Archive of Our Own ^beta

“She doesn’t like me,” Stolas lamented, flopping back against the pillows.

Blitz lifted his head up from between Stolas’ spread thighs, tongue still poking out of his mouth. He took in the wistful frown wrought across Stolas’ face and coughed once into the soft, downy feathers caging his cheeks.

“Uh, who’re we talking about right now?” he asked, and Stolas’ red eyes flashed with annoyance.

“Loona!” he exclaimed as though this should have been obvious information and what a fool Blitz was for not inferring this from the tone of his sigh. “She detests me. It obvious.”

He threw his head back on the pillows and tossed an arm over his face. Blitz half expected some rose petals to drift from his fingers with the theatrics of it all. Alas, Stolas just lied there, peeking through his fingers after a moment, saw that Blitz was watching, then went back to his agonised swoon.

“Okay,” Blitz sighed and shuffled up from between Stolas’ legs, the mention of his daughter well and truly killing the mood. He crawled across the sheets, up the lengthy length of Stolas’ body to burrow under his arm and settle down by his side instead. Idly stroking his fingers through the plush feathers of Stolas’ chest, he said, “What makes you say that?”

Stolas lowered his arm enough for Blitz to see his eyes staring moodily up at the ceiling. “Everything. She barely looks at me. She never smiles at me.”

“That’s just Loona,” Blitz said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with everyone.”

Stolas didn’t know the half of it. It had taken him weeks after her adoption to even get Loona to call him something over than jerkass or dickface. A real creative girl, his Loonie. Now, over five years later, she was still prickly as a hedgehog but a hedgehog with a marshmallowy centre, like one of those limited-edition chocolate candies they only sold in the stores for a few weeks around the spring solstice.

Blitz’s mouth watered just thinking of it.

“But at least she talks to you,” Stolas complained, turning his head on the pillow until they were facing each other, Blitz’s own reflection mirrored in the red glaze of Stolas’ eyes. “I swear, whenever I enter a room, she just pulls out her phone and pretends like I’m not there. Have you ever tried to make small talk with a brick wall, Blitz? It’s just impossible.”

Blitz rolled out his shoulders, humming as he considered Stolas’ words. “Y’know, she’s probably just a lil’ shy. Doesn’t know what to say to you.”

“But that’s just the problem, isn’t it?” Stolas said, his hand coming up to circle Blitz’s wrist, even as he continued to card his fingers through soft feathers. “She’s uncomfortable around me. Still sees me as an outsider, even after all this time.”

All this time being months since that botched trial with Satan and the Sins, months since Stolas had been stripped of his powers and status, months since he’d taken the fall for their shared fuck-up and fallen out with Octavia. Not so many months since the truth had been brought to light—Striker’s hit on Stolas being organised by none other than his bitchy ex-wife, that her cunty snow princess of a brother had tried to pin it on Blitz, and Stolas had been able to reconnect with his daughter. His powers were still limited, a lasting punishment over technically breaking demon law (fake conspiracy to take over the human world notwithstanding), but that all paled in the face of Octavia being able to live with them.

In their new apartment that had three whole bedrooms! Blitz had been pretty jazzed about the new place but when they’d all stepped through the door on moving day, Octavia had lowered her hood, looked around at the unfurnished floors and said, “Is this it?”, promptly bursting Blitz’s bubble. He supposed it must have been scraps compared to what she was used to, growing up in a fucking palace of all places. A modest apartment in the heart of Imp City would’ve been a serious downgrade in her eyes.

As were her new housemates.

Blitz had originally asked if it would be easier for them all to move into the empty Goetian palace, but Stolas had been staunchly against it, explaining that he didn’t want to live in a place haunted by memories of his ex-wife and his own misery. He wanted them to start out somewhere new together.

“As a family,” he’d said, and Blitz hadn’t missed the way both Loona and Octavia had cringed.

“Yeah, well,” Blitz grumbled, rolling onto his back and folding his arms behind his head. “You’re not the only one with that problem.”

Stolas turned on his hip, propping his chin up on his elbow to blink down at him. “You mean Via?”

Blitz silently nodded. Since Octavia had turned eighteen and left her mom to be with them in the aftermath of the truth, Blitz had felt the tension between them as a tangible force. She was never outright rude to him or anything, but she wasn’t exactly exuding warm, friendly vibes either. She seemed mostly determined to ignore him, however, whenever they did have to interact on the odd occasion, she was frosty as an Envy ocean in winter.

Blitz would wave to her on the couch when he came home at the end of the day? Octavia would give a clipped, “Hey,” and put her headphones in. Octavia would mention wanting to go to the record store and when Blitz would offer to drive her, she’d insist on taking the bus instead. Blitz would hear her stomach grumble and offer to make her something to eat and Octavia would insist she wasn’t hungry and lock herself in her room with a bag of potato chips.

Not exactly the happy family unit he or Stolas had been hoping for.

But Blitz didn’t blame her for feeling the way she clearly did about him. Not after he’d dropped a bomb on her parents’ marriage with his dick and nearly gotten her dad killed. Were he in her shoes, he’d be plotting the demise of his dad’s mistress via complicated—but totally fucking cool—homemade traps. Maybe a nail bomb or a secret electric taser attached to the doorknob.

“It’s all been so much for her,” Stolas sighed. “It’s no wonder she’s taking a little time to…adjust.”

Especially when her dad had gone from being married to some hoity-toity rich bird bitch to Blitz, who neither hoity, toity, rich, but still a bitch. He’d feel ripped off too in her position.

Suddenly, Stolas perked up, his head feathers fluffing up with more than just sex hair. “I have an idea! Why don’t you take Via out for some quality time? I’m sure once she gets to know you better in a more one-on-one situation, she’ll open up. You could make a whole day of it!”

“Uhhh, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Blitz asked, Octavia’s scowl already playing through his mind.

“Certainly!” Stolas rolled out of bed and plucked his robe from the corner of the bedpost. Threading his arms through it, he said over his shoulder, “You’re the most charming demon I’ve ever met, Blitz. I’m sure Via will be able to see that too if you meet her halfway.”

Blitz pushed himself up into a sitting position as he turned Stolas’ words over in his mind. Doubt still nibbled at his nerves, but what else could he do? He had to try, if not for his own sake than for Stolas. And he didn’t want Octavia to look at him like some rat infesting her home. He wanted her to…shit, like him? Accept him? Want him to be a part of her family like he did for her?

“Okay,” he said, deciding out loud. To Stolas’ back, he added, “And you can do the same thing with Loona.”

Stolas froze in the action of tying up his sash. His head swung round at 180 degrees so he could blink those big red peepers at him. He coughed once before saying, “Um, what?”

“Yeah,” Blitz said, trying to force some cheer into his voice. He slid off the bed and trotted over to Stolas, winding his arms around his narrow hips and threading his hands together, just above the base of his tailfeathers. Resting his chin against Stolas’ navel, he went on, “I take Octavia for the day and you take Loona. We do some mutual daddy/daughter bonding time and kill two birds with one stone.” When Stolas just blinked down at him, Blitz replaying his own words in his head and cringed, nearly biting down on his tongue. “Ahh, I mean, we’ll—y’know—get the job done. Why don’t we just tell the girls?”

He unwrapped his arms from Stolas’ waist and marched back, heading for the door, but his tail went suddenly taught, bringing him up short.

“Darling,” Stolas purred behind him and Blitz stumbled back as he was reeled in by the tail until his back thumped into Stolas’ feathery front. Fingers traced his shoulders and down the centre of his chest as Stolas’ spoke into his ear in his husky, rumbling voice. “Don’t you think you might want to put on some pants first? Not that I’m complaining but we did have that talk about boundaries the other day.”

Blitz glanced down at himself, only remembering he was naked when he was faced with the image of his bare skin. He laughed, a touch of embarrassment making his cheeks warm as he stepped out of Stolas’ arms and stooped down to grab his boxers off the floor.

“Right. Guess we’ll have to finish this-“ Blitz flicked a finger between the two of them then jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the bed, “-later.”

Stolas’ eyes dipped to half-moons, the smoulder of his pupilless, scarlet gaze sending a shiver of desire spider-walking down Blitz’s spine.

“I look forward to it,” Stolas said in that sexy, come-hither tone that always made Blitz want to rip the clothes straight off his feathered ass.

Later, he told himself as he hopped into his pants. First, he needed to convince Octavia that he was worthy of her sexy dad.

“Guess what, girls!” Stolas exclaimed, sweeping into the living room, Blitz staggering after him as he pulled his shirt down, over his horns.

He caught a glimpse of Octavia and Loona, both in the living room on opposite sides of the sofa, beak and nose buried in their phones. They looked up at the sound of Stolas’ chipper voice, trepidation flitting across both of their gazes.

“What?” Octavia asked, plucking out one earbud.

“No,” Loona said flatly, turning back to her phone.

“Blitz and I have a big surprise for you both,” Stolas went on in the same sunny tone as though neither of them had spoken. “We’ve decided to plan a day trip for all of us.”

“A what?” Loona shot back, her thumb pausing, hovering over her phone screen.

Blitz finally managed to straighten his clothes up and rose up to his full height beside Stolas, hands landing on his hips. “You heard him. Loona, you’re going with Stolas and Octavia, you’re with…meee.”

His voice warbled on the last word despite his best efforts to inject some enthusiasm into his tone but it was hard when Octavia was staring at him like he’d just delivered the news that her beloved pet hamster had died.

Maybe not a hamster. That didn’t seem Octavia’s speed. Perhaps a lobster or a really cool rock with some googly eyes glued to it.

The girls shared a look in the ensuing silence before looking back at Blitz and Stolas.

“Why?” Loona demanded.

“Are we being punished?” Octavia added.

Blitz could feel his smile slipping. How did one go about forcing something to want to spend time with you? He glanced up to Stolas for guidance.

Stolas just waved their concerns away with a flap of his hand. “Oh, don’t be so negative, girls! Today is all about having fun. You both deserve to enjoy your downtime.”

“What about work?” Loona asked and it was Blitz’s turn to dismiss this with a pffft.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetie. I’ve got it covered.”

Artwork by Emei

Moxxie enjoyed opening up the office, if only because it gave him and Millie some time alone to ready themselves for the workday without…distractions from their colleagues. He would never say he was unhappy with Stolas joining I.M.P. On the contrary, ever since they’d acquired a secretary who actually did their job, work had never been smoother. No longer did he find stacks of unorganised paperwork squirrelled away in the lunchroom cupboard, ready to collapse onto him when he opened it up to reach for his favourite mug. That part wasn’t the problem, it was more so that Loona now accompanied them on their fieldwork, and there were only so many eyerolls and comments about cankles that a man could take before he lost it.

There was also the fact that Blitz and Stolas making goo-goo eyes at each other across the office and having entirely unsubtle quickies in the supply closet was more than a little disconcerting. He couldn’t bring that up though, because Blitz would just call him a titty-sucking hypocrite. So, he just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed the early mornings with his wife.

