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WIP: I Accidentally Reanimated the Billionaire's Hellhound

  • Mar 14
  • 24 min read

Updated: Jul 19

Chapter 1: The Dog Ate Me...?

Tuesday just past Midnight

Isobel Shipton

Dr. Isobel Shipton squinted at the black image with hazy white cross-sections. Trying once more, she blinked and glared at the X-ray in disbelief. A distinct white glow of…

A spinal cord, a rib cage, and what appears to be an … X?

No, that’s the shape of … a crucifix?

Isobel’s brown eyes went wide, and her brow furrowed. In fact, her stomach sank if what she saw was indeed a crucifix of any kind inside this hellhound.

“I don’t know if surgery will be much help, Mr. Lionhart,” she confessed, dreading the terrible fact herself.

Great. I can hear the tabloids now: “Billionaire’s Hellhound Flatlines at City’s Largest Supernatural Vet Hospital!”

Looming close behind her was the hellhound’s owner, Arael Lionhart, a billionaire bachelor she hadn’t expected to walk off the cover of Paranormal Times and march into her lobby tonight. The exam rooms were tiny. No one wants to chase a three-headed cat into a corner and keep running a mile until you do so just to check its temperature. A metal table is all that lay between them, and with his legs, three steps would have him right behind her where she stood. All his fans would die for an opportunity like this. Just knowing she stood so close to the actor and business tycoon where he leaned on the table with nothing more than a casual Stone Dragon’s band shirt and sweatpants had her feeling a bit surreal.

What was that romance movie where he was in the shower called again? I Am Yours. That’s right…

Flashes of Arael Lionhart flooded her mind as she lost her focus on the X-ray. Suits filled the tabloids and television of him, especially after his breakup with fellow business partner Artemis. Then there was that swimsuit magazine he was only wearing boardshorts, but the shot had a beach ball covering half his visage and ruined it for everyone. But the movie. How many times did she pause and rewind to that scene for a stolen shot of his bare ass before the water and shower door conveniently blocked it? Her thoughts started to scatter more and more with each passing second in the room with Arael Lionhart as she caught a whiff of his cologne.

What is that? Citrus with lavender and … sandalwood?

Ugh, my mind keeps wandering. Come on Izzy! I know he’s your celebrity crush but…

Isobel wasn’t sure if working the night division was a curse or a blessing. It wasn’t every day a drop-dead gorgeous billionaire pleaded for you to save their dog, but the situation wasn’t looking good. His hellhound ate a crucifix. Something utterly unheard of. Something that means he may not come back from…

“Is it really that bad?” Arael’s voice had a seductive allure even under these conditions.

“Exactly how did your hellhound get close enough to a crucifix in the first place?” she insisted once more, suspecting foul play.

Everyone knew hellhounds and similar demonic creatures would be repelled from a room housing a strong holy item. Under the right setup, it repelled them from a whole building! Glancing back at the X-ray, the question she wanted to know was how his hellhound managed to have one in its belly. Something didn’t add up.

“Holy relic,” Arael corrected, clearing his throat as he avoided the expression of disbelief she shot back at him.

“A h-holy relic?” she choked out. “Mr. Lionhart, how did he get close to a holy relic let alone eating it?” Dr. Shipton spun around, the over six-foot-tall brute met her with his purple gaze peeking out from under his auburn hair that was nothing more than a messy mop.

And still hot. 

Arael’s eyes darted back to the ground in guilt. “Yea, about that…”

She waited in the silence as the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock filled the room.

Is he going to finish that sentence?

He can’t be serious.

Does he really think I don’t suspect foul play at this point?

“A holy relic should’ve repelled him from entering the same room,” Isobel reasoned, fearing something far more sinister had unfolded with the pour hellhound. “My team is setting him up for surgery as we speak, but I still need the details, Mr. Lionhart.”

“Right.” Arael's face flushed making eye contact again.

Isobel’s breath caught.

That cover doesn’t do him justice!

