Betrayal in Elysium [malexmale]

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The next day was full of excitement and people running around.

Servants were running everywhere, and a few of them I didn't even recognize, which means Malachi had hired some over night or something when I wasn't paying attention. Most of them were doing things fast, to get things over with. They were probably planning Dorean's birthday party. And knowing Dorean, he had no idea what was going on, despite the ruckus. He was a little slow.

Very slow.

I left Jahlia in my room again after she made a huge deal about being trapped there like a prisoner, but I just conjured her more movies and cheetos and she stopped arguing after a while. I didn't like keeping her locked up like that, but she needed to be safe. Once I was sure Cain would move onto something else temporarily, I would let her go back to her life and probably never contact her again.

I couldn't risk it. I didn't want Cain to kill her. Jahlia had become the sister I never had. It was weird.

"Son of a bitch," Malachi snapped in frustration as I stood in the corner of his office, watching him scribble paperwork, "Why is he charging me so much for the cake? He didn't charge that much for my cake." I gave him a droll stare, folding my arms over my chest and leaning back on the wall.

"You're asking a famous baker to bake a cake for an imp, Malachi. It's gonna make him look bad." I added with a shrug, making Malachi pin me with a fierce glare before he turned it down at the paperwork. He scribbled a few things, then threw the paper at me, making me scowl as I caught it.

"Tell him I'm not paying for it," Malachi said angrily, "And you can tell him to take his business elsewhere. I won't have a racist in my town." I rolled my eyes and threw the paper back at him, leaning on his desk as he shot me a dirty look.

"Don't be stupid," I replied flatly, "You can't do that. People have their own opinions. It's called free will, broski, get used to it. If you really want to throw an imp a party, you have to be prepared for the fact that not everyone is an open-minded hippie like your Titan." Malachi pinned me with a withering glare, tightening his grip on his pencil so that it snapped in half.

"Watch your mouth." He warned. I shrugged, holding my hands up in surrender and taking a step back.

"Hey, I'm giving you advice for once," I responded dryly, "You can't impose your will on people. They're gonna get pissy and start complaining and guess who they're gonna treat like shit for it? Uhm, me, yeah, that's who. And eventually that complaining will reach Hades, then he'll come down here, beat the shit out of both of us, then go back to brooding until Persephone comes back. Don't do anything stupid. We have more important things to worry about anyway." Malachi frowned at that, dropping the pieces of his busted pencil in the garbage, nodding grimly.

"You're right," He muttered, then sat back with a frustrated sigh and ran his hands over his face, "Gods, what I wouldn't give for this to just all go away. Is it too much to ask for a break? If we can ever get the Titans beaten back into submission, I'm taking a vacation. A long vacation. To somewhere really far away."

"I hear Venus is nice this year."

"The goddess or the planet?"

"Both." I responded. Malachi smirked at that. I was relieved to see him look less tense and scowly. I swear, he'd be one of the first gods with stress wrinkles if he didn't chillax for a second or two. Of course, considering our lives were at risk, I wouldn't wanna break either.

The air rippled with power and we turned to see Adrian appear in the room. Adrian with his pretty blonde hair swept back from a very young, attractive face. He was boyish in appearance, but he'd gotten bigger since he first came. Bigger, as in, his muscles were coming in as he eased out of his teenage years and into his twenties. Today, he wore a loose pale blue silk shirt that reached his elbows with a very low collar, so the sleeves were sliding off his shoulders. A pair of white jeans with silver seams finished off his attire.