for how long? How long do we have before the Gate wants a sixth or seventh Guardian? Will it just keep demanding more until it eventually breaks? But I banish that thought, because we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, or hope we somehow figure out a way to never come to it.
“So what does your brother do now?” I ask, hoping to change the direction of all of our thoughts to something less ominous.
“He works for an Avarice think tank,” Iceman states casually, but I don’t miss the slight scrunch of his nose as he says that, as if he thinks it would be the worst job ever.
Avarice...why does that name sound so familiar?
I get lost in thought as I try to place where I’ve heard that before. “Wait. Avarice... Tazreel called that jewelry-loving dude that name right before we came back home.”
“Yes. My brother works for him,” Iceman confirms.
“So...Avarice is his title? And your brother works for his Hell company or something?”
“I guess you could look at it like that. That male at the party is the Abdicated responsible for the entire sin of Avarice, which is why Tazreel called him that.”
I blink at him. “Avarice is…”
“The sin of wealth and material greed,” he supplies.
“And your brother works for him? In a think tank?” I question, really fucking confused.
They give me a funny look. “Did your dad—I mean Tazreel,” Echo quickly corrects when I give him a glare, “not explain to you that he’s Pride?”
I snort incredulously. “He didn’t have to explain that. I’ve never met a more arrogant, prideful, prick in my life.”
He shakes his head, running a tattooed hand over his shaved head. “No, not like that. I mean, yes, I agree about him being a proud prick, but he didn’t explain to you about how Pride works?”
I stare at Echo for a beat. How Pride works? Like the parade?
“Um...does Hell do something different for Pride than we do here?” I ask. “Is it less rainbow-y or something?”
“What?” Jerif cuts in, confused. “What do rainbows have to do with Pride?”
I saw plenty of same sex action in the orgy my wings forced me to fly all over, so either Jerif is oblivious or we’re talking about two different things.
“Pride? Like the Gay Pride celebration? Is that what you’re talking about?” I ask. Jerif runs a hand down his face as if he’s been trying to teach me Shakespeare, only to realize I can’t read Dr. Seuss.
Everyone stops and looks at me, giving me that how does she not know look.
“Shit. Did I start speaking another language again?” I ask, bringing my hand to my lips and mumbling against them as though I can feel the words and figure out what language they are. It doesn’t help. It’s like trying to smell your own breath by breathing into a cupped palm...totally useless, and yet, I can’t stop doing it.
I once saw this spelling bee, and the kid that won would hold her hand in front of her mouth and sound out the words. It was a lot of awkwardly heavy breathing, and I remember thinking that even though she won, images of her sex-breathing on her hand would haunt her for life. Right now, at this moment though, I totally get it. Maybe she was also trying to make sure the answer was in English and not Demonish, or whatever it was called.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jerif sighs, shaking his head at me. “Not Pride as in the parade, Pride as in Pride. One of the seven deadly sins.”
“Oh.”
Crux starts to crack up, but Iceman and Echo just look at me with shock. “Maverick, the Abdicated that you had dinner with are the Generals of the Seven Sins. Tell me someone explained that to you,” Iceman pleads incredulously.
I feel a blush work up my neck as I shake my head. Now I’m even more pissed off at Taz. I attended a dinner party with not only the fucking Devil, but also with the embodiment of the Seven Deadly Sins? What the actual fuck?
“Of course they didn’t,” I snap, irritation laced in my tone as I think back to those Abdicated. “Why explain something like that when it’s so much fun to just leave me in the dark and watch shit go down like me threatening to scythe the Prince of Darkness?” I snark.
“Wait. You did what?” Jerif growls, his flaming eyes narrowed on me.
“It was a misunderstanding,” I defend. “But even though he pretended