Those fucking eyes… This is serious! Focus!

“But the relic was in the yard.” Arael stated firmly as if this was a simple matter of fact that reasoned away how it all happened.

“The yard?” Isobel gave him a baffled expression. “But it’s a holy relic! Why would you put it in the yard? You can’t just go and buy a new one, or, maybe you could, but…” Isobel was at a lost as she waved her hands about in disbelief.

How rich is Arael Lionhart to afford to toss rare magical items into the yard like street trash? And let his hellhound chew them up!

Arael shrugged. “It was probably the fight with my ex-girlfriend.”

Wasn’t he dating Artemis? As in the goddess Artemis? The infamous Greek Huntress notorious for being abusive and toxic to her boy-toys Artemis?

Dr. Isobel took in a deep inhale, aiming to pry further, or better yet, scold him for his recklessness, but the door opened. She snapped her jaw close, thankful for the intrusion as her temper flared. This moron she found herself ogling at had no scope of what was happening and what was so wrong about the whole ordeal. Sandra gave a mischievous smirk. Her assistant was a veterinarian technician and half-fae. Sandra Buttonwood arched a brow behind her thick rimmed glasses, pushing them for better focus on the subject-matter. The mischievous half-fae turned and found herself basking in the sight of Arael Lionhart. Those green eyes brightened as she nudged her glasses up again and tucked a loose lock of blonde hair behind an ear.

Who could blame her at this point? The sexual charge he emits must have her on a new high tonight considering her fae side.

Arael Lionhart was after all newly named the Bachelor of the Year, a top ten business tycoon on the Gorbes list for three years running, and let’s not forget his recent movie release in that chart-topping romance. Everyone is obsessed with sharing snippets of his saucy lines and his bare ass had been burnt to memory in the back of even Izzy’s mind. Sandra’s cheeks reddened and Isobel cleared her throat, giving her a smug look of recognition as to where both their minds ran off to in a moment of sheer lusty weakness.

I know, he’s gorgeous, but keep it together, Sandra. We can imagine him naked later. 

Shaking her head, Sandra recalled what she had interrupted for. “The hellhound is ready for surgery, Dr. Shipton.”

With a sigh, Isobel turned to Arael bracing herself for what she knew was inevitable. “Being in the same room as a relic can make a hellhound horribly ill, Mr. Lionhart. Yours ate one. I can’t make any promises on whether or not he’ll make it. Are you sure you want use to go through an attempt for retrieval? He may not survive no matter what we try.”

A frown deepened on Arael’s face, the expression pitiful. “I know. Just … do what you can.”

“As you wish.” With that, Dr. Shipton spun on her heel.

Washing her hands, Isobel prepped herself for the operating room. Mask, gloves, apron, and hair cover in place, she pushed into the brightly lit room. It was larger than an exam room with massive lights overhead that could be moved with ease. All around the cabinets and equipment had been an endeavor to make sure they had something for all kinds of supernatural pets. The investment had been risky, but the clinic had become well-known with many other offices sending clients to them for surgeries to testing. Isobel was proud what she had helped build over the last few years. The one thing they still lacked, that all veterinarians lacked, was a magic user who could pump mana into certain creatures and situations. Anyone who had the ability for magic in the medical fields was often whisked away to the supernatural entity hospitals and practices. This would have been one of those times it could stave off death.

Please let this work… I’m owed a miracle anyhow, right?

A hellhound was ugly as sin. They reeked of sulfur and rotting flesh, though they had no rot so-to-speak. Not like on zombified pets or raised mummified cats who ran risk of mold and bacterial leakage without embalming treatments. Regardless, they were often classified as demonic undead hound types in the textbooks. Hairless and red glowing lines made them look like a Doberman Pinscher on steroids with a severe case of mange, giving them a scaly look at times. Despite that, it looked miserable on the steel table with the oxygen tube and IV hooked up to him. Her eye caught the collar on the counter, the tag read: Macula. His breathing agitated, his body fighting the relic’s holy magic which aimed to repel everything that made him a creature designed to live in Hell. A shudder rocked her shoulders as she imagined the pain of it all.