“Wonder where the others are?” Millie wondered aloud, perched on the edge of Stolas’ desk and kicking her hooves.

“I’m sure they’re on their way,” Moxxie assured her, passing her a mug of freshly-brewed coffee with a peck on the cheek. “If Blitz hasn’t taken a short cut-“ He curled his fingers in air quotes. “-and somehow gotten lost in Greed. Or Loona didn’t kill all of them for changing the radio station. Or Stolas didn’t accidentally park the van by a fire hydrant and get it towed. Again.”

Millie snickered into her mug just as a rippling portal opened up in the middle of the office. Moxxie blinked in surprise as Blitz waltzed in, coat draped over his arm and whistling to himself.

“Sir?” he questioned, glancing over Blitz’s shoulder when no one else followed him out. “Where are the others? And why’re you travelling through your crystal?”

“Well, I’m so glad you asked, Mox,” Blitz sang, stepping around Millie, who tucked in her legs to let him pass. He snatched up Moxxie’s notebook that he’d left on the desk and immediately began scribbling away in it. Moxxie opened his mouth to protest but then Blitz was talking again, drowning out his words. “Stolas, Loona and I are taking the day off for some family bonding time which means you two lucky fuckers are holdin’ down the fort today!”

He shot the two of them matching finger guns and tore a sheet from the notebook without looking. Stuffing the paper into his pocket, he gave a quick salute and sauntered back over to the portal.

Moxxie scrambled to follow him. “But, Sir! What about our stack of missions? And- And customer calls? You can’t just take the day off with half the staff with no notice!”

Blitz swung round on his heel, nearly bashing his horns across Moxxie’s face and gave him that sickly sweet grin that always had Moxxie’s teeth grinding. “Actually, I can do whatever the fuck I want. One of the perks of being your own boss. Maybe if you actually got off your ass for once and tried makin’ something of yourself instead of sucking on my titties you’d know a thing or two about that, Moxxie.”

He accompanied his words with a few swift pokes to Moxxie’s chest, knocking his bowtie askew and making him grunt. With a salute at Millie, Blitz hopped back through the portal, calling out a, “Have fun, you two!” as he disappeared.

The portal vanished with a zap of orange light. Moxxie stared at the spot, his mouth hanging open, the only sound in the room the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“What,” he began, “the fuck?”

Millie hummed into her mug, looking entirely too unconcerned for the amount of outrage currently flowing through Moxxie’s body.

“Does that mean we get to be the boss today?” she asked chipperly.

Moxxie just groaned.

Stolas stared into his teacup and cleared his throat for the hundredth time in the past half hour. That was equalling up to about three coughs per minute. Any more and Loona might start to think he had a throat condition, or worse: that he was nervous. Glancing across the finely-dressed table at her, he couldn’t help it though. She just sat there, looking entirely out of place in her ripped-up clothing—distressed, Via had called it, which was certainly an apt descriptor for how Stolas was feeling—and staring down at her phone with a sour expression on her face. Decidedly not looking at him.

Swallowing down a mouthful of nerves and tea, Stolas surveyed the table. Perhaps the fine china holding cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, roasted rat legs, and sugared almonds wasn’t to her liking? He thought he’d gone with quite a safe array of appetisers. Rat legs had been just about the only thing that had kept Via from squirming out of her chair when he used to bring her to high tea with Stella. Family outings had always been easier when Stella was given food. It meant she couldn’t curse him out and chew at the same time, lest she spit seeds from her mouth in view of other people.

Maybe it was the scenery then? He glanced about at the indoor garden they were seated in, the glass walls and ceiling encased around the lush plant life all around offering them privacy. There was the faint chatter of the restaurant inside the main building, the murmur of voices and soft tinkling of a piano creating a perfect atmosphere of relaxing ambiance. The fragment scent of the blooming flowers all around them was the cherry on top of the metaphorical pie.

So why did Loona look so fed up? Stolas had always loved coming to this place for high tea. Allowing himself to bask in the clean air, savour the light food and let his mind loosen the tight drawstrings he always had to keep himself sinched tight in was a dream. A reprieve from the stifling responsibilities of his home life. It was second only to being in the open cosmos, basking in the wonder of the stars and moons of the universe.

Clearly, Loona didn’t share these sentiments.

“So!” Stolas chirped, cracking the deafening silence between them with all the grace of a sledge hammer smashing down on a crème brule. Loona flicked her eyes up at him and he forced a smile, tugging at the ruffled neck of his collar. “How do you, um, like your tea, Loona?”

Loona rolled her eyes, returning her attention to her phone. “I don’t drink tea.”

“Oh.” Stolas’ shoulders drooped before he straightened up in his seat once more. “Well, perhaps we could find the waiter to bring you some coffee?”

“No caffeine after six,” she replied without looking at him.

Stolas fished his pocket watch from his waistcoat and flicked the glass face open. It had just gone noon.

He returned the watch to his pocket and fidgeted on the spot before quickly grabbing at his phone in his other pocket. Unlocking the screen, he quickly brought up his text conversation with Blitz, ignoring the bathroom mirror nude he’s sent Stolas yesterday and tapped the call button.

Rising from his seat, he gave Loona a nervous laugh and said, “Sorry, dear, I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t respond so Stolas took that as a go ahead and dashed to hide behind a shrub cut into the shape of a moose as Blitz picked up the phone.

“’Ello? You alright, Stols?”

“No, I am not alright!” Stolas hissed in a hushed tone. “This is going terribly! She’s barely said two words since we sat down. I have no idea what to say to her!”

He poked his head out from behind the neatly-trimmed leaves to their table. Loona had propped her paws up on the starch white tablecloth, tossing an almond in the air and catching it in her mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Blitz replied, his voice through the speaker alone a soothing balm to Stolas’ rapidly beating heart.

He tried taking deep breaths and focusing on Blitz’s words, not the voice in his head that was scowling at him, telling him what an awful job he was doing with Blitz’s daughter who was now also supposed to be his daughter.

“I saw somethin’ like this coming,” Blitz was saying. Stolas could practically hear his smug grin as he added, “Which is why I wrote down a list of Loona’s favourite things and slipped it in your back pocket. A lil’ Loonie cheat sheet!”

Stolas blinked. “Really?” He blindly pawed at his pants pocket and heard the crumple of paper. Plucking it out, he stared at the folded-up square in wonderment. “I just thought you were trying to cop a feel before we all headed out.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Blitz answered, “That’s called a win/win, birdie. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, Blitz,” Stolas gushed, wedging his phone between his cheek and shoulder to unfold the note. “I can’t thank you enough. I-“ His words came to an abrupt halt as he scanned the paper, his confusion mounting with every second. “Milk, bread, toilet paper—Blitz? I had no idea Loona was so interested in…shopping lists?”

“What?” Blitz barked in his ear. “What’re you talking about? I wrote that fuckin’ list this morning! Where the fuck is it?”

Moxxie gingerly lowered himself into what was once Loona’s seat, now was Stolas’ seat, but definitely wasn’t his seat. Millie had scurried into Blitz’s office almost as soon as he’d left, claiming she had to dress appropriately for the day—whatever that meant—leaving Moxxie with the unenviable task of handling the client side of things.

Which was no problem. He was great at paperwork and even better at talking to people. He would’ve bet his bacon on being better at it than Loona at any rate.

“Oh!” He perked up in his seat and reached for his notebook. “Bacon, right…”

He flipped open the notebook to add rashers to his shopping list but frowned as he brought his pencil down to the paper. Squinting at the messy handwriting, he read aloud, “Lady punk music. Shit-talking that bitch, Becky. Making fun of Moxxie—What the Hell is this?”

The phone rang, jingling away on the dock, distracting Moxxie from the conundrum of his missing shopping list. Clearing his throat and putting on an air of absolute respectability, he picked up the phone.

“Hello? You’ve reached I.M.P HQ. You’re speaking with second in command, Moxxie. How many I direct your call?”

Nailed it.

“God fuckin’ damn it, Moxxie,” Blitz groaned, pinching his brow.

His phone practically vibrated in his hands with distress as Stolas let out a loud coo of alarm. “Blitz! What am I supposed to do? I-“

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye caught Blitz’s notice. He glanced over at the finely dressed demon standing in the corner of the gallery, lowering her sunglasses and pointedly flicking her eyes back and forth between him and the No cell phones sign hung on the wall between two paintings that looked similar to the rat shit he’d scraped off the bottom of his boot that morning. The fuck were these people even for anyway? Bodyguards for paintings? Those poor canvases had lost it all the moment they’d been assaulted by the brush of whatever sicko had spewed their mommy issues all over them in shades of burnt umber.

“Sorry, Stolas,” Blitz hissed while flashing the snobby demon a grin. “I gotta go.”

“But-!”

Blitz hung up and shoved the phone deep into his pocket. He was sure Stolas would give him an earful about it later, but right now he had smaller birds to fry. Ducking out from behind the marble pillar, he scurried back to Octavia’s side where she was gazing up at a huge painting of…black. Just a big rectangle of the same shade of black smeared across the canvas. He glanced at Octavia, who just continued to stare at it unblinkingly and cleared his throat with a short cough.

“It, uh, really says something about the demon condition, huh?” he tried.

Octavia’s eyes slid across to look at him, the same pretty red shade as her dad’s. “You really think that?”

“Sure!” Blitz bolstered, scratching at the back of his head and trying to ignore the cool sweat that was beginning to bead along his forehead. “I took an intro to art class in the college I dropped out of. I’ve got a lotta thoughts about art ‘n shit. Like, this guy probably was trying to make some kinda grand statement about war, and, uh, child hunger. Deep shit like that, right?”

He couldn’t stop talking. He told his mouth to fucking zip it and shut up, but he just kept babbling, even as Octavia turned to face him fully. When he did manage to clamp his stupid jaws shit, Octavia blew out a single puff of air, disturbing some of the feathers flopped over her eye.

“I think,” she began in that signature monotone voice of hers, “that this artist was making a statement about the mind-numbing, black void of boredom.” She turned back to the painting and sighed. “I know how it feels.”

Then she was trudging off to the next painting, some surrealistic oil piece of some guy sniffing a lemon.

Blitz’s shoulders drooped as he stared after her retreating back. Fuck. He was royally blowing this. Stolas had been so excited at the prospect, at the idea that Blitz could finally connect with his daughter and put a band aid over the huge gash he’d torn down the centre of her life by fucking her dad and helping expose her mom and uncle as criminals, and he was messing it all up, as usual.

Sucking in a breath, Blitz rallied himself. He couldn’t afford to get sucked into the weeds of his own self-doubt and misery. This shit wasn’t about him. It was about Octavia. About making her feel welcome and like her life wasn’t totally screwed up forever. She could still thrive and enjoy herself, even if she didn’t like him. The whole reason he’d taken her to this rich-bitch art gallery was because he thought this would be something she would like. He would often catch her scribbling away in her sketchbook, though she’d always shield it from his view whenever he walked past, keeping her drawings secret from him.

