lot of royals have bodyguards who don't stand out. One might never notice them," Moxxie added.

"Not to mention the fact that Striker was workin' at my family farm for several weeks before the festival," Millie continued.

"So it was planned, that's obvious. Honestly, it was mostly because of us that Striker couldn't follow through."

". . . That's right," Blitzo muttered. He perked up suddenly. "It was only fucking us! Think about it. Stolas would have been there alone if he hadn't invited us. Easy target, blessed rifle, Stolas dead. But you, Mox, you ended up finding Striker's gun because he kept harassing you. You two fought him, he locked you up, and I didn't go to the festival because Stolas was being, well, Stolas."

"Striker must have known that Stolas wouldn't have bodyguards. Not many demons tussle with Hell's royalty 'less they have a death wish," Millie said.

"And there's no way an imp gets that kind of firepower on their own. Any holy weapon found is immediately scooped up by Overlords," Moxxie said. "Most of them end up auctioned off at exclusive events."

"So, if we're going off the assumption that Striker is an assassin for hire, that would mean whoever told him had no idea that we would be there," Blitzo continued. "We ruined their attempt. There was clearly some plan in place that didn't involve us being there."

". . . Or you being there, Sir."

Blitzo made eye contact with Moxxie from the rear-view mirror.

"Me? Like just me?" the head imp clarified.

"Exactly. If not for your connection to his Majesty, none of us would have been there."

"Right. Cuz all his flirtin' flustered you away from the ceremony, and that was why you found Striker," Millie said. "I don't think anyone coulda foreseen that."

"Fuck, so . . . so maybe this is all my fault?" Blitzo stuttered.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Moxxie said ominously.

"You really think his wife would order a revenge killing?" Loona asked, finally contributing to the conversation (mostly because she had paid little attention to the whole affair at the festival).

"She is a crazy bitch," Blitzo said, "I know she hates my fucking guts like no tomorrow."

"Accusin' someone of hiring a hitman to kill their cheatin' husband is no light matter," Millie warned. "She does have motive, I have to admit. But just because the prince is sleepin' with someone else? I'm pretty sure it's a known fact that many royals have fuck buddies for miles."

"Wait, what about the book? Could this just be about that?" Loona asked. "Kill Stolas, take the book?"

"Hmm, she does have a point," Moxxie said.

"But they'd still need information from inside regardless of who wants him dead," Millie said, "which means . . ."

"It's almost certainly an inside job," Blitzo groaned. "So, who the fuck could we even trust to protect Stolas? They could all be in fucking cahoots."

"Sounds like you might need to talk to your boyfriend again, B."

"Dammit, I hate when you guys are right."