No time to waste, Izzy.

Macula needs you to bring him back from the verge of death. If I’m even capable…

With a stroke of her scalpel, Isobel gained access to his stomach, and in a matter of minutes had the relic on a platter for another assistant to move to the far end of the building and out the back door. They couldn’t chance the hellhound being exposed to anymore holy magic at this stage. With precision skill and a flick of her wrist, she began sewing the beast close. Halfway down the incisions she paused as alarms began to go off.

It didn’t work. Shit.

“His heartrate just shot up,” warned Sandra.

“That’s normal for them, but what’s his temperature? That’s the deal breaker.” Isobel placed a hand on the hellhound’s neck and side. “He’s getting too cold!”

“It just dipped below a hundred! Grabbing the heating pads!” Sandra rushed to one side, yoking out pads and unwrapping cords. “I’ll get these going! You keep stitching.”

“R-right.” Isobel went back to closing the incision, the bells and whistles silent in the wake of her focus.

I refuse to let you die here and now, Macula.

If I even have an ounce of power, I will pull you through this so you can live again!

“By the gods, if we kill Arael Lionhart’s hellhound…” Sandra’s voice squeaked as she started the thermometer once more.

Isobel swallowed, her heart racing. “The dog ate a holy relic. It’s not like we force fed it to him.”

“But it’s ARAEL LIONHART. The one that dumped Artemis—” The thermometer beeped. “Still sitting at a hundred, Izzy.”

“Dammit.” Tying off the stitches, Isobel tucked the heating pad over it. “Keep trying to get his temp back to one-twenty or more. If we can’t, we’re going to lose him. It’s hard enough to heal a hellhound that’s sick from holy magic exposure but, eating a holy object…”

If I just had any mana to pump into him, just maybe he could…

The heart monitor flatlined and Isobel’s stomach dropped.

He’s not going to make it.

Dr. Shipton watched helpless as the hellhound’s life faded. What glow remained in his fiery cracks went dark and his breathing ceased. The thermometer beeping, the number dropping into the nineties now. His heart slowed, each thump agonizing before silence.

I’ve failed.

By the gods, why did I have to be born with no magic!

It wasn’t like a normal dog where she could shock the heart back to life and resuscitate it. With magical creatures and beings, both ran on magic she didn’t have. Bile rolled up and Isobel swallowed the bitter taste down. This was a high-profile situation she had no hope of coming back from. Anyone capable of such magic had a higher calling than veterinarian science anyhow. Any witch or magic user worth their mana would get ten times the pay at a supernatural being practice. Wasting magic on a pet seemed … ill-advised, even for Isobel’s family of talented Merkabah, or Jewish Mystics.

It would take a demon general of the highest order to revive a hellhound, or more terrifying, a necromancer. But why would they spare the mana for a hellhound?

Leaning on the operating table, Isobel felt defeated. “I hate being talentless. If I just could use just a little ounce of magic…” Isobel flung off her gloves and uncovered her face. “Macula, if I had mana, I would bring you back to life, bring you back to your former state so you could live once more.”

“Izzy. I can clean this up.” Sandra’s soft voice broke through the guilt rattling through Isobel. “If you want, I can tell Arael–”

“No, I’ll tell him.” The dead hellhound still seemed menacing, but it didn’t stop Isobel from petting his head and leaning in to whisper into his ear. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Macula.” Turning to Sandra, she relented. “Just leave the body here. I’ll see what he wants me to do with the remains.”

Honestly I knew the odds were terrible, but some part of me hoped…

Isobel marched out of the operating room. Tossing her apron and hair cover into the large trash bin, she flew back into the exam room where Arael stopped pacing. Pulling her mask down to her chin, she gave him a look of sympathy. His body language made it clear he loved his hellhound, but if her experience served her well, the bigger the man, the harder they cried. Flashbacks of the time she had to tell Mr. Bonneville, a resident Sasquatch in town, that his Wampus Cat had cancer came to mind. A shudder shook her over the sounds that came out of his mouth which had set off others of his kind to call back equally mournful.