Blitz could be an art guy. He could be high-brow and sophisticated. He’d disguised himself as a food critic to infiltrate that fancy restaurant and gut that asshole chef that one time, after all. This shit would be child’s play in comparison.

So, squaring his shoulders, he hurried after Octavia, into the room marked the Clarence Fooley Exhibit. He caught up to her as she stood there, examining a bunch of black and white photographs of a fat incubus lounging across a bare bed in various sexy poses, the only thing blocking his cock from view being a strategically placed teddy bear.

“Y’know,” Blitz piped up, earning a hooded look from Octavia, “if you like this, er—” He vaguely gestured at a photo of the incubus on his side, a rose held between his teeth and winking at the camera. “-Stuff, I’m sure we can find some cool shit at the gift shop. That was always my favourite part of coming to these kinda-“

“Well, well, well.”

Blitz froze mid-word as the deep voice rumbled behind him. Recognition pricked at the back of his neck as he slowly turned around, that prick turning into an icepick the size of Satan’s rod as he saw the looming figure stood only a few feet away, flanked on either side by equally looming figures.

“Look what we got here, boys,” Louie Flappyfins spat. “Guess they’ll let anyone in here nowadays.”

Blitz didn’t know if that was his last name, but the shark demon seemed to have lost whatever kept his dorsal fin erect long ago, as it now flopped about on his back like a used condom.

“Ah, great,” Blitz sighed with a roll of his eyes. “The guppy squad back together again. The fuck’re you three doin’ here?”

Louis glared down at Blitz from beneath the brim of his grey pinstriped trilby. With a sniff, her jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at one of the other sharks. “Not that it’s any a’ your business, but Frank here happens to have a real appreciation for the arts.”

The shark—Frank—nodded silently and threw out a salute at the tasteful incubus nudes.

“The better question,” Louie went on, stalking closer to Blitz until his long shadow engulfed him, “is what a cheapskate like you is doin’ here.”

He bent over at the waist to jab a finger into Blitz’s chest, irritation radiating from the touch, right up to the tips of Blitz’s horns. The two of them snarled at each other, Blitz’s hand itching to ball up into a fist and jam itself down Louie’s whore throat, when Octavia spoke up.

“Um, sorry? Who are you?” she asked, stepping forward and flicking a confused look between the lot of them.

Blitz instantly stepped back from Louie and in front of Octavia, trying to usher her behind him. “No one, sweetie, don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep moving, ‘mkay?”

He pushed at her back, the need to make a speedy escape from this situation becoming more pressing by the second. But his fool-proof plan was foiled by Louie stepping in front of them, his tail whipping at the air behind him.

“Not so fast,” he growled, sweeping an appraising eye up and down Octavia that had Blitz’s hackles rising. “Who ya got here? Gettin’ into the sex trafficking ring now, Blitzo?”

Blitz’s eye twitched of its own accord and he stood on his toes to wrap a protective arm around Octavia’s shoulders. “Fuck off, ass feeder! This is my daughter.”

He lifted his chin defiantly and squashed Octavia against his side.

She grimaced, peeling his hand from her arm as she said gruffly, “Step-daughter. And hardly. You and my dad aren’t even married.”

Blitz opened his mouth to refute that this was a technicality and had no bearing on his Satan-given right to be a daddy to as many kids as he wanted, regardless of if they were legal adults or spawned from his little red sack, but he was rudely interrupted by Louie once again.

“Don’t care who you are, chickie,” he growled, glowing eyes zeroed in on Blitz. In a flash, he pushed his suit jacket back, revealing a holster strapped to his hips. His hand landed on the grip of a shiny pistol and he pulled it out, the barrel winking under the display lights. “But your daddy here owes us. And we intent to collect.”

At his sides, the other two sharks pulled squally shiny guns from their hiding places, aiming the barrels point-blank at Blitz. Had he been on his own, Blitz would’ve handled this situation as he did with everything else: some good ol’ fashioned fisticuffs and enough blood to justify his own tampon business. His muscles tensed, his tail locked, ready to do just that, but then he felt Octavia stiffen beside him and realised that wasn’t an option. Octavia was no wilting flower, but she wasn’t Loona either; used to bloodshed and mayhem. She’d grown up in a fancy palace, not working at an assassination business. He had to be responsible and shit.

“Oookay,” Blitz warbled, holding his arms out to block Octavia and flicking his gaze between the three sharks slowly advancing on them. “Let’s all just-“

“Excuse me.”

All heads swivelled around to stare at the not-security guard, glaring crossly at the lot of them, her hands braced on her hips.

“No drawn weapons in the gallery,” she sniffed.

Blitz’s eyes ping-ponged from her to Louie and he released the tension in his body.

“You heard the lady,” he quipped, drawing his own handgun and pulling down on the trigger without hesitation.

The shot fired with a mighty crack, blowing the head off the no-name shark Blitz couldn’t be bothered to remember. His skull exploded, blood and brain matter spraying the photographs behind them as well as the stark white walls. Frank gasped and the woman let out a shrill scream as Blitz burst into motion, grabbing Octavia’s wrist and turning on the jets. He dragged her from the room as Louie let out a yell of rage, followed by another shot. The bullet just grazed the curve of Blitz’s horn, knocking him off-balance for a moment, but he righted his footing before he could tumble to the ground and pull Octavia down with him.

“What the fuck!” Octavia shouted as she ran along beside him, gripping her beanie to keep it from flying off her head. She kept trying to look over her shoulder at the pounding footsteps pursuing them but Blitz kept his grip on her, tugging at her arm and pulling her along. “Who are those guys and why do they want your head?”

“Just some low-lifes,” Blitz yelled back over the sound of gunfire. He released Octavia’s wrist to vault over a statue of an inverted mermaid, legs on the bottom and fish on the top. He spun on his heel, firing a few shots of his own, then dealt a swift kick to the statue, sending it crashing to the floor. Marble chunks burst apart on impact along with a shower of white dust. In a happier world, it would’ve been a bag of coke, but as it was, it was hopefully a distraction that would buy them a few extra seconds. He seized Octavia once more as Louie and Frank crashed into the room, grunting as they stepped on bits of sculpted fish scales. “Some guy I borrowed some money from.”

“Well, did you pay him back?” Octavia gasped, ducking down as another bullet zipped over their heads.

Artwork by Emei

“Fuck no!” Blitz bellowed as they reached the entrance hall. He leaped down the last few stairs until his boots clacked against the tiled floor. “That was, like, five years ago! Everyone knows debts cancel out after three.”

Octavia gawked at him as they raced for the door. “Do they?”

“You motherfucker!” Louie roared at their retreating backs. “You ruined the gallery for Frankie!”

Clarence Fooley stood in the middle of his exhibit, mouth hanging open as he surveyed the wall of his finest work, now painted with blood. His own face smouldered back at him from behind a curtain of cerebral fluid as the gallery curator sobbed at his side.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fooley!” she cried. “It was these- these lunatics. They were being disruptive all day and then there were guns being drawn, which I reminded them was strictly against the gallery rules but-“ She shook her head, face buried in her hands. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. All your gorgeous work ruined.”

But Clarence held up a staying hand. He stepped closer to the photos that had given him such grief for the last few months, now sprayed in the bodily fluids of the headless corpse still being cleaned up by the janitorial staff.

“It’s not ruined,” he whispered, staring at his exhibit. “It…It’s beautiful.”

She paused in her sobbing to lift her head and squint watery eyes at him, mascara streaked down her cheeks. “Wait, what?”

“This-“ Clarence gasped, his bubbling excitement making his creative soul quiver in his seal skin boots, “-really says something about the demon condition.” He spun around, throwing his arms out at the horrific, commanding display. “This is art.”

The curator dabbed at her cheeks with a silk hanky, blinking as she, too, doubtless saw the beauty that Clarence saw. She joined him by his side and the two of them gazed up at the display in quiet wonderment.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You know, it really is.”

“Yes,” Clarence said, his lip quivering with excitement as he reached for his belt buckle. “It’s inspiring me. I need to take more photographs right now! Quick! Where’s the closest teddy bear?”

“Blitz? Blitz!” Stolas hissed into his phone, but it just sat there in his hand, unresponsive.

With a groan, he stuffed it back in his pocket and ran his hands through his headfeathers. How dare Blitz hang up on him and abandon him in his time of need? Did he not realise that this was an emergency? He was off, having a pleasant time with Via while Stolas was left to flounder with-

“Uh, hey? You okay over there?”

Stolas’ head shot up and he swerved his neck nearly a half turn around to blink at Loona, who stared back at him with a raised eyebrow from the table. With a start, he realised he’d taken a step back from the shrub sometime during his hurried conversation with Blitz, revealing himself for her to judge, as she was want to do.

“Oh!” He straightened up, smoothing down his puffed-up feathers with a forced laugh. “Yes, of course. I do apologise for that. Now, um, where were we?”

He swept back over to the table, his cape fluttering behind him as he stooped back into his seat. His smile felt unnatural on his own face, like it was being held together by fraying stitches. Loona’s answering expression wasn’t even disdainful, just bland, which was somehow worse.

What Stolas wouldn’t have given to just have some idea of how to talk to her. Octavia had always been a little prickly, but even in her surliest states, she’d always had a soft centre, enough chinks in her armour for him to worm his way past that tough exterior. With Loona though, there were no such gaps. She was an impenetrable wall of smooth granite, cold and unforgiving as the icy winds blowing off of Andrealphus’ frozen palace.

Not that Stolas could blame her. He still burned with embarrassment at the recollection of their first meeting. It had been the morning after his and Blitz’s first reunion as adults, that night in his old home where Blitz had become the first person to ever look at him with something other than derision—with desire—and had rocked his world so thoroughly, he’d ignited a burning, carnal lust within him, hot enough to rival Asmodeus’ flames. Stolas had awoken, down one imp and up one enraged wife, but most pressing had been his insatiable need to feel that way again, to have Blitz take him apart and put him back together until he was little more than a blissed-out puddle of used nerves, only good for-

Anyway.

He’d been half mad with how horny he was, and so when Blitz had kindly rebuffed his offer to return to the palace, he’d taken the proactive approach of going to him. He hadn’t expected a young hellhound to answer the door when he’d come knocking at I.M.P headquarters, dressed only in his silk robe and a collar he’d quickly acquired on the way over. In his haste, he may have been a little short with her—rude, some might even say. Of course, at the time, when he’d been lighting horny candles and looking forward to another romp with this delightful, sexy imp who’d exploded back into his life with all the suddenness and ferocity of a thunder clap, he hadn’t known he’d been talking to the girl who would one day become his future step-daughter. Had he known such a thing, he may not have made it so apparent that he had arrived, unannounced, at her place of work to bone her father.

Talk about a bomb of a first impression.

He’d been trying to make up for it ever since and if the current stifling awkwardness of this tea time was anything to go off of, he was failing miserably.

