14
We make our way down through the patios and gardens, past the pools and Jacuzzis, skirt the fucking hedge maze, and traverse a crap ton of rolling green grass before the guard shack and graveyard finally pop up in the distance. I take in the bright sun and beautiful day, and start a mental list of all the places I’m going to fuck these demons in the future. I’m already on page fifty, and I haven’t even started on the inside of the house yet. So many yummy possibilities.
“So how does this work?” I ask as we get closer to the wrought iron fence bordering the front of the graveyard.
“We form a circle around the Gate, each of us will recite the vow, we sacrifice a little blood to the portal—”
“Wait. Blood?” I interrupt, looking over at Echo, alarmed by his statement. “No one said anything about blood.”
“We cut our palms and spill a couple drops of blood on the Gate, Delta. It’s not like you’re going to lose a limb or anything,” Jerif tells me, his tone laced with snark.
“Okay, that doesn’t seem so bad,” I concede. “Is the vow in English, though? Because if it’s in that Demonese language that I’ve heard you guys slip into a few times, then I’m probably going to butcher it,” I admit. “I should practice. Wouldn’t want to bind myself to the wrong thing just because I can’t say a word right, you know? One vowel slip and I could end up inducted to a gravestone or something,” I say on a nervous chuckle.
Echo looks over at me with a confused frown. “What?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, and I look around at the others, noting that the rest of the guys are wearing the same perplexed look.
“Delta...you’re speaking Hellion now,” Iceman finally answers, his tone leaking concern and bewilderment.
My brows lift up. “What? No, I’m not. I’m speaking English,” I argue.
“No, you’ve been speaking pure Hellion since we popped into Nihil,” he counters.
“Hellion? Is that seriously what it’s called? I really thought Demonese was going to be the winner. But no. I’m definitely not speaking it.” I look at Jerif to demonstrate. “I can’t wait to fuck the rude asshole out of you,” I tell him before turning to the others with a triumphant look. “See? That was totally English. I can hear it with my own two ears.”
“Wrong. That was Hellion, and I can’t wait to fuck your asshole for being rude,” Jerif rumbles back, his eyes flickering with some serious heat.
Yum!
I shake my head. “Are you guys seriously telling me that I’m speaking another language right now and I can’t even tell?” I demand, anxiety lifting my voice an octave.
They all nod, and that old overheating panic tries to take over, but I shove it down.
“Maybe when your block was removed, you tapped into your ability to speak and understand your origin language?” Iceman guesses. “We’re all born speaking Hellion for demons and Enochian for angels. We also learn mortal languages later if we need to.”
“I’ve heard some Nihil can speak and understand any language in existence. We’ll have to ask Tazreel if you’ll be able to do that too,” Crux adds.
I reel at the thought of being fluent in every language ever. That would make haggling at the flea market a little easier, but holy shit!
I tap my lips in thought. “How ’bout now…English?” I ask hopefully.
“No, still Hellion,” Jerif says with a surly, impatient look on his face.
“Dammit.” I pout.
Crux just laughs at me like I’m adorable and pulls me through the graveyard gate.
“After the bleeding and offering up my social security number and my first born child, what else does the induction include?” I ask, my tone a little more petulant than joking, because I can’t figure out how this whole language thing is working. What if I’m stuck on Hellion setting? That would sure as fuck make managing in the Mortal Realm tricky.
“Our children will already be tied to the Gate. Offering them up is just redundant,” Jerif grouses.
I snort, but then balk when what he said sinks in. “Wait. Our kids will have to Guard the Gate? They won’t get any choices in the matter?”
“First of all,” Echo starts, “we don’t have any kids, so don’t waste too much energy getting worked up about this. Second of all, do any of us even want them? I mean, we just fucked for the first time, so the little demon talk feels too soon. Third of all, yes, this position gets passed down to the next eligible member in a bloodline, but we live for—pretty much—ever unless we’re killed, so that could mean our kids won’t ever have to pick up the mantle, and our great-great-great...fuck ton of greats-grandchildren could be the ones to have to step up.”
I snort and don’t even try to wrap my mind around the live forever part of that statement.
“The Gate chooses whoever is the most powerful of that bloodline when the Guardian passes. It’s not always who you would assume it is,” Iceman tells me.
For some reason, the way he says that makes me pause. “Were you…” I trail off, not sure how to voice my question.
“Everyone assumed that the Gate duty was going to pass to my older half brother. He was, by all accounts, better than me. Physically stronger. More powerful. Rigid mental discipline. But then when the time came, the Gate chose me instead. Everyone was shocked. Myself included.”
I can hear that there’s more to the story. “Did that bother you?”
In a very uncharacteristic gesture, he reaches up and runs a hand over his dark blue hair, his fingers caressing the base of his horns. “That’s...a difficult answer.”
“Just tell her the truth,” Jerif butts in. “You were glad, because it meant you didn’t have to take a position in Avarice like all the rest of your family expected. But then you felt fucking guilty, because it meant your brother would be expected