She inhaled deep, holding it there in preparation for what she titled as The Hard Talk.

“That bad?” Arael leaned on the examination table. “This is my fault.”

“I’m sorry, we removed the relic, but we couldn’t keep his temperature up,” Dr. Shipton started, speaking firmly, professionally. 

This never gets any easier to do, no matter who’s pet or what kind of animal we’re talking about.

Isobel stiffened, their eyes locked, and her tone grew sterner. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lionhart, your hellhound didn’t make it. There’s nothing we can do, but his suffering has ended.”

Here comes that heart cringing expression.

Arael’s face fell forward, leaving her with no clue to his facial expression as she stared at the top of his head, the dark locks falling in disordered waves. Isobel waited, almost straining her ears to hear some hint of tears or crying. Her eyes wondered over to his bicep and down his arm muscles then shot back to his head.

He’s not eye candy, Izzy!

You just told him his hellhound died.

Pull it together!

The silence was agonizing, and at last, she decided to keep the conversation flowing forward in lieu of her drooling over how breathtakingly handsome he was in person. She began pulling off the mask completely, and with another huff, started again.

“Do you want us to pack his remains up to take home with you?” she offered.

His face shot up; no tears but panic written there. “Oh no. No, I don’t want them. You can do whatever it is you do with them. Cremate it? Bury it?” Arael waved it off, his brow dropping as he covered his mouth with a hand. “Maybe I can just tell my brother I lost him, or that he ran away. No, I don’t think he would buy that. He is the king of liars…”

Perplexed by his words, Isobel found her guilt replaced with anger. “I thought you said this was your hellhound?”

“It is.” Arael puffed out his cheeks and blew out a breath before confessing, “But Macula was a gift from my brother, and well, he’s not the sort to take me killing a rare breed of hellhound so easily. Especially after barely having it a few weeks.”

This moron!

Isobel marveled over the idea, glaring at the purple-eyed buffoon as if he were a mad man. “Mr. Lionhart, I don’t think–”

“Oh!” Arael locked eyes with her, and she snapped her lips closed. “How much?”

“How much?” Dr. Shipton furrowed her brow as he came closer, the heat of his hand on her shoulder tingling and Isobel realized she came eye-level with his pecs.

Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Stop gawking!

What the hell is going on with my mind in the gutter tonight, holy shit.

“For the operation, the emergency visit, and the trouble?” Arael twisted, the left pec almost connecting with her nose only making her face flush. “How much will this cost? I imagine even with him dying you still need to get paid. It is a business, after all.”

“Huge-Pecky-dollars.” Gasping, Isobel covered her mouth.

What the fuck did I just say to him?

 Arael Lionhart turned back with a smirk so wicked, she shivered.

Please tell me he didn’t hear me.

“Excuse me?” Arael lifted an eyebrow, a sparkle in those magnificent purple eyes. “What was that price? Please repeat that for me?”

“Uh, uh, a hundred-fifty dollars.” Isobel swallowed. “For the exam.” She fumbled through her words. “But they’ll have the full cost up … front.”

Where did that come from?

Have I lost my mind?

And my voice was so horridly loud in this echoing exam room when I said it!

Why did he have to be so close and touching my arm!

Arael chuckled, pulling cash from his billfold, and mumbled, “Yea, they’re big pecs alright.”

Oh, no… he heard me.

Isobel shook her head, the heat in her face hot enough to fry eggs. “You can pay upfront,” she blurted hoping he’ll leave considering he was blocking the door to the back hallway she so desperately wanted to escape to and die in her office with what little dignity she had left.

Noticing her gaze, Arael shuffled to the side. With that, Isobel fought the urge to rush to the door. She was positive he’d heard the ridiculous comment and was thoroughly amused by it no less. It was no secret how red her face had become over the incident. Even if she let loose her wavy brown hair, it wouldn’t be able to hide the shades of red she had become in a matter of seconds.