“Do you have any thoughts on-“ Stolas scrambled to think of something—anything! “…Bread?”

Loona replied by nearly face-planting into her jam and cream scone with a deep groan. She snapped her head back up a moment later, silvery hair flopping over her shoulder and got to her feet.

“You know what?” she said. “This blows. Let’s get outta here.”

She didn’t wait for Stolas to answer, just turned around and began stalking towards the exit.

Alarmed, Stolas got to his feet and hurried after her, ducking under a low-hanging willow branch. “O-Oh! Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here,” Loona replied, tapping away at her phone and grunting in approval. “There’s a bar just around the corner from here. You thirsty?”

Stolas blinked, trying to recalibrate for this new course of action. “Isn’t it a little early to start drinking?”

Loona scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Hey, it’s drinking hour somewhere, right?”

Stolas pursed his beak as he considered this. “I suppose-“

“Great,” Loona droned, already turning for the door and waving over her shoulder for Stolas to follow. “Let’s go.”

Stolas fretted over the table for a moment, swinging his head back and forth between the tea spread and Loona’s retreating back, before sighing. He stuffed a few cucumber sandwiches in his mouth, drained his cup of tea, and raced after her.

Moxxie’s enthusiasm at having the office alone with Millie for the day had quickly been dashed the moment he picked up the phone to answer calls. He watched Stolas do this between jobs, and he always seemed calm and collected when talking to their clients, poised and polite. Even Loona had breezed through the role, and she was about as approachable as a hazardous waste sign, though that had been before I.M.P had rocketed to infamy thanks to Blitz’s televised almost-execution. So, if the two of them could do it, how hard could it be?

Hard. Very hard was the answer.

“Ma’am,” Moxxie sighed, pinching his brow with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, “for the last time, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong-“

“What’s wrong is that you dunderheads bunged up my order!” yelled the same sinner Moxxie had been stuck on the phone with for the last half hour.

“Mrs. Crabgrass, I’m looking at your file right now, and it says your hit went through smoothly,” Moxxie replied, tapping away at the computer. “You hired our services to kill your husband, Joe Crabgrass, on March 22^nd of this year, which we did.”

Moxxie would know. He’d shot the bullet through the man’s skull himself, after all, and blood was seriously a bitch to scrub out from between his hooves.

“Yes, you killed him,” the sinner snapped, her screeching voice making Moxxie wonder if she’d been reincarnated as a banshee after falling into their realm. “But now he’s down here too and he won’t leave me alone! Keeps chasing me around places with a pitchfork, saying he’s gonna get revenge for making him miss the Coldplay concert!”

“Ma’am,” Moxxie bit out again, trying to keep his cool, “where your shitty husband lands isn’t our decision-“

“Getting away from that fucker was the only good thing that came from dying!” Mrs. Crabgrass interrupted. “And now I’m stuck with him again forever. I want my money back!”

Moxxie’s grip tightened on the phone, his patience running out faster than a bottle of wine shared between him and Millie as they watched the newest episode of Yeah, I fucked your sister! He opened his mouth to give a thoughtful and dignified response when Millie’s voice piped up behind him.

“Hey, Moxx! Guess who I am?”

Moxxie turned in his chair to blink at Millie, stood in the doorway of Blitz’s office, hands braced on her hips and gap-toothed grin wide across her face. She wore Blitz’s coat which usually fell to his knees, but on Millie’s shorter frame, nearly brushed the floor. His boots, made for hooves far longer and thicker than her own, kept sliding along her legs as she stumbled into the lobby. Moxxie gawked as Millie’s arms pinwheeled, nearly sending her careening into the carpet, but she managed to right herself and coughed into her fist.

“Anyone got a sexy bird secretary needin’ a poundin’?” she said in a shocking impersonation of Blitz’s typical twang, punching a fist into her open palm.

Moxxie stared at her in silence as she grinned proudly back at him, then shook his head, breaking out of the truly bizarre—and sexually confusing—sight of his wife dressed as his boss.

Artwork by Emei

“Millie!” he hissed, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “I’m on the phone with a client.”

Her grin faltered for a moment, her hands slipping from her hips. “Oh! Sor- I mean, good. You keep workin’ that tight lil’ ass a’ yours, Moxxie! Whatta I pay you for, anyway?”

Millie’s bravado was dampened only by the big clumsy steps she had to take in Blitz’s boots to reach the water cooler. Moxxie watched the swell of her ass beneath the blood-stained coat as she bent over and filled up a plastic cup, the momentary lift in his mood abruptly cut off by the voice screeching in his ear once more.

“Hel-lo? Are you even listening to me? I swear, if this is some call centre in India-“

The only thing that kept Moxxie from hanging up was the knowledge that Loona would snort and give him a look if she found out he’d rage quit his very first call. So, instead he gritted his teeth and told himself he wasn’t going to be like her, he was going to keep his fucking cool and be a professional.

“Ma’am,” he spat, his claws digging into the desk, “we here at I.M.P appreciate your concerns-“

“Even if they’re fuckin’ stupid!” Millie hollered from across the room.

Moxxie sputtered, the phone fumbling in his grip as Millie shot him another grin and two thumbs-up.

Fucking Satan, Moxxie thought as he brought the phone back up to his ear, Mrs. Crabgrass shrieking as though she were being run through by an Exorcist’s spear. He could only be so lucky.

He hoped whatever Blitz was getting up to that day, it was worth the extra layer of Hell he was putting Moxxie through.

“Why are we running?” Octavia screamed as she and Blitz pelted away from the gallery building and onto the busy street.

Blitz frog leaped over a squawking imp and nearly barrelled into a wide-eyed sinner crossing the street, but grabbed Octavia’s hand and swerved around them at the last second. Octavia didn’t try to pull away from him, instead squeezing his hand in return as she pumped her skinny legs, trying to keep up with him.

“Just use your crystal!” she yelled over the sound of the roaring wind.

“Can’t!” Blitz shouted back, gritting his teeth and shoving a broad hellhound out of the way as he ran down the sidewalk. The hound grunted at his back but Blitz just kept running, ignoring the pounding of his own heart. “They made me check it in at the fuckin’ coat room!”

Some bullshit about Asmodean crystals being used to steal valuable art in the past or whatever. Blitz had wanted to kick up more of a fuss at the time, but he’d been trying to look good to Octavia, and a public tantrum wasn’t going to earn him any brownie points in that department. So, he’d rolled his eyes and handed the crystal over, along with a promise that if anything happened to his Satan-given property, a few missing paintings would be the least of their troubles.

And just look where following the rules and being a law-abiding citizen got him: up shit creek with no paddle.

“Don’t worry,” Blitz said over his shoulder to Octavia, giving her a grin that hopefully looked more confident than he felt. “I’ve got a plan.”

They burst into the parking lot behind the building, the van identifying itself with a light whoop whoop as Blitz pressed down on his keys. Octavia didn’t say anything as she ran for the passenger door and Blitz threw himself into the driver’s seat. Clicking their seatbelts into place, he gunned the ignition, peeling out of their spot and slamming his boot down on the accelerator. Octavia screamed once she realised they weren’t slowing down at the boom gate and threw her arms over her face as Blitz drown the van straight through barrier. The wooden plank snapped clean off, bumping against the windscreen and adding another small crack to the collection. He flicked on the wipers to discard the excess woodchips and Octavia lowered her hands with a long exhale.

“What the fuck?” she wheezed, hand pressed to her chest.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Blitz grunted as he swerved through lanes of traffic, a blare of horns following him in his wake, “but there’s no time for parking meters right now.”

“Well, what do we do now?” she demanded, gripping her seatbelt hard enough for the pale skin beneath her feathers to poke through.

“Now,” Blitz said, performing a sharp turn around the curb that had both left tires of the van lifting off the road and he and Octavia’s asses leaving their seats before slamming back down, “we perform a few evasive manoeuvres until we lose Chuckles and Fuckface back there, circle back to the gallery, grab my crystal and vamoose outta here.”

It was the perfect plan, Blitz thought, some of his panic eking away as he spoke. Fool proof. Nothing to-

A bullet scraped against the side of the van, the screech of metal making him instinctively reach out for Octavia. He blindly grabbed her shoulder and yanked her down as another bullet passed in front of his face, shattering the passenger window, where Octavia’s head had been a second before. She screamed, wrapping her arms over her beanie as Blitz released her to glare out his open window at the sleek black car speeding along beside them, Frank leaning out the back window with two pistols in his hands.

“Motherfucker!” Blitz cursed, grip tightening on the steering wheel. Out the window he yelled, “You’re paying for my repairs, asshole!” He softened his voice as he glanced over at Octavia, who was still hunched over and quivering in her seat. “Don’t you worry, little bird, we’re gonna be just fine. Now, hold onto your ass.”

As he faced the road once more and floored it, the engine roaring, Octavia whimpered.

“Why couldn’t we just stay home?” she lamented.

Stolas had never been to a bar before.

The closest he’d ever come was Verosika’s Fuck Blitzo party on Earth, though that dark house stuffed with enough costume-clad demons to raise his eyebrows at Blitz’s sexual proclivities had been far cosier than the seedy establishment he currently found himself in with Loona. He was stuffed into a booth in the back corner, his legs barely fitting under the table, and feeling very out of place in his smart tea time outfit. He took another self-conscious sip of the drink Loona had ordered for him and glanced around the room, taking in the demons dressed in leather jackets, grubby jeans, and dresses that barely covered their rears.

He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat, flicking his gaze across at Loona, who was knocking back her own drink and nodding along to the band playing up on the stage. Some loud, raucous rock song Stolas had never heard before.

“Um-“ he started, trying to be heard over the heavy crash of symbols. “Do you-? Do you come here often?”

He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. ‘Come here often?’ Step it up, you idiot!

Loona just shrugged as she set her glass down on the chipped tabletop. “Eh. Sometimes. Mostly when I need to get out of the house.”

And away from you because I HATE YOU so much, Stolas’ mind supplied.

He took another hurried sip of his drink.

Up on the stage, the band finished playing the last chord of the song, the guitarist standing in a pose with his pick raised high in the air for a moment before stepping up to the mic amongst a smattering of applause. He shook some shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes and laughed into the mic, the breathy sound amplified over the speakers.

“Thank you, thank you. That song’s from our latest album: Everyone secretly hates you-“

Stolas nearly choked on his drink.

“-available from a merch stand near you for just $9.99. Now, we’re moving onto everyone’s favourite time of the day—open mic hour! If you’ve got some pipes, feel free to come on up here and show ‘em off!”

Stolas knocked his fist against his own chest, trying to drag in a breath.

Loona stared across at him with a furrowed brow, looking rather uncomfortable as she said, “Um, are you okay?”

Fuck! He was blowing this! It was no wonder Loona treated every second in his presence as though he were trying to torture information out of her. How must she see him? As little more than the wretch her gracious father had picked up off the streets? She must have so preferred it when it was just her and Blitz. Yes, she and Octavia seemed to get along alright, but that was because they seemed to be cut from the same moody cloth. It was Stolas who was the outsider. Stolas, who was the puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Stolas, who was the one that didn’t belong.

