Page 80 of Not Your Ex's Hexes
“No,” she said almost too quickly, before adding, “well, I knew about the prince of Hell part, but I didn’t know your father was Ezeil.”
She fought not to cringe. Damian couldn’t help who is father was any more than she could deter her mother’s matchmaking attempts. But Ezeil, the former demon representative of the Supernatural Council, definitely had a reputation—and not a good one. If memory served her right, she’d met him at one of the first Supernatural summits that she’d attended with her gran, and that fleeting introduction had been more than enough for her.
But to be raised by the demon? Rose nearly shivered at the thought.
Damian chuckled dryly, almost as if reading her mind. “Yeah. Safe to say he wasn’t the playing catch type of father.”
Rose was struck with a thought. “So if Lucifer was your father’s father, does that make you a prince or duke or earl or something?”
This time Damian’s chuckle was real. “Not even close. To Ezeil’s annoyance, he wasn’t conceived. He was created. It was enough to award him a prince title and to put him in charge of building up Lucy’s elite forces for about five hundred years, but that was about it. So in a second attempt to win his boss’s favor, the bastard put extra focus on Julius and myself and hoped we’d be able to achieve what he didn’t. Becoming Lucifer’s right hand.”
“And Julius liked the idea and you didn’t?” Rose guessed, slowly digesting everything.
Damian hesitated, looking slightly less sure of himself. “For a long time, it was the other way around.”
“Really?”
“My mother had been a Norm, which in Ezeil’s eyes was my largest weakness. So I overcompensated. I trained harder. Worked smarter. The more I embraced my demon side, the more approval I saw in his eyes. The more approval I received, the more I sought. It was a never-ending, escalating cycle.”
“And Julius?”
“Julius was always more of a lover than a fighter, and was pretty content letting me do the dirty work and taking most of the credit for it. He didn’t Hunt because he loved it. He Hunted because of the money it could give him. Me on the other hand? It almost became the air I breathed. By the time I realized I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror after a Hunt, it was too late.”
Realization had her studying Damian in a different light. “The hex…”
He nodded. “Talk about a wake-up call. But during every attempt to distance myself from the Hunter life, Julius shoved me right back into the fray, chanting about embracing my inner demon. The more I did, and the more targets I hauled in, the more perks he enjoyed—including the old man’s approval.”
“But you stopped…”
“I did… eventually… and all thanks to Miguel. But the second I cut myself off from that life, Julius was cut off too.”
“Your father—”
“Denounced us. Disinherited. Whatever you want to call it. We were no longer his problem.”
“But you’ve both done well for yourself. Julius is now on the Supernatural Council, and you went to college, became a vet, and run a sanctuary for sick and abused animals. That’s not exactly a shabby life, Damian.”
“None of that would’ve happened without Miguel, and didn’t happen before I pissed off the wrong witch. So don’t let Julius’s ‘I’m a Councilman for the betterment of Norm- and Supernatural-kind’ fool you. He did it because I wasn’t the only one Ezeil cut off, and he’d become so accustomed to living the cushy high life, the Supernatural Council was the only way he could maintain it.”
The story seemed so far-fetched and yet not. No sense, and yetallthe sense. Still, it baffled her mind and stole her concentration until Damian’s attention drifted beyond her shoulder. “Looks like Virginia’s ducking out.”
Rose turned, expecting an eight-foot giant with horns and a spiked tail. Something ferocious and hell-like, much like the Gryndors. Instead, the person headed their way pushed a rolling walker and wore a JBFan4Eva concert T-shirt.
She spun on Damian, who still perched against the brick wall and sported a shit-eating grin. “You find this funny? She’s not a day younger than ninety!”
He shrugged. “This is who we’ve been told to bring in. Have at it, Miss Bounty Hunter. Clock’s tickin’.”
Was it mean of Damian to serve Rose up to the demon?Yep.Was it necessary?Absolutely.
It was the quickest way to nip this latest fascination in the bud, but in case things went sideways with Virginia Cummings, he was there. Virginia’s outer, fragile Norm exterior was a ruse to blend seamlessly into the background, one that allowed the demon to get away with a whole lot of nefarious deeds.
Sometimes Faroi took the shape of kids, or gangly-limbed teens. Others—like Virginia—picked the elderly population as their muse. No matter the size or shape, they weren’t any less conniving, or dangerous. In fact, it made them more so, because when they took unthreatening guises, people’s defenses dropped, and when guards went down, the demons feasted.
Staying against the building, Damian let Rose take the lead.
She eyed the older woman’s approach. “Um… are you Virginia Cummings?”
The demon glanced up, gray eyes blinking innocently behind her thick-lensed bottle-cap glasses. “Yes, dear. That’s me.”