Why! The man just lost his dog!

Why is my mouth betraying me!

I’ve been single too long!

A groan escaped her as she centered herself as she attempted to leave at a reasonable pace.

Ugh, my little sister Rachel foretold this moment I bet!

Let’s pray she doesn’t find out it really happened and with whom.

“Dr. Shipton.” She froze, his voice hitting her like silken sheets as he cracked open the other door behind her. “Look at me,” he demanded in such a sultry tone it sent goosebumps across her.

“Yes, Mr. Lionhart?” Peering over her shoulder, she fought the crushing little girl chomping at the bit within her beating heart when they locked eyes.

I’ve been looking at you! That’s the problem! 

“Thank you for everything tonight.” His eyes dipped over her and she shuddered. “Hope we see each other on better terms in the near future.”

Arael winked, setting Isobel’s face back on fire as she marched through her own door.

It’s official. Arael Lionhart could make any woman melt with a wink like that! I’ll never look at another photo of him the same after this. Fuck my life.


Chapter 2: To Have a Hellhound

Wednesday Morning

Arael Lionhart

Arael unlocked his door and stood in the darkness as it shut behind him. His chest ached as no rush of sulfur, and a boiling-hot creature was there to greet him. In most cases, it was hard to get clearance to even own a hellhound in most places due to their natural destructive behaviors and magic. Luckily for him, this was a gated community full of small luxury homes perfect for high profile residents where the rules could be changed for a fee. Yet he still constantly had to fight the paparazzi just outside the gate, and worse, the neighbors cashing in on gossip magazine incentives if they called in with something juicy. No matter where he lived, the thought of keeping anything private for long was a pipe dream. Granted, the Elder Deity Council circumvented and filtered a good portion due to his rights as a higher being. Even then, Arael hated their constant presence in his life, both the tabloids and the EDC.

I really fucked things up. And may have broken some EDC laws in there.

Ironically, the veterinarian hospital was on the other side of the brick wall that sectioned the luxury subdivision from the rest of the city. It wasn’t the only place he owned and lived in, but it was the one he would gladly call home or a smaller fortress of solitude. Here he allowed himself to forget who he was, shedding the titles life and society had crowned him with publicly and secretly. Besides, he may be a higher being, but he had feelings and needed somewhere to safely deal with them without the fear of inciting the next world-ending event for losing his calm in a situation. It had taken him centuries to just accept there would never be a way for him to escape the responsibility he had been bestowed by his Father[VW1] . Granted the EDC lightened that weight in recent times.

Ugh, what a mess…

His phone started to ring, and he silenced it. Glancing down at the screen, it read Luc yet again and he groaned. Arael ignored his brother’s phone call for the sixth time since he walked into the veterinarian office. Running a hand through his hair, Arael tossed the cell phone on the coffee table. His mouth ran dry with one thought:

I killed my dog.

If I had finished cleaning up after that fight just maybe…

Crashing down on his leather couch, his muscular arms stretched across the back with ease. Arael glared up at the ceiling where burnt marks from fiery saliva had tinged the white paint. Even now the lingering sulfur and hellfire smell wafting from the couch made him sigh. The house was lifeless and silent in the early morning hours without Macula. Glancing at the wall clock, it ticked pass five in the morning.

“I should have picked up my shit from the yard when Artemis threw it out the window last week,” Arael mumbled to himself. “But I was so damn depressed.”

I’m too old to be doing this. Too rich not to pay someone to clean it up for me, too! A snap of fingers and it would have all been fixed but the EDC frowns on doing so.

Arael hadn’t shown the guilt in front of Dr. Shipton, but he let it press down on every fiber now in the solitude and safety of his home. Here, no one could see his moment of weakness, or the real depths of his sorrow. What confused him further is that for the amount of magic Dr. Shipton held, she seemed to struggle. Well, that was until he placed a hand on her and realized what was happening. He assumed she could handle the operation, pump the hellhound with mana even, but when she came back with the news…

How long has her magic been stuck behind that seal? When I touched her arm, I did get a better gauge on what was going on with her. Doesn’t matter anymore. If she wasn’t able to save Macula, surely with her magic set free she might be able to save the next animal in need.

