But the tank top? That’s gonna be a problem.
I hold it in my hands with a frown, trying to envision how I can get it to fit with my wings. With a thought, my eyes scan over to the scythe, and I walk over and pick it up. “Alright, scythe. I need you to do your thing so I can cut holes into my shirt, got it?”
It sits in my palm in walking stick mode, so I give it a little shake. “Transform. Do the Swiss move. Abracadabra. Open Sesame,” I ramble off, hoping one of those will do the trick. They don’t.
“Look, I don’t have time for this. I need you to activate,” I tell it as I start tapping the wood and metal pieces.
Still, nothing happens. A small growl escapes me. “Really? You were all trigger-happy during the demon dinner party when I almost got smote by Lucifer, but now you won’t help a girl out?”
It stays completely bladeless, and I grit my teeth. “Fine, you useless fucking scythe,” I curse it as I go to set it back down. “I’ll go find a pair of scissors instead.”
Just as I lean over to set it down on the floor again, the blade pops out, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me. “Ahh!”
I move back just in time, the blade’s edge just barely missing my arm. I glare at it where it landed against the wall. “Real fucking mature,” I sneer at it before snatching it back up.
Spreading the shirt on the counter, I carefully slice some of the fabric away on the back. I’m by no means a seamstress, so my lines are crooked as hell, but at least the holes look like they’ll be big enough.
Once I’m done, I prop the scythe up in the corner again and point at it. “You’re gonna stay there in time-out and think about what you’ve done.”
Turning, I grab the cut up tank top and step into it feet-first, before drawing it up my body and then slipping my wings one at a time through the newly cut holes. It takes a lot of effort, since I’m not at all used to having to do this, and by the time I’m finally done, I vow to only wear strapless tops that can fit beneath the base of my wings.
I lace up the boots next, and now that I’m fully dressed, I feel like everything has come full circle. When I look in the mirror again, I look the part of demon Hellgate Guardian. And this could be the amazing sex talking, but it feels right to get inducted. If I hadn’t freaked out, been in denial, and taken time to accept fate, this is how it all would have happened in the beginning. I feel like I’ve aged a decade since everything happened, but in a good way.
Finally done getting ready, I open the bathroom door to find the bed still mussed but the room empty. I walk out and wander down the hall for a couple of minutes until I find stairs that lead down. I make a note to have the guys give me a tour of this place. I have no idea where anything is, and if I’m going to be staying here… Wait. Am I going to be staying here?
That thought gives me pause. I study it for a moment as I clomp down the stairs. I’m definitely ready to commit to the Gate and to the demons already guarding it, but I haven’t given much thought to what that means for my house. My parents’ house has sentimental value. I can’t just give it up. Plus, the guys haven’t invited me to live here, either.
After hitting the bottom of the stairs, I make my way down a hallway, but it just dead ends at a window. I turn back around and head the other way.
I need a damn map.
I mean, I could live here and still work on my house. Fix it up in my spare time and use it to get away. Or I could sell it to someone in need of a dream home and the dreams that come with it. I decide to talk to my parents about it the next time I go to see them at the graveyard. I’ll have to mull it over and feel their presence to make a decision one way or another.
When the hallway dead ends yet again, I give out a huff and stop in my tracks. “Marco!” I yell out.
“Polo!” I hear the call faintly from somewhere behind me, so I retrace my steps.
“Marco!” I call again.
It only takes five more minutes of that back and forth before I find the guys in a kitchen. It’s not the medieval kitchen I wandered into the first night I worked here, but a slightly more modern looking one, though still sans electricity and a microwave. Regardless of whether or not it works, I might just need to put a microwave in here, because a kitchen without one is just kind of creepy. Fern would also liven this place up, so maybe I could bring her too. I mean, I can’t be the only one allowed to live it up in Medieval R Us. I could even get her a potted boyfriend. Or four.
The place has all bamboo counters set off with dark tiles, and a huge stainless steel sink. There’s a butler’s pantry off to the side, and from my vantage point, I can see the open-cupboards filled with canisters, cans, jars, and bottles of all shapes and sizes.
As soon I make my way inside the open space and grab the open stool at the island, Iceman hands me a cup of coffee and a bagel.
“Took you long enough,” Jerif grumps across from me. “Thought we were going to have