“I’m fine!” he squeaked, shooting to his feet and nearly bashing his head against the low ceiling. Stumbling out of their booth—stars, what had been in that drink?—he let out a forced, tinkling laugh that only had Loona staring at him with more alarm. “Just dandy! You like music, don’t you? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you do. Everyone likes music!” Whirling around on the spot so fast his cape nearly smacked him in the face, he strutted over to the stage and raised a polite hand to the guitarist. “Excuse me, my good Sir. I’d love nothing more than to partake in some karaoke. Did you have any Celine Dem’on on hand?”

Somewhere behind him, he heard Loona groan.

“Motherfucker! I will fucking kill you!” Blitz screamed as he shot his handgun through the open driver’s window.

A screech of tires and another bullet ricocheting off the bonnet of the van was his reply.

The streets were inconveniently crowded as he swerved through traffic, trying to drive, shoot the sharks still tailing them, and avoid running over stupid-ass pedestrians along the way. He was succeeding with at least half of those things. The exhaust fumes spewing through the air and clogging up his lungs with every inhale, the rapid beating of his heart, pumping adrenaline through his body—it was all standard in Blitz’s line of work. Something he was used to and even thrived on. The thrill of the chase as his mom used to say.

Had his high-speed shoot out with the sharks been just a typical chase, he might have even been enjoying himself. As it was, he was cutting through traffic with one very stressed owl in his passenger seat.

Octavia gripped her seat hard enough to peel back more of the aged, chipped leather beneath her fingernails. Her beak was clenched, her pupils blown wide as she stared straight ahead through the windscreen. Every time Blitz swerved and hit the curb (or possibly a stupid-ass pedestrian) she let out a shrill squawk and pulled her beanie down over her eyes like a kid hiding from monsters by ducking under the covers.

“Shit!” she shouted as a bullet hit the side mirror on Blitz’s side, shattering the glass and leaving the casing to dangle from the hinge, knocking into the car door in a series of loud thunks. “This isn’t working. We need to do something about them now before we both get turned into Swiss cheese!”

Blitz’s mind raced, but he was having a little trouble thinking up a plan with all the multi-tasking, like trying to juggle one too many balls. So, he pulled out his favourite boss technique and decided to delegate.

“You’re right, sweetie,” Blitz growled as Louie pulled up beside him in the other lane, a long shotgun pointed their way through the window. “You take the wheel real quick while I take care of these suckers.”

“What?” Octavia exclaimed but Blitz was already pushing at the clasp of her seatbelt with his tail and taking his hands off the wheel to point his gun. The van swerved, nearly taking out a phone booth but Octavia screeched again and grabbed at the wheel. She clambered across the centre consol and into the driver’s seat while Blitz took aim, and fired a few more shots, most glancing off the surface of the sharkmobile. “I- I don’t know how to drive! I’ve never even had a lesson!”

Blitz clicked his tongue, fishing more bullets out of his pocket. That was a conversation he’d have to have with Stolas later. No daughter of his would trapeze around the city, taking the bus with all those sickos out there. He’d learned to drive in a clown car when he was nine years old from a retired acrobat with one foot. If he could learn under those conditions, Octavia could get a crash course by hopefully not crashing his van.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy,” Blitz assured her over the roar of the wind battering his head. “You just turn the wheel, step on the pedal, and try not to kill someone—easy!”

He attempted to feed the ammo into the empty barrel, but with Octavia’s jerky steering it was a nigh on impossible task. Louie was yelling something at Blitz across the road that he couldn’t make out, so he just gave him a double bird in response.

“O-Okay,” Octavia stammered.

Just as Blitz’s finger pulled down on the trigger, the van braked suddenly, tyres squealing and sending a stench of burnt rubber up to his nostrils. Blitz was thrown forward with a yell, his shoulder slamming into the window frame and his shot going wide as Louie, still travelling at a hundred miles an hour, zoomed past. The tray bullet blasted through the skull of some schmuck unloading a huge sheet of glass out the back of a moving truck. His brains painted the front of a shop in a brilliant splatter of black while his body crumpled to the floor, dropping the glass, which landed on a couple of busty bitches strutting down the street. They were flattened like a pair of eggs, their guts spilling across the road and causing several cars to swerve in wild circles. One crashed into the blood-spattered shop, another ran down an old lady crossing the street, while a secret third crashed into a fire hydrant, which exploded into a gushing geyser of shit water.

Blitz watched all of this with his jaw on the floor and his shoulder throbbing.

Beside him, Octavia piped up. “Um. Was that okay?”

Blitz spun around to stare at her stricken expression, those huge scarlet eyes blown wide as she took in the carnage unfolding behind Blitz, screams of agony and terror all around them. Blitz wanted to demand why the fuck she’d stepped on the brake and not the accelerator, why she had a stupid, rich dilf for a father who’d never bothered to teach her the basic skills every other demon in Hell seemed to have, and what anything about their current situation could be considered okay?

But he noticed the tremble in her beak and so tried to force his mouth into some semblance of a grin, and replied, “That was…great, Vivi. But why don’t we switch places, huh? I get behind the wheel and you take the gu-AAAH!”

Pain ripped through Blitz’s arm as he tried to pass Octavia his gun, his shoulder throbbing in a way perfectly set shoulders had no right doing. That was when he glanced down and saw that his shoulder was not perfectly set. His arm was twisted in the socket like he’d been swung round by an enthusiastic windmill. It hurt just to look at it, but trying to move it hurt even worse.

“Shit,” Octavia gasped, her hands fluttering around Blitz’s torso. “That looks really bad.”

“Oh, this?” Blitz grunted as he shrugged his good arm out of the sleeve and tied his coat about himself in a makeshift sling. “This is nothing. You shoulda seen the time I—erk!—knocked my elbow outta place by sluggin’ this guy who cut in front of me at the bar.”

“You can’t drive like that,” Octavia observed and Blitz had to agree. As good as he’d gotten at slaying it on Azazel Kart, he didn’t want to push his luck (and the van’s insurance). “Come on,” Octavia said, unclipping her seatbelt and pushing the passenger door open. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

She raced around the van to Blitz’s door, stumbling out of the path of various demons running and shrieking as the wreckage on the street spread, engines of crashed cars bursting into flames and spewing noxious smoke into the air. The driver’s door opened and Octavia fumbled with Blitz’s seatbelt as he tried to weakly wave her off.

“It’s fine!” he insisted, even as another stab of pain had him feeling light-headed. He swallowed down a mouthful of bile that threatened to creep up his throat, focusing on Octavia’s determined face. “I can still get us outta here. We just need to-“

He was cut off as a bullet whizzed past his cheek, burying itself in the headrest an inch from his face. Stuffing spilled out of the hole, a car barrelling towards them at a million miles an hour, Louie leaning out of the window and waving his gun about as he leered at Blitz and Octavia.

“You’re a dead man, Blitzo!” he yelled, his voice melding with the screeching of tyres.

Blitz stared at him for half a second before ripping his seatbelt off and practically collapsing into Octavia’s arms.

“Y’know what? You’re right. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Wincing in pain, Blitz wrapped his good arm around Octavia’s shoulders when she bent down and the two of them hobbled away. Blitz groaned as he thought about how all the others must have been having a blast while he was stumbling away from a pack of sharks with a dislocated shoulder.

This should’ve been Moxxie, Satan damn it! Blitz thought as he followed Octavia into a side street and out of view.

“I don’t care if you’ve had a hard life,” Moxxie spat into the receiver, one had in his hair, the other holding the phone in a death grip. “This is a business, not a pity party!”

“How dare you say that!” Mrs. Crabgrass spat back at him. “You got any idea what I went through in my childhood? My pa used to spank me!”

Moxxie’s eye twitched, a chunk of his hair coming out as he ripped his hand back. His last nerve had been snapped a long time ago. Somewhere between Mrs. Crabgrass denying she’d ever signed the client contract Moxxie was looking at with his own eyes and her calling him an ‘uppity little bitch’. But this was grinding the last fleck of his patience and composure under her (doubtless) tacky heels.

“Childhood?” he yelled, slapping the desk. “You wanna play that card, lady? I was eating guys like your pa for breakfast when I was five fucking years old! So, don’t you come at me with a shitty childhood story, you absolute-!”

“Moxx?”

The whip of Moxxie’s anger cracked as he rounded on the voice and snapped, “What?”

His snarl instantly dropped as he beheld the sight that greeted him. Millie, posed coyly in the doorway to Blitz’s office, still wearing his coat and seemingly nothing else if the red expanse of her leg bending out of the slit in the fabric was anything to go by. Moxxie’s eyes bulged (along with his bulge) as he raked his hungry gaze from the tips of Millie’s hooves, up to her fluttering eyelashes.

She bit her lip and curled a finger towards him in a come-hither gesture. “You’ve been workin’ so hard all day. Why don’t you come…take a break? You can sit in Blitz’s chair and I can sit…” Her eyes drifted down to his lap and she swiped her tongue across her lower lip, “-somewhere else?”

A shiver ran up Moxxie’s spine, his blood singing for Millie. Her tail swished back and forth behind her, a telltale sign that his wife was very much in the mood.

And who was Moxxie to deny her?

Suddenly, a voice piped up in his ear again, breaking the trance the sight of Blitz’s coat slipping down Millie’s bare shoulder had put him in. “You’re gonna screw on your boss’s desk? Oh my God. Talk about tacky!”

Moxxie glared at the phone and simply said, “Go fuck your dead husband, lady,” before slamming it down, hanging up on her. He instantly swung round in his chair and jumped to his feet, grinning at Millie’s answering giggle. Taking her hand, he pulled her into Blitz’s office, saying, “You always have the best ideas, honey.”

Flipping her spiky hair over her shoulder, Millie sighed. “I know.”

Moxxie pulled her in close, catching her around the waist and hoisting her onto the lip of Blitz’s desk. As they tugged each other into a searing kiss, several of the little knickknacks Blitz had set up everywhere toppled over, rolling onto the carpet.

Moxxie was careful to avoid the framed photo of him and Stolas.

It was fair to say Stolas was very drunk.

Getting through several glasses of dubious liquor and a set of power ballads would do that to a demon. He couldn’t help himself though. It was so much easier to ignore his emotional turmoil and inability to converse like a normal demon when he was belting out a love medley and swinging around the pole set up in the centre of the stage. He thought it was going rather well for the most part too. There were quite a few other patrons in the bar who seemed to be enjoying his performance, cheering and clapping as he ended one song and launched into another.

Stolas did so love to sing. It was rare he ever got to do it for an audience and was relishing the existence of listeners. Having Blitz hum along to his murmured singing as they shared a bath together was one thing but having strangers whoop and holler for him as he hit a high note was an entirely different kind of rush.