Flashes of the goofy, mangey expression of Macula the hellhound flashed in his mind. Guilt waved over Arael once more. No one should have to ever take a hellhound to a vet, let alone in an emergency visit. They were indestructible save against one element … that he so happened to place in his bedroom because it repelled dark magic. Well, kept Macula from destroying his bed and personal items he did hold dear including irreplaceable collections of magic and non-magic variety.

“I’m so sorry, Macula. It wasn’t fair to you. What a horrible way to go: death by holy relic. Luc’s going to be livid when he finds out. Granted, this might be…”

Rubbing his forehead, Arael fussed over the details in his head.

I can’t ask Madame Fleur Noire… she’ll never stop reminding me and I’ll owe her a favor again. Last time that happened, she dragged me out of a conference meeting with investors to fight a three-headed cobra looking dragon in Sri Lanka.

Leaning forward, Arael landed his elbows on top of his thighs, and his eyes fell to the phone. It began to buzz again. Luc. None of his big brothers were easy to deal with, even Mikey who was on the “good” side of the family spectrum. Without Luc though, he wouldn’t have gotten his technologies company off the ground in the 1990s. Granted, it was made clear he owed Luc nothing. Money paid back as soon as possible, and hands washed clean. The agreement was what Luc called “mortal-level” in terms of what would be exchanged. No one should ever risk owing Luc anything or risk your own soul trying to pay him back.

Luc must know the hellhound’s dead. He has a connection to all of them which is why I was hesitant to accept the hound. Why else would he be calling so damn much? Far as I know, he left Macula with a command that would enforce what unfolded tonight. I can’t confidently say it wasn’t a means to spy on me, but the way his magic works with a hellhound leaves no means for me to detect or dispel it. It’s the same as a mage or witch’s connection to a familiar. 

Breaking away from the cellphone, Arael frowned at the pits in his tile floor. Everywhere he looked were little reminders of the creature’s existence. Souvenirs of how Macula had come into Arael’s life like a sulfuric wrecking ball when he needed him most. He had contracted protection spells against fire a little too late for damage not to be done upon his arrival. The amount of mana he spent just keeping up with him until everything could be enchanted had been a game of sort for him.

Who knew hellhound piss eats through the floor: tile, grout, concrete.

Standing, Arael marched out his sliding glass door and stood in the yard. The once manicured green grass worthy of a magazine cover was covered in yellow, brown, and black splotches. Nothing had evaded the hellhound’s presence without damage.

Piss as hot as coal fire. What an understatement.

“It looks like someone failed to make a dozen bonfires back here,” Arael muttered as he venture out into the open.

Walking to the center of the backyard, he stopped where Macula had dug up the holy relic. Macula’s large paw prints were everywhere and made Arael’s chest ache once more. They were as large as his own footprint, easily mistaken for a Dire Wolf in the right situations and just as territorial. Though, hellhounds were said to be highly intelligent, and because of that, Macula ate the ball as part of his duty to protect his master had been his initial thought.

But from what or who? Or could it have been all a…

Another pang struck him, and Arael failed to rub it out of his chest.

Despite it all, I kind of miss him. 

Glancing around he found other items still left behind from his fight with Artemis. A week had passed since he let himself fall into a deep depression that surely alarmed the hellhound. Scanning the yard there were other items that hadn’t escaped the hellhound’s destructive whims. Taking inventory, he found three chewed up and partially melted television remotes, the missing left shoe of his favorite white Armani Royale shoes, and the broken picture frame of him and his ex-girlfriend Artemis where her face had been chewed to smithereens to which he snorted. Good boy. Walking over to the frame, he pulled it out of the ground where it had been in the process of being buried for good measure. Glancing up to the second-floor window from which it had flown from, he laughed.

