“It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does to tops.”
“Fine, I’m an ass.” Wally dramatically gestured to himself. “One who was clearly wrong about you feeling down.”
“Precisely.” I folded my arms, turning my nose up at him.
“So this present I got you was just a big ole waste.”
“Exactly.” I paused, blinking. “Wait, what?”
“I should just toss it and be done with it.”
“No. A gift? For me? Gimme!”
I loved presents. Everything about them was fun. Picking them out. Finding them wrapped. The anticipation. Tearingthem open. The surprise when what you demanded was actually gifted. The side-eyed contempt when unworthy offerings were presented instead. Diabolics didn’t celebrate birthdays. In fact, we didn’t have any holidays in Hell. And granted, mortals had this absurd need to celebrate everything from the momentous to the mundane. Did sporks need a national day of remembrance? No. Did they have one? Possibly. Because mortals obsessed over chronicling everything, which was ridiculous since they all lived such short lives. But alas, they got birthdays right.
“I’m definitely counting this toward your birthday present.”
“You are not!” I flexed my fingers with the look of grabby hands.
“Fine,” Wally dragged out the word with an expression torn between a smile and a pouty little face. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Birthdays were my favorite, which was why I gave myself three of them. Based on the zodiacs Wally had introduced me to, I figured I was a Gemini sometimes, a Scorpio most of the time, and on rare occasions, I was such a sassy Virgo.
Wally held up one of the gems. “For you.”
“It’s not even wrapped.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly have time.” He plopped it into my open palm.
It was the ruby Wally had threatened Abe with. Only instead of a bright red, it had a dark scarlet gloss to it. Pretty enough. But a useless trinket. “Thank you.”
“It’s a spiritus stone. Made from golems, crafted by goblins, enchanted by specters.”
“Super fun.” My attention waned because while I knew he wanted to be generous, this seemed more like a gift for Wally. Something to allow him to share random facts, which was fine. Normally. But I got hyped for a present, and now I had this junk.
“Not only do they control the dead, keep them in check, but they can hold souls virtually forever,” Wally explained. “Well, notforeverforever. So long as the stone remains intact.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I figured with everything that Magus Remington did to you, then he should rot in there for at least as long as you did.”
“Oh, he’ll stay in there so much longer.”
All those years left trapped inside that Diabolic orb, placed on a mantle as a trophy, forced to listen to Abe’s jabs whenever he deigned to acknowledge my pitiful existence. I contemplated every way I would eviscerate him if I ever escaped. And then I did find freedom. I reached him, I planned to end him, but he’d already been slain. A brutal death but far too quickly. It was nice knowing I had a second chance at vengeance.
“Thank you so much! This is the perfect present.” I pulled him close with my tail and kissed him. “You’re absolutely devilish, Wally.”
23
Wally
“Revenge is not a gift,” Kell said as we worked on sorting the various shattered Diabolic orbs.
It was a difficult enough task to put one back together, but in order to do so properly, we had to align the right pieces. It also involved cleaning off a lot of blood that’d stained the glass.
“Well, it’s not a gift you just hand out all willy-nilly,” Kell continued. “If I offer vengeance as a present, I save it for big anniversary gifts. Mora loves a cold dish of revenge served with a side of captive enemies.”