How he wished Loona’s voice was among those cheering him on. Instead, she was still hunkered down in their booth, nursing her own drink and pointedly not looking at Stolas.

Am I embarrassing her? Stolas thought belatedly, his alcohol-soaked brain lagging to catch up with him as he performed a power slide across the stage. Should I stop?

As the last note of the song played out, he rose to his feet amongst more cheering, though his gaze remained fixed on the lone hellhound stooped over in the back of the bar.

“Thank you, thank you,” he murmured distractedly into the microphone. “You’re too kind.”

He took a wobbling step towards the edge of the stage and nearly tripped when a loose nail caught on the hem of his cape. He tugged it free, a rip sounding from the expensive fabric but he didn’t care. In that moment, he desperately wanted to spirit away to Loona’s side and reassure her that they could do whatever it was she wanted. If she wished to go, they would go. If she wished to stay, they would stay. Whatever it took for her to stop glaring down at her drink and look at him-

Stolas took another step and found that where solid decking ought to have been, there was instead a distinct lack of anything. He had just enough time to register that he’d walked clean off the stage before he was falling, his tall frame tipping over like a tree cut down at the stump. He yelped, throwing his arms out in some attempt to break his fall but all it served to do was make his hands collide with the pitcher of cold beer someone had set down on the table closest to the stage. He fell on his stomach, landing on the tabletop with a clatter of glasses and several outraged yells as the demons all clustered around it sprang back. The drinks all tipped over, most of them landing on Stolas himself but the pitcher spilled onto the dress of a succubus, who squealed and batted at the dark stain with her hands as though that could somehow reverse the last few seconds.

“O-Oh my heavens,” Stolas stammered, ignoring the throbbing in both his elbows as he slid his talons to the floor on shaky legs. “I am so sorry. Here, let me-“

He picked up the hem of his cape and stepped forward to dab at the stain in some attempt to feel useful. If only he still had his magic. He’d have been able to spell that mess away in an instant. Such spells had always been so handy, particularly in his trysts with Blitz. Just a flick of his wrist and all the mess between them would vanish in an instant. But before he could wipe at the woman’s dripping bosom, a muscular incubus was wedging his way between them, arms crossed over his chiselled chest and glaring up at Stolas with gritted teeth.

“Just whattaya think you’re doing, pal?” he spat. “Think he can dunk on my girl?”

“I assure you, I never meant to dunk on anyone,” Stolas jabbered, trying to explain.

His words fell on deaf ears, however, as the incubus seized him by the shirtfront and hauled him forward until they were chest-to-chest.

Oh dear, Stolas thought, his face heating up. This was rather like one of the fantasies he’d penned in his journal.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson, birdy,” the man grunted, raising his fist.

Stolas threw his hands up in surrender and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the blow to fall. But before it could, a voice was breaking through the ringing in his ears.

“Hey! Come on, man, it was an accident.”

Stolas opened his eyes a crack to see Loona grabbing the incubus’ fist and keeping him at bay. Her red eyes flicked back and forth between the aggravated stranger and Stolas, her tail bristling behind her.

Artwork by Emei

“You stay outta this, little lady,” the incubus said gruffly, trying to pull his arm free but Loona held firm.

“Not if you’re gonna pound my dad’s boyfriend to paste,” she fired back.

Stolas remained in place, hands still raised as the incubus narrowed his eyes at Loona.

“My problem’s not with you, bitch,” he sneered.

Stolas gasped as Loona’s lips peeled back from her rows of razor-sharp teeth and she growled, “You got a problem with him, then you’ve got a problem with me. Get it?”

There was a pregnant pause in which everyone just looked at each other. The entire bar, along with Stolas, seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the pin to drop. Finally, the incubus let out a ‘Tch.’

“Got it,” he muttered, before releasing Stolas and promptly swinging his free fist at Loona.

Stolas gasped again, louder this time, and nearly falling backwards without a hand gripping his shirt. He briefly wondered how he was going to explain to Blitz what had happened when Loona came home with a black eye. His darling was rather forgiving at the best of times, but he thought there would be a strong chance of him being made to sleep on the couch as he had once been forced to do in the months after his trial. Not that Stolas would blame him. He’d be livid too if anything happened to Via while she was in Blitz’s care.

Not that anything would. He was sure they were being very responsible.

Of course, he shouldn’t have worried at all, as he watched Loona swat the guy’s fist away and launch her own punch right between the incubus’ eyes. His head snapped back, black blood spurting from his nostrils as his eyes rolled into his head and he teetered over, crashing into another demon behind him. That demon spun around, snarling and grabbed the closest person next to him, delivering a clean punch across the jaw to the unsuspecting patron.

Stolas watched in stunned silence as violence spread through the crowd like wildfire, until everyone was suddenly upon one another. He squawked and ducked as a chair sailed through the air, narrowly missing taking his head off. Shouts, grunts of pain, and the crashing of uninsured furniture rained down around him. He fell to his hands and knees, desperately crawling between legs as he sought an escape from this madness.

“Oh, my stars,” he panted, shuffling between someone’s bowed legs. His hands landed in sticky puddles of spilt beer and Lucifer knew what else but he kept going, convinced that at any moment someone would notice him and kick a boot into his beak. “Good heavens-“

“Hey!” a voice called out in the crowd and Stolas squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, but when a hand curled around his bicep and hoisted him to his feet, it was only Loona, her eyes darting around the chaos, looking for an exit. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Stolas coughed, clutching at her hand and stumbling along as she towed him through the bar.

“Here!” she yelled out and Stolas followed her towards a side door marked crazy bitch dumping ground by the flickering neon sign overhead.

He cooed at it in admiration for a moment before Loona was kicking the door open and they were stumbling out onto the street. Stolas at least had the good graces to kick the door shut behind him. Loona didn’t stop pulling him along until they were down the street and around the corner, the sound of shouting and fighting nothing more than a distant rumble. Only then did she release him and double over, hand on knees, to catch her breath.

Stolas, similarly, leaned against a street lamp as he tried to gather his wits, though his head was still spinning and he was fairly certain he might throw up in the next minute.

It had grown dark while they’d been inside, the red sun of Hell’s sky dipping below the skyline of Imp City. The streets were still busy, as they always were in Pride, but the bustling figures parted around their corner, giving the both of them a wide berth. Stolas supposed they must have looked quite a sight; a Goetia and a hellhound halfway to passed out on the sidewalk.

But he didn’t care about that. All he cared about in that moment was-

“Loona,” Stolas began, straightening up and trying to compose himself. “Thank you for- For getting me out of there. I’m afraid I made a giant mess of it all.”

Loona stopped dry heaving to stand and flash him a small smile. “Hah, don’t mention it. Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble when Blitz isn’t around.”

Her tone was jovial but Stolas wilted at the words, those pesky insecurities that hadn’t just been plaguing him all day, but ever since he’d imposed himself into Blitz and Loona’s home flaring up.

“Yes,” he murmured, his gaze lowering to the ground. “It seems all I do is cause you trouble. I’m sorry for that. It’s never been my intention.”

Loona’s smile faltered, her ears turning back and she sighed. “I didn’t mean-“

“No, it’s quite alright,” Stolas interrupted, holding up a hand. He swallowed down his own self-pity, the nerves going down like a mouthful of razor blades. “I just wanted today to be different.”

The words drifted from his lips, floating away on the wind. For a minute they both stood there, adrift and uncertain, the breeze blowing at Stolas’ torn cape and Loona’s hair and tail. In that moment Stolas wished he knew what to say to comfort her, to tell her not to worry and everything would be fine with their family eventually, regardless of his own short-comings. But, as always, he didn’t have the words.

“Look, man,” Loona said gruffly, crossing her arms, her silvery hair falling across her face, “it’s fine, okay? All of it’s fine. You don’t have to, you know, try so hard. I get it.”

Stolas blinked, lifting his head up to gaze across at her uncomfortable expression and shifting paws in the darkening twilight. “I’m afraid I don’t follow?”

“I mean-“ Loona groaned, raking a hand through her hair, “that I know the only reason you’re around, like, living with us is for Blitz, okay? And that’s fine. He’s what you signed up for, not me. So, you just- You don’t have to keep doing all this shit, okay? You don’t have to pretend to like me or whatever. I get it.”

She let out a puff of air, her arms unfolding to hang by her sides. Her fingers itched as though she longed to reach into her pocket for her phone.

Stolas just stared at her, her bland tone, devoid of any true resentment or bitterness—like she really was just fine with the situation she had described, a man barging into her life, only with eyes for her father and nothing else—was the worst thing of all. He shook his head silently for a moment before a loud squawk of a laugh burst out of him.

Loona startled, jumping at the sudden noise but Stolas couldn’t help himself. He clutched at his head with one hand and shook it with disbelief.

“My goodness,” he said. “You really are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Loona’s bewilderment morphed into puzzlement as she frowned at him. “What do you-?”

“I’m not pretending to like you!” Stolas burst out, unable to contain himself a moment longer. “I do like you! You’re such a fascinating girl—so like my Via in so many ways. I wouldn’t be doing all of this, going to such lengths to make you see me as anything more than that scoundrel I was when we first met, if I didn’t like you.”

His voice bounced off the cracked asphalt, Loona’s eyes widening beneath the curtain of her hair. He rubbed at his brow, some of the fight evaporating from his shoulders as he came back down to Hell. All the while, Loona stood a few feet away, teetering on the edge of movement and still frowning at him.

“Dude, come on,” she eventually said. “No one likes me. The first person who could even stand to look at me without screaming was Blitz.”

“You?” Stolas fired back, his head snapping from the blanket of his hands. “No one’s ever liked me! The only friend I ever had was paid to spend the day with me by my arsehole father!”

“At least you had a friend,” Loona scoffed. “Every other kid on the playground was either scared of me, hated me, or wanted me dead. Mostly all at once.”

Stolas folded his arms across his chest. “My whole life, I’ve been told how annoying and irritating I am.”

Loona matched his stance, cocking an eyebrow. “The other hounds in the pound used to make a game out of trying to rile me up so much I’d bite the lunch lady.”

“Everyone hates me.”

“Everyone hates me.”

They both stared at each other, panting hard, before that same bubbling laughter was rising up in Stolas’ chest until he could contain it no more. He and Loona both burst out laughing, giving them an even wider berth from the other pedestrians than before. She clutched at his arm and he, her shoulder as the giggles wracked through them. By the time Stolas was able to draw in a breath without hiccupping, there were tears in his eyes and he wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the deep sorrow he felt on behalf of this poor girl who had been so grievously mistreated.

Loona released him first, stepping back to swipe a thumb over her nose and let out a quiet tch, smiling softly at the ground. “Guess we’re both a lil’ fucked up, huh?”

“There’s nothing fucked up about you,” Stolas rushed to say, and she blinked up at him, scarlet eyes glowing in the encroaching dark. He squeezed her shoulder tighter, swallowing down the own lump in his throat. “I mean it, Loona. I know I wasn’t really thinking about others when I first met Blitz again, you included, and…I’m sorry for that. But I mean it when I say I want us to be closer. Blitz, Via, you…You’re all special to me. I hope I can have the chance to prove that to you, even if you don’t like me.”