“Man, Artemis was so mad at me.” His boyish smirk came back. “Worth it. First break up where she couldn’t unleash on her significant other. It won’t save the next victim that falls into a toxic relationship with her though.”

The picture was one of many taken that day to get the right look and angle of the latest power couple. It was made to look like a candid shot, but in reality, the park behind them was staged. They spent a whole day at the studio with two photographers, professional makeup artists, a dozen props and staged scenes, all paid for by their merging companies. It wasn’t unheard of, two executives hooking up, playing nice, and viola, two companies become one all in one move. Artemis wanted out of mortal dealings after bad press had finally gotten under her skin, so he offered to buyout her company. In order to encourage client trust, they had decided to use a public relations move to create a more personal touch to the impromptu merger.

“Our relationship was arranged, but I think she actually started to fall for me. No, she did fall for me and got angry when I refused to return her affection. Then again, that’s why I broke it off. I realized she couldn’t draw that line. It was a staged relationship to bide time, not actually be the real thing and yet, drama. Sorry sweetheart, I warned you, but … damn, you had an arm for throwing, who knew?”

Picking up the remotes and shoe, Arael took the pile of items over to the trash bin by the backdoor. With one last look at the perfectly poised picture under shattered glass, he snorted and dropped it in. The lid slammed loud, but his neighbor’s windows remained dark and lifeless as his own. By the time he meandered his way back inside, the cell phone was buzzing still and bouncing closer to the edge of the coffee table. Flopping back on the couch, he reluctantly answered it.

“Why can’t you just accept I’m not in the mood to talk, Luc?” Arael drawled. “And it’s not like you ever knock on the door when you show up here anyway.”

“I’m just checking in on my hellhound,” Luc grumbled in response. “You hung up on me after you said, and I quote, ‘oh man, Macula’s looking green, I better get him to the vet.’ So, what was the matter? Is he dead?”

“What? Dead?” Arael’s eyes widened, and he puffed out his cheeks before blowing out the air to give his brother Luc a half-truth. “He’s just still at the vet.”

“You better not be lying to me.” There was silence between them before Luc warned further, “I hate it when you lie to me.”

“Me, lie to you? Never.” Arael rolled his eyes, wishing his brother could see the smirk on his face. “You just hate that I’m one of the few you can’t tell is lying or not. It’s true. Macula is at the veterinarian’s office. Besides, lying goes both ways in this case, doesn’t it?”

All the time with the lies to my face, Luc.

Payback is a bitch, and in your case also named Artemis.

Besides, Macula’s dead body is still at the veterinarian office, so I’m not lying. And if things go the way I think with Dr. Shipton, Macula might be alive again shortly – if she’s bold enough to cast a revival spell that is.

“What’s wrong with him?” demanded Luc.

“He ate something that didn’t agree with him.” Arael cringed, the X-ray flashing in his mind followed by the moment his eyes had fell downward to check out Dr. Shipton’s ass. “But the night division doc is a hottie.” He changed topics, his body still buzzing from the attraction that vibrated between them including her saucy thoughts of him in his movie. “Nice ass. Rowdy.”

“I thought you didn’t want to date anymore?” This peaked Luc’s interest, and Arael had successfully changed the topic. “Not after Artemis.”

“I said I didn’t want to date deities anymore,” corrected Arael. “She knew it was a business ordeal and when I realized she wanted more, I did us both the favor and ended it. Besides, she’s been sleeping with you during all of this. She can’t have us both,” Arael drawled.

Don’t piss me off, Luc. You know why I ended it. The same reason why you gave me the damn dog as a half-ass apology for sneaking around behind my back. What are you really trying to pull this time? It’s been a few decades since you’ve taken such a … deep interest in my personal life.

