Page 94 of The Fake Divination Offense
I get us out of the car. With both our bags from the trip hooked over my shoulder and the boxes from Bel’s apartment stacked in my arms, I lead us to the elevator, then up to my floor. Every security feature grabs my attention now, how I have to punch in a code to access the elevator but it stops at any floor, meaning whoever has that code can easily get in. And then there’s the long expanse of open hallway leading to my door; it has a security camera, sure, but is it recording? If the building owner doesn’t write me back by tomorrow morning, I’ll stop at her office.
Did Gulus get in here? He’s probably watching from a distance like he has been, likely in a building nearby—there’s a hotel diagonal across the street. Maybe he’s there?
I juggle the boxes to reach for my keys when Bel takes them from me and unlocks the apartment I point to. He swings the door open and I stumble inside, bumping on the entryway light with my elbow and setting his boxes and our travel bags on the tiled floor.
As I shut the door behind us and throw the deadbolt and chain, Bel looks around with his mouth slightly agape. It’s a far cry from his old apartment, and seeing it now, fresh off being there, the differences are… drastic. The walls are clean and white, the fixtures all high-end, and it smells like vanilla air freshener.
“Guestroom’s through there,” I say, pointing to the room on our immediate left. “It has a closet that’s basically empty, so if the master one is too small, feel free to expand. Straight ahead is the open-plan kitchen, living, and dining room, and off to the right is—”
“I called it, baby. He’s moving his little cheerleader in.”
Halfway over the threshold of the main room, I spot Seb and Thio stretched out on my oversized couch. The sun set about an hour ago, and they’re lurking in the glow of their phones.
I pop on the overhead light and brace my hands on my hips.
“Did you? Move him in?” Thio tosses his phone onto the coffee table with a groan. “Just let me winonebet involving you. Just one.”
I roll my eyes. “How often do you two bet on me?”
Seb, his head in Thio’s lap, grins. “Frequently enough that you’ve become a regular part of our foreplay. It’s creating a troubling Pavlovian response, honestly.”
Behind me, Bel makes a confused chirp.
I rub the skin over my nose, sigh, and step aside. “You remembermy little cheerleader? Seb, Thio.” I point them out to Bel.
Bel inches forward, arms folded protectively around himself. “Hi.”
I tug him into my side and he looks at me with a forced smile.
Seb bolts to his feet, fixing his twisted T-shirt. Oh gods, they were making out on my couch, weren’t they?
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Seb says. “You’re moving in together, right?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“Which is cause forcelebration. My gods, O, you found someone willing to put up with your shit, and he’s cute as fuck and basically an anthropomorphized woodland creature.”
Bel mouthswoodland creature?
“And yet,” Seb carries on, coming closer. “You text me all that vague shit about needing to update your security, and you come in with this weird, strained energy like someone died. What’s going on? Am I breaking out champagne or is there a body we need to hide?”
He’s joking. Sort of. Worry slips free in the way he taps his foot.
“Okay,” I start. “I’m going to need you to sit down and not freak out.”
In direct contrast to that, Thio pushes up from the couch.
I grunt. “Guys, seriously. It’ll be easier if you—”
“I’m the mortal descendant of Galaxrien Vossen.”
My head snaps down to where Bel’s still tucked up against my side, but he steps away, fisted hands unwinding from his chest and shoulders pulling back. He looks exhausted, his hair mussed from sleeping in the car, bags under his eyes. And now, facing Seb and Thio, he’s got that resigned look again. Like he knows whatever’s going to happen won’t go in his favor, but he’s accepted that inevitability.
Seb and Thio are frozen. Their faces unreadable.
“My real name is Belzaroth Reynolds,” Bel continues. “And Orok agreed to be my new handler to keep me safe from the Galaxrien cultists trying to use me to resurrect him. Summon him. Free him from the pit he’s trapped in on the Demonic Plane. Whatever.”
He looks up at me, fatigue and gratitude and a lifetime of emotions colliding all at once.
