Page 33 of Demons Treasure Warlocks

“He doesn’t think about himself. What—what am I supposed to do with that?” Darius asked as he gazed at the slumbering asshole. “He does what he thinks is best for the other person, and I can’t—”

“You might have to, Dare. He needs you, and he has to look after others. We saw that when he stopped all those monsters. Come on, let’s get some food.” Isaac wrapped one arm around Darius’s shoulders and led him to the kitchen, where Adam and Trey were scooping dinner onto their plates.

Darius listened to the conversation, not paying attention to much of it. The museum’s Valentine gala was that evening, and everyone was curious about it. It was the first exhibition with cryptids being involved. He wondered briefly what Hakko expected. But his mind kept going back to seeing the sharp claws digging into Bale’s wings.

Trey avoided eye contact with him throughout breakfast while Adam and Isaac spoke. Once Darius was finished, he drifted back to where Bale rested and leaned on the doorjamb, watching. For the first time since Darius had met him, Bale seemed diminished. It was terrible and awful, so Darius was going to fix it.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, stop.”

Darius jolted and glanced down to see Bale’s eyes open and gazing back.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Darius hedged, only because he hadn’t figured out how to fix this.

“You were though. Take the win, Darius,” Bale softly ordered. Darius rolled his eyes. Like that would work.

“It’s not a win if you’re hurt,” Darius replied fiercely. He sat down near Bale’s head and rested his head on the fireplace frame. The fire was burning low, and none of the sprites were around to spy on them.

“No one got abducted, and the noodle people were vanquished into ash.” Bale reached up and grabbed Darius’s hand, squeezing it. “We’re safe.”

“For now. I have to know who sent them,” Darius pondered darkly. His plans were nebulous and would inflict all sorts of pain on anyone who’d hurt his friends. He refused to allow it. He was tired of always being caught with his pants down, and his friends had suffered for it.

It wasn’t going to happen again.

“Darius.”

“Are you going to tell me that I can’t attack?” Darius peered at Bale’s face and waited.

“Not now. We don’t know what Yellow Dick is doing or what this preemptive blitz means.” Bale winced as he rolled himself into a sitting position. He leaned on a nearby chair.

“Fuck them all. I’ll take him out,” Darius grumbled fiercely. He could imagine it as he sat beside Bale with his hurt wings and dejected shoulders.

“No.”

Darius swung his head around to stare hard at Bale, shocked at the firm answer. “What the hell do you mean no?”

“Exactly that. Help me stand. My ass is numb. It’s fucking cold, and I want what’s in the kitchen.” Bale held a hand for Darius to take, and with slow movements, he was standing on his own two feet. Caspian woke from his nap on the couch and blinked blearily at Darius. “Come on, Cas. Let’s get some food.”

Darius followed and studied the fall of Bale’s wings, wincing as he saw the extent of damage.

“Don’t worry about it, Dare. I’m giving—”

“Fuck that. If I can’t take the bad guys down, then I’m going to fix your goddamn wings,” Darius interrupted. Everyone at the table stopped talking and gaped at them as they entered the kitchen.

“Darius isn’t allowed to fight the bad guys?” Trey asked as he munched on a piece of toast. Darius turned his death glare on Trey and smirked when Trey studied his plate.

“Darius can only fight if he does some strategizing and isn’t going in half-cocked,” Bale decreed. “Can I have some bacon?”

Isaac drifted back to the stove and pulled a sheet of bacon from the oven. “Sure, I can make some toast and eggs too. Why is Darius, no, wait. Why are you not letting Darius fight?”

“Because he thinks I am going to find Whatshisface and just attack. But what does it matter? If I get it done now, we won’t have it hanging over our heads anymore.” Darius stopped Bale from speaking with another blazing sneer.

“You were sleeping for half the time. Does that count?” Trey’s words bothered Darius, and Darius wished he could muzzle him or physically zipper his lips shut.

The lights in the kitchen sparked and dimmed. Bale sighed and shook his head while the others froze in their seats. Isaac peeked at Darius, quiet and concerned, and shoved a small piece of bacon in Darius’s mouth. The bacon’s saltiness distracted Darius enough that the lights stopped flickering.

“Bad Darius.”

“That was Darius?” Caspian asked, stunned.

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