Chupey whined and ducked his head. “I knew you were sick, but you never told me how sick. I thought maybe it was a cold or something typical for your mortal species. You didn’t tell me it had progressed to something life-threatening.”
“You’re mydog.I didn’t think I needed to tell you this kind of stuff.”
“And not knowing about your father’s passing, I thought we had more time,” Chupey continued.
“Time for what?” I asked.
“Everything,” he replied. “Time to explain everything.”
“You had ten years.”
He looked away.
My thoughts didn’t stop spinning in my head. “Is my condition somehow tied to my father’s death?”
“He was protecting you in more ways than one.”
“How,” I demanded, beer forgotten.
“He sent me, which you already knew, but he also laid a spell to keep your demon nature in stasis. With him gone, though, his magic can no longer protect you.” He lifted his paw and set it on my lap. Though he was a demon, he had no qualms about giving me that puppy-dog look—the super sad and pathetic one that used to get him extra treats. “You will perish if you do not take the Immortal Throne and become a full demon.”
I set the beer down on the table beside the couch. “And claiming the throne is the only way to do that?”
“Can I be brutally honest?”
“You mean you weren’t before?”
“You’re dying and you’re broke. What more do you have to lose?”
Well, when he put it like that…