Page 101 of The Fake Divination Offense
Bel’s smirk turns a little breathless when my eyes rise back to his. “Wecouldhave time for it,” he prods.
I shake my head and rub a hand across my trimmed beard. “No, that’s not—what’sthat?”
I wave at the duffel bag.
“Your game-day stuff?” Bel’s head tips to the side. “Did I pack something wrong?”
“You shouldn’t have packedanything, sweetheart.”
He blushes again, meek this time, fingers toying with the dishcloth. “It was there. I had time.”
“And what are you doing now?”
The toe of his shoe digs into the carpet, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he mumbles, “Meal prepping.”
The buzzer on the washing machine chooses that moment to go off.
I arch an eyebrow at him.
“And some light laundry.” Bel breaks out of his humility with a frustrated groan. “I live here, too, right? I’m doing what normal people do when they live together. Housekeeping.”
I cross the room and wrap my arms around him. He falls against me, sulking to my chest.
It’s been a week since he moved in. A week of carpooling to HQ for practices or meetings, and me only being okay with Bel out of my sight because he’s got that necklace, and Gulus is still a nebulous shadow in the distance. A week of Seb and Thio coming over for dinner, and Bel begging Thio to teach him how to cook. A week of Bel immediately dropping his human form when the door shuts behind us. Of him rehearsing his cheer routines in the living room. Of me buying tons of stepladders and lifts to make my giant-sized apartment accessible for him, and filling an entire cupboard with dark chocolate peanut butter cups just to hear him cackle with glee.
Of this place being our own little haven.
I bend down to rest my forehead on his. “We talked about this. You don’t have to earn your keep.”
Bel looks up at me without disengaging our foreheads. “I’m not going to freeload off you. You won’t let me pay rent, so you’re going to have to get used to me cooking and cleaning.”
“And packing for me?”
He pulls back and runs his fingers through my chest hair. “I’ll stop doing chores if you stop the research.”
My dining room table has been overtaken by old college books I pulled out of storage, texts I ordered online, and research Ilbryen shipped over when I asked for their info on Galaxrien’s cult.
The official religion of the Temple of Galaxrien Vossen is well documented, but the specific ritual the cultists are obsessed with is less so. It’s based on an offhanded comment made by a Galaxrien priest generations ago about their demon lordbreaking free.The comment wasn’t even a full-blown prophecy and was never officially sanctioned by the Temple; it was one guy waxing hopeful about Galaxrien escaping the pit in the Demonic Plane where Urzoth Shieldsworn trapped him.
Nevertheless, a subset of the Galaxrien faith took it as gospel, and cultists have added on over the years: someone claimed it’d happen on a spring equinox; someone else countered with summer; then it went back to spring and seems to have stuck there, despite the cultists repeatedly doing rituals on days that aren’tanyequinox. Sometimes the ritual involves a full sacrifice, sometimes a piece of his descendant’s body. One cultist swears the ritual involves handcuffs tosymbolize Galaxrien’s suffering. Someone else claims it won’t work unless they have a bottle of ghost pepper hot sauce tosummon the flames of hell.
This is why the cultists’ ritual changes so often. None of them knows what they’re doing. And they’re all dumbasses.
Ghost pepper hot sauce? Seriously?
There’s been an uptick among people of demonic ancestry in the news since that attack, decrying the cultists for targeting them—even though the guy they tried to sacrifice wasn’t even demonic. The Urzoth church has also been making headlines for theirdemonstrations of strengthin response to their member being taken, mostly public fights organized by the church; but people seem more sympathetic to Urzoth worshippers being upset this time around.
It brought me back to another issue: How did the cultists know Galaxrien’s descendant is tied to the Urzoth church now?
Ilbryen also sent over a list of everyone who knows about Bel, who might have leaked his info to the cultists. It’s not a long list—Ilbryen, Gulus, Tem, three other members of their immediate adventure party, as well as a clerk who helps organize sensitive missions between their larger union of adventure parties.
I’m not exactly sure how to go about investigating. Ilbryen’s doing her own investigation, but do I hire someone to dig into them? They’re scattered all over the country—how do I question people who aren’t even in this city? I can barely get a read on Gulus. He came to inspect the apartment, nodded in approval of my security wards, and left. Barely said four words to us. Is he the mole? Hell if I know.
There might have been a bit of validity in Tem’s concerns about my qualifications. I am, when it comes down to it, an athlete with a lot of money and an interest in world religions. Is this as far as my ability to analyze plays and defensive maneuvers can go?
Is it going to be enough to keep Bel safe?
I run my thumb across his necklace. “Bel—”