“Arael, you were sleeping with Artemis before the merger too, so why would she suspect things weren’t working in her favor. It’s not your first time fucking a goddess.” Luc snorted. “You know that didn’t help matters when you clearly…”

“I sleep with a lot of women.” Arael swung his arm out as if he could see the crowd before him of past hook-ups and relationships. “Everyone knows I have! I can’t go five feet from my front door without the neighbor-turned-paparazzi snaps a photo about my business for the Paranormal Times! Every gossip magazine now keeps track of them and interviews who I sleep with if you haven’t noticed. It’s fucking ridiculous. This arrangement was to give me a break from all that bullshit. Artemis knew that going in, hell, she was sleeping with you during the whole merger, so why would I suspect she wanted something more serious? Why did it matter if we went our separate ways now to the point of losing her shit? I thought since she was hooking up with you, she understood this was for airs, not for real.”

“Such a mortal thing, wanting to be in a monogamous relationship.” Luc’s voice dropped low, a whisper, “I didn’t realize you knew … about us from the start.”

“The moment I knew she wanted to have both of us was the moment I kicked her out,” exclaimed Arael in disbelief. “C’mon Luc, don’t fucking play dumb with me. You knew what she was doing and clearly has a desire to be playing double baller with two immensely powerful brothers. You’re not fucking oblivious to sins and ill-intent, let alone one’s desires even if it’s a goddess.”

Asshole. Neither of you tried to hide it so how could I not know! Not like you didn’t know how my powers work either, dick! I definitely didn’t need those hot thoughts from Artemis being sandwiched between us. Not that I mind a threesome, just not with any of my brothers—please.

Arael groaned, he hated having to confess, “I mean, how could I not know, Luc?” Arael pressed once more. “She may be a deity, but my powers don’t stop at the human level, neither do yours. You fucking knew.” Arael swallowed, the conversation treading on dangerous ground as silence fell between them.

“So, this doctor…” Luc changed topics this time, a familiar admission of guilt or “pleading the fifth” as mortal’s say.

No one talks about the family secrets so lightly without causing a war upon Heaven, Hell, and Earth. If Father found out what he did or worse, big bro… there would be a very uncomfortable meeting with the EDC at the very least.

“Who was it?” Luc was curious. “Surely you got her name … and number?”

“No one special that you would find worthy of noting.” Arael smiled to himself; he couldn’t resist the idea of getting closer to Dr. Isobel Shipton. “As I said, mortals are back on the menu.” Isobel’s blushing face and darting eyes were mild in comparison to the attraction he sensed from her, of her thoughts even. “She said my pecs were big.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Luc fussed. “If we’re going to talk about you, I’m going back to bed.”

“Good night then, send Artemis my regards.”

Arael stood, a wave of magic building and he recognized both balls of mana approaching fast.

 “Besides, I’m expecting company to come knocking this morning.” Arael lifted his eyebrows high, a familiar howl in the distance as he sensed Isobel Shipton’s magical presence stronger than before.

Macula’s back. She really did get ballsy after I broke her seal. What sort of power did I shake lose in Dr. Shipton? I expected her to revive the dog tomorrow but to sense them fast approaching only a few hours later… fuck. Something’s wrong.

Arael stomach twisted as chills rolled up his spine.

I fucked up. That seal…

“I hate to be the girl that has to answer your morning calls.” Luc laughed. “Good night, well, morning, I suppose. We’ll talk later.”

“Sure, night, morning, fuck off and goodbye.”

Arael smashed the red icon and dropped his cell phone on the table.

Leaning back on the couch, he stared at his front door, waiting as he tapped his fingers on the leather. Every fiber in him grew more anxious as the power pouring from both visitors were stronger than he had recalled back in the exam room. The unlocking of Dr. Shipton’s holy magic seal had planted a monstrous seed. It was continuing to grow, rapid and in an interesting way for any mortal. He had aimed for the seal removal as a means to give her more than money as a thanks and parting gift, but…

Did I underestimate exactly how much power was behind that locked door someone put on her?

 [VW1]When Arael used the word "Father" its the name "Father" of the entity that created him



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Author Valerie Willis

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