Loona glanced down at his hand on her shoulder, then back up at his face and she cracked a smile, her eyelids dipping to half-mast. “I like you just fine. You care about Blitz a lot and I know he cares about you too. And, you’re kinda fun, I guess.”

Stolas perked up, his chest swelling with elation. He didn’t think he’d ever received a higher degree of praise than being told he was kinda fun.

“Really?” he asked breathlessly and Loona snorted, a hand rising to her snout.

“Yeah, really. Now, come on. Let’s get outta here. I’m fucking starved.” She turned, Stolas’ hand slipping from her shoulder, the soft fur of her tail brushing his legs, and set off down the street.

Stolas was glad, as it meant she didn’t see the tears welling anew in his eyes. Dashing at them with his sleeve, he cleared his throat and called out after her, “Yes, good idea.”

He hurried to catch up with her, his talons clicking across the pavement until he fell into step by her side. It was a recent walk back to their apartment, but he didn’t mind spending all that time with Loona.

Stolas smiled to himself and wondered if things were going as well with Blitz and Via.

“Tits!” Blitz yelled as he and Octavia ran down the street.

His boots thumped against the pavement as he towed Octavia behind him, his shoulder pulsing with agony at every heavy step. His day was stuck in a fucking rotation of bullshit—get chased by guys, run, get chased by guys, run, get chased by guys. Run. Rinse and repeat. The only problem was, with no Asmodean crystal, no van, and a dislocated shoulder, it looked like that rotation was gonna break real fuckin’ fast, most likely with his head rolling from his neck. Even now, he could hear those sharks gaining on them, chasing after them on foot, grunting and yelling threats at their backs.

Blitz was well and truly fucked and he had no idea what to do. He couldn’t see a way out without some kind of divine intervention taking pity on his sweet, red ass, but he couldn’t tell Octavia that.

Fuck! What could he do?

“Down here,” Blitz panted, taking a sharp left and dragging Octavia away from the main road and over to an old junkyard. “We can hide.”

She followed him into the abandoned lot, the place piled high with old, rusted cars teetering around them on all sides. The coppery scent of metal hit the back of Blitz’s throat as he raced by some skittering hellrats and around a mountain of old pipes and greasy engines to clamber around a dilapidated pick-up truck resting on its side. He hunkered down on his haunches, sweat dripping from his brow as he tried to breath through the pain radiating from his shoulder. Once he stopped running he became aware that he was shaking. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Stolas chirped up in the back of his mind, telling him that he was probably going into shock.

“Are you okay?” Octavia asked in a small voice.

Blitz blinked at the sound of her words and glanced down from her concerned face to see that he was still holding her wrist. He released her and wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging his knees to his chest. His tail followed suit and he wheezed out a laugh.

“Oh, yeah, never better,” he lied.

“What do we do now?” she asked, peering around the side of the truck.

“Wait ‘em out,” Blitz replied simply. “They’ll have lost track of us and soon enough we can-“

“We know you’re in here, Blitzo!” Louie’s voice echoed through the twisted piles of steel around them. “Come out now and we might just go easy on ya.”

“No, we won’t!” Frank added and Louie let out a frustrated sigh.

“They wasn’t s’posed to know that, Frank!”

“Oh.”

“Shit,” Blitz cursed.

“Shit,” Octavia agreed.

She slumped to the ground beside him, her legs flopping out on the dirty ground. Blitz stared at them, so long and slim, just like her dad’s. He wondered if she’d one day get as tall as Stolas and tower over him more than she already did. He wondered if she’d bend down to let him hug her, then chastised himself for fantasising about her like she was anything more than what she’d said she was: barely a step-daughter.

Blitz swallowed back the bitterness rising in his throat and sighed. “Octavia, I’m sorry I got you mixed up in all this shit. This day was supposed to be fun but instead it’s been-“

“Shit,” Octavia said again, staring straight ahead.

Blitz blew out a long puff of air and sank back against the truck. “Yeah. Shit. If we survive this, I promise I won’t make you hang out with me again. You can just go on hating me. Not so different to the rest of the world anyway.”

He tried for a jokey smile and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb but his words came out brittle and Octavia didn’t crack a smile. She just frowned down at her lap, a pensive look on her face until Blitz was drumming up a cold sweat and trying to decide if he even wanted to live to see another day. Maybe dying would be less painful than this.

“I don’t…hate you.”

The words were spoken so softly Blitz almost didn’t hear them at first. He snapped his head up, his horns narrowly missing banging into the truck. Octavia’s beak was screwed up into a grimace as Blitz intently watched her draw her legs up.

It took him a moment to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You- You don’t?”

“No.” Octavia sounded physically pained as she spat the word out, her hands fisting in the knees of her leggings. “I never did.”

“But-“ Blitz stammered, “-But then why-?”

He flailed an arm between them helplessly, unable to find the words to ask her: then why was there this weird distance between them? Why did she always ignore him on the best of days and actively avoid him on the worst?

What could he do to make her look at him?

“I know everything with my mum and dad was messed up,” Octavia began in a stilted voice, still staring directly at her boots and not Blitz, “and that dad was just doing his best with what he had. I- I know he didn’t mean to leave me but it’s just-“ She turned to face Blitz then, her fringe of headfeathers falling aside to reveal tears in her eyes. In a trembling voice, she choked out, “It’s just hard having to accept that he’ll always love you more than he loves me.”

There had been few times in his life where Blitz had been truly lost for words but as he sat there, staring at this young girl crying that she’d always be second best to him, he was speechless. His heart ached at the jagged line of her mouth, her beak wobbling as tears continued to build in her eyes until they were slipping down her cheeks and she turned away, furiously dashing them with her sleeve. All he saw as he stared at her was the memory of a young imp, curled up in bed and trying not to wake anyone with his sobbing, wondering why he couldn’t seem to earn his own father’s affection.

“Hey,” he said, sharper than he intended. Octavia peered over her arm at him and Blitz reached out with his good arm to grab her shoulder. “That is not true.”

Octavia rolled her eyes with a snort. “Yeah, sure. Come on, we’re past all the bullshit now. I’m not saying it ‘cause I want you to, like, apologise for it. It’s just the way it is.”

She said it so plainly, her eyes hooded and resigned as she stared out at the mountains of junk and the footsteps of their assailants kept tromping around their hiding place.

Blitz’s spines bristled and he shook his head firmly. “That’s a load of bullshit. Octavia, your dad loves you.”

“But he loves you more,” she snapped back, her hands curling into the wool of her cardigan.

Blitz sighed, pinching the skin of his brow. How could he make her understand? She needed to understand.

“Look, little bird, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Blitz said, releasing Octavia’s shoulder to grab her hand instead. He gently tugged until she gave in and turned on her butt to face him. She still aimed her teary eyes at the floor but she wasn’t pulling away from him, which was something. Blitz swallowed, his throat clicking before he opened his mouth again. “If there’s one thing I know about your dad, it’s that he’s loved being your dad ever since your psycho bitch of a mom hatched you into this world.”

Octavia snorted. “Yeah, right. You have to say that. Just trying to cover his arse.”

“I’m serious!” Blitz insisted. “He’d never shut up about you. Between our, uh, deep conversations-“

Balls deep, his mind helpfully added and he gave himself a quick mental high five.

“-he’d tell me about the new Mayhem at Demon’s Gate album you’d got and how you were blasting it through the walls. He’d tell me how he could hear you playing the guitar in your room and wanted to tell you how good of a job you were doing, but knew you got shy about that stuff so he didn’t say anything. But he was proud of you.”

Octavia’s frown slowly melted and she lifted her eyes up to Blitz’s. “Wait, you know about that?”

“Yes,” Blitz laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “When he was the most relaxed was when he’d talk about you. Like, a lot. I couldn’t get him to shut up about your star studies, or your weird taxidermy decorations, or what dumb jokes would make you laugh. Fuckin’ endless.”

He chuckled to himself, just remembering Stolas’ laid out in his bed, sated and boneless, smoking a cigarette while he waxed poetic about Octavia’s laugh at the kitchen table. After having got to know her more over the past few months, Blitz could see why. Her eyes sparkled just the same as her dad’s when she smiled.

“He…He really told you all that stuff about me?” Octavia asked, her voice small.

Blitz nodded, trying to convey it’s okay through his smile alone. He squeezed her hand and replied, “Yeah, and you know why?”

Octavia sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes, though there was a slight upward twitch to her beak. “Because he loves me?”

“Bingo,” Blitz answered, releasing Octavia’s hand to fire a finger gun at her.

“But-“

“Not buts. Listen, Vivi, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, since adopting Loona, meeting your dad again and then…you, it’s that there’s no cap on love. There’s always more to give.”

It had taken Blitz some time to learn that particular lesson. Cash had always made him feel that his cup of affection only contained so much and after pouring his share into other cups—the circus, his mom, Fizz—there was never any left for him. That doubt had followed him like a bad smell ever since he was a teenager, out on his own in the cold, cruel world and sabotaging every good thing that looked his way.

Verosika? She had billions of adoring fans across multiple realms. Why would she waste herself on a lowlife like him? Better to cut the chord before things got too tangled. Moxxie and Millie? They were just his employees; he was only worth to them what roof he could put over their heads and how much cash he could line their pockets with. Besides, they had each other now and everyone knew three was a crowd. Best to wedge himself so firmly into their lives that plucking him out would cause a haemorrhage. Stolas? Well…he was moonlight incarnate, soft and beautiful with a hardness at his core. Completely above Blitz in every way. To think Stolas could ever feel anything real for him was a pipe dream.

Or it had been. But after blowing everything to shit and nearly dying, it had shed some much-needed clarity on his life. It was so simple to realise it didn’t have to be this way. He didn’t have to royally suck and fuck up everything he touched if only he believed what people were telling him with their words and actions. It was okay to accept affection. It was okay to realise that he mattered to people. And it was okay to keep broadening that circle of people, letting more in.

Blitz just needed Octavia to know that too ‘cause he really wanted her in his circle. He wanted her to let him in.

She seemed to be struggling for words as she stared at him, blinking…birdishly.

“I…feel like such an arsehole right now,” she confessed, laughing wryly and scratching at the headfeathers beneath her beanie.

“Hey, c’mon now,” Blitz cooed, shuffling in close until they were shoulder-to-shoulder and he could wrap an arm around her. He pulled her close and Octavia allowed her head to thump against his chest, sitting on the cold, dirty ground as he tried to cajole her. “None of that shit. You’ve got nothing to feel bad about. All this shit’s been a lot on you. It’d be a lot for anyone.”

Octavia bobbed her head in a nod, sniffling and wiping her beak on her sleeve. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “For saying all that stuff. It was really nice of you.”

Blitz could’ve cried right then and there, but he kept his shit together and softly petted her headfeathers instead. “Well, it’s what dad’s d-“

“I can hear you, motherfucker!” came Louie’s yell, followed by a gunshot.

The bullet ricocheted off the edge of the car, skirting just shy of the tip of Blitz’s horn. He and Octavia both yelped, dropping to the ground as they touch cover against the sudden onslaught of bullets. Blitz’s shoulder screamed, then his mouth screamed.

“FUCK! I forgot about those guys,” he winced, grabbing at his sleeve from his spot flopped out on his stomach.

“You forgot?” Octavia said incredulously.

“What? We were having a touching moment!” He sighed, his tail drooping at his back. “Not that it fuckin’ matters, ‘cause we’re about to die. In a trash heap too! Not how I wanted to go out.”

It was Octavia who took a steadying breath and rose to his feet. Her silhouette struck Blitz back in time to last Sinsmas and the fight against Andrealphus at Stolas’ old home. She’d been strong and unwavering then and that same glint of steel was in her eyes now.

“Good thing we’re not going out today.” Octavia shot a determined smile down at Blitz and said, “I’ve got an idea.”

Louie and Frank tromped through the scrapyard, kicking aside empty cans and shooting at every hellrat that scurried by. In the setting sun, the shadows of the trash heaps had stretched longer, encroaching on what little bare ground was left like creeping fingers seeking to close in on their prey.

“C’mon out, Blitzo! You show your face and we might just let your lil’ birdy go,” Louie called out, stomping across old magazines and mouldy planks of wood.

Frank paused in sweeping the barrel of his gun across the crumpled-up cars to frown at his partner. “Really?”

“Course not!” Louie snapped, swiping Frank across the back of the head. “You just worry about findin’ that lil’ piece a’ imp shit before-“

Blitz chose that moment to reveal himself, scrambling atop a tall tower of wrecked cars and junk. “No need to keep the search party goin’, boys. I’m right here!”

His arm was still trussed up in his make-shift sling and he was covered in dirt, blood and oil but he let none of his pain or discomfort show on his face. He stared down at the two sharks cooly, his tail swaying behind him. His fingers hovered over his gun strapped to his hip, but he made no move to reach for it.

Instantly, Frank and Louie’s barrels were pointed his way, their gleaming yellow eyes fixed on him.

“Well, well. Decided to make it nice and easy, huh?” Louie chuckled. “I can appreciate that.”

“Hey, you know me,” Blitz shrugged, his lips twitching up in the corners. “I’m easy as pie. Learned that from your mom.”

Louie’s smile dropped, his lips pulling back from his razor-sharp teeth in a snarl. “Enough with the wise cracks. It’s about damned time I put a long overdue bullet through your head.”

“You can try,” Blitz said, dropping his voice into something low and serious, making all the playfulness vanish from his expression. “But you’d need your guns for that.”

Frank turned a confused look on his boss, as though this were yet another turn of phrase that he didn’t understand. “What’s he-?”

But he never finished his sentence, as Blitz raised his arm, fingers splayed wide and the guns were ripped from Louie and Frank’s grips by an invisible force. The two yelped and scrambled back as the guns floated in the air, surrounded by a purple, shimmery glow. They hovered for a moment before slowly turning around on their owners, the shiny barrels now pointed at the two of them.

“W-What the fuck?” Louie stammered, quaking as the gun inched closer to him, forcing him back another step. “Since when can you do magic?”

“Since I ploughed your mom and found a genie bottle inside her rank-ass pussy,” Blitz snapped back. “Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll scramble back to whatever toxic pond you two dragged your sorry asses out of.”

He accentuated his point by twitching his finger. One of the guns went off, firing a bullet just shy of Louie’s foot. He yelled, hopping on the spot as more shots followed suit, sending up clouds of dust around his feet. The other gun joined the first until both sharks were dancing their way out of the junkyard to avoid getting a toe blown off.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Blitz shouted at their retreating dorsal fins. “You get your fish stank outta here!”

He kept waving his hand about until both guns clicked, their chambers empty, and he dropped his arm.

Octavia poked her head out from behind the trash tower, blinking into the empty lot. “Are they gone?”

“Yep,” Blitz grunted, his confident mask evaporating now that he didn’t have an audience to perform for. He slowly climbed down from his perch, his one arm making his progress slow, but he eventually reached the ground, hopping down from a crushed car to wobble by Octavia’s side. “Good job out there, kiddo. That was some good shooting.”

“Thanks,” Octavia laughed, shaking the last shimmer of purple light from her fingers. “It’s actually not so hard when using magic. Hopefully those guys won’t bother you again.”

Blitz chuckled as he recalled their fear-stricken faces. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem anymore. Now, let’s get back home before your dad and Loonie freak out.”

He took one step and the reverberation twinged his shoulder, sending a fresh bolt of pain racing through his nerves. He cried out, a string of curses falling from his lips as Octavia reached out to support him.

“Um, maybe we should stop by a hospital first?” she suggested.

Blitz swallowed down his lunch, threatening to burst from his throat and nodded weakly. “Y’know, a hospital sounds great, actually.”

Stolas thought he had grown rather adept at setting the table. He still wasn’t allowed anywhere near the stove after the Waffles Incident but there was a gentle calmness about laying down each plate before a chair and placing the cutlery just so that he enjoyed. He hummed happily to himself as he folded the napkins and Loona fried steaks in the kitchen, the smell of sizzling meat filling the apartment. The air between them was pleasant as they went about their respective tasks, flowing around each other as Stolas passed her a spatula and Loona handed him the salt and pepper shakers. Stolas couldn’t help the giddy swell of air filling his chest as he glanced over and caught Loona’s easy smile, so different from the heavy frown she’d been wearing just that morning.

It was as he was placing down the pitcher of water that Blitz and Via stepped through the door.

Stolas’ head twitched up at the sound of the door opening and swinging shut and he leaned back to peer into the hallway and see the other half of his family shucking their coats. A smile split his face and he ushered over to meet them.

“There you two are,” Stolas chirped, taking Via’s cardigan and helping Blitz slip out of his coat. “I was beginning to worry.”

Blitz gave a slight wince as he pulled his arms free of his sleeves but laughed shortly at Stolas’ words. “Worry? Pfft. What’ve you got to worry about us for?”

Stolas blinked at Blitz’s strained smile, pausing before he hung his and Via’s coats on their hooks by the door. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe you’d gotten lost on your way home? You of all people should know what a dangerous city this place can be, Blitz.”

He dropped a kiss to Blitz’s head as Via passed them, yawning and stretching her arms above her head.

“I just wanted to check out the gift shop before we left,” she explained, taking a seat at the dining table. She dug around in her bag before pulling out a keychain, still with the price tag on. “See?”

Stolas squinted at the charm, a little teddy bear posed in what could only be a distinctly seductive manner. He scrunched his face up but Via beamed down at the keychain as she cradled it in her palm so he simply smiled and paced over to the table, taking a seat at her side.

“It’s…lovely,” he settled on.

Via laughed as she placed it back in her handbag and hung the strap around the back of her chair. “Blitz got it for me.”

Again, Stolas perked up. He couldn’t remember a time Octavia had ever addressed Blitz by his name, usually just referring to him as him. He looked past Via to Blitz, who was making his way into the living room, and raised his eyebrows. He hoped that Blitz could read every question in his eyes.

How did it go? Did you have any break throughs? What’s with the teddy keychain?

Blitz answered by grinning and shooting him a thumbs-up. That one gesture was enough to lift Stolas’ spirits even further and have him nearly bursting with happiness.

Artwork by Malok

“Wonderful,” Stolas whispered, turning his gaze to Via once more. “It sounds like you two had fun.”

“It was…” Via pursed her beak in thought before eventually answering, “very thrilling.”

Stolas’ eyebrows went up in surprise. “My goodness. It must have been quite the exhibit.”

“Sure was,” Blitz said, trailing an absent hand over Stolas’ shoulders before joining Loona in the kitchen, grabbing plates of steak and steamed vegetables, and helping her carry it all over to the table. “And what about you two, huh? You guys have a good time?”

Loona snorted as she placed a plate down in front of Stolas before taking her own seat across from him. “Oh yeah. I think Stolas had a lot of fun singing his butt off at karaoke.”

Stolas’ cheeks warmed as Blitz nearly choked on a laugh while Via buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Stols, really?”

“Oh my stars, Dad, why?”

“It was an impromptu decision,” Stolas sniffed with as much dignity as he could muster. He flicked his napkin out and laid it across his lap before picking up his knife and fork.

“Brought on by about four glasses of wine,” Loona added, earning another laugh from Blitz and another scoff from Via.

“Thank you for dinner, Loona,” Stolas said primly in response.

They all began eating then, cutting into their steaks as they chatted about, well, things. Nothing in particular, just life. Via mentioned how excited she was to pick up the new album she’d ordered at the music shop across town and Blitz offered to drive her there. Loona made a comment about how she’d read online that the actor, Bartholomew St. Clair, was rumoured to be guest-starring in an upcoming episode of Hela Novela, making Stolas slam down his fork and gasp.

“He’s going to play Gabriella’s shady ex-boyfriend! I just know it!” he declared, and Blitz reached across the table to gently pat his hand.

“Uh huh. Sure, Honey.”

Stolas huffed as the girls laughed and Blitz snickered to himself.

“I just think he has enough of a roguish flare to pull it off, that’s all,” Stolas explained.

Blitz hummed distractedly as he eyed his phone, lying screen-up on the table. “Mhmm. Still no word from Moxx or Millie. What’s the bet those two burned down the office while we were gone?”

Loona raised a hand even as she gulped back a glassful of icy water. “My money’s on pipsqueak smashing the computer.”

“I’d smash the computer too if I had to work with you lot all day,” Octavia joked with a roll of her eyes.

Loona flipped her off without looking at her and they all laughed.

Stolas smiled, wiping a tear from his eye as he glanced around the table at the three people who had made his life into something more than a chore. In the early days leading up to his marriage, Stolas had always longed for something like this. Even if Stella hadn’t been his wife of choice, he’d held out hope that the two of them and little Via could’ve been something. If not a family, then at least a unit, something that felt natural to fit into under a shared roof. But that had never been possible. He’d thought it never would be possible.

Except now, with Blitz and Loona joining him and Via, that vision now shone in stark clarity before his very eyes. That warmth, that melding of voices and laughter around a dinner table, that sense of belonging—it was a dream no longer.

Something brushed Stolas’ hand and he glanced down to see Blitz brushing his fingers against Stolas knuckles. Stolas looked up at Blitz’s content smile, his own love and adoration reflected back at him. His heart feeling fit to burst, Stolas slipped his hand into Blitz’s, squeezing tight. He longed to be alone with Blitz, to take him into his arms and let that burning adulation scorch the both of them, but that could come later.

For now, they had dinner with their girls to enjoy. As Stolas lifted a forkful of broccoli to his beak, he was happy to know he had many more such dinners to look forward to.