The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Earthly Dramatics

Mabel woke with a strangled cry and scrambled upright in her bed, her eyes darting around the moonlit room in a frenzy. She only relaxed after ensuring there was no blood flowing from the ceiling.

"Thora wasn't kidding," Mabel fell out of bed with a yelp at Zephyrine's sudden voice. Said serpent-woman appeared above her a moment later.

"Zephyrine?" she croaked, her voice raspy. "It was a nightmare?"

"Yes, actually. I would ask how you are, but—unlike human actors on stupid shows—I know that's a stupid question."

Mabel huffed a sigh even as she let Zephyrine help her up. "Thanks, Zeph," she grumbled, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I appreciate the concern." She dropped back onto the bed, snagging her blanket and tugging it around her shoulders as though it would protect her from her own mind.

"Would you rather I ask you questions I don't mean and you don't want to hear?" Zephyrine's arms were crossed over her chest like an expectant parent.

Managing a grin at the ala's antics, Mabel shook her head, trying to push the memories of her nightmare to the back of her mind. "No, Zephyrine; I would be more concerned if you did."

Zephyrine snorted, plopping down next to Mabel on the bed and crossing her legs. "That's what I thought."

Rubbing her eyes and letting a weary sigh slip from her lips, Mabel asked the most pertinent question. "Where's Aleron?"

Zephyrine shrugged idly, stretching up one hand to fluff at her silver hair (really, for someone who hated the human realm, Zephyrine certainly loved high heels and hair dye). "He and Colby had to go deal with some warlocks. Something about them wanting to practice magic again."

Eyebrows quirked in surprise, Mabel leaned closer. Aleron was pretty open with her about things in Hell, but she often had to ask him a question first to get him talking, and she'd never asked about warlocks—all she knew was that Aleron's office was decorated with their confiscated spell books. "Warlocks can't practice magic?" That would explain why the spell books were kept under Aleron's watchful gaze, of course, but . . . "Why?"

"Warlocks have a tendency to let their magic get away from them," Zephyrine divulged casually, "I believe the previous Death limited their access to dark spell books after one of them 'accidentally' caused a major earthquake in California. Colby said they want their privileges reinstated."

"Which I'm guessing means Aleron will be pissed when he gets back," Mabel groaned, falling backwards on the bed and eyeing the ceiling fan as if it held all the answers to the many issues in her life.

"And I'm guessing he'd be even more pissed if he knew about your terrible nightmares." Zephyrine's voice was flat, as always, but Mabel knew the look on the ala's face would have been accusing.

Throwing an arm over her eyes, part of Mabel wished that Zephyrine wasn't so stinking observant all the time. "It's only happened twice now," she argued weakly, "And he hasn't been here when it does, so I just . . . I don't want him to worry."

After all, he hadn't taken her death well the last time, and he was a bit overprotective when it came to her.

Zephyrine snorted derisively. "Right. Because he doesn't worry about you constantly already. Sure. Keep lying to yourself."

"I know, I know," Mabel moved her arm just enough to eye Zephyrine sternly, "And I will tell him. When he gets back, I'll tell him, and we'll figure it out. But only once he's home."

***

Except Aleron still hadn't returned a couple days later, and Mabel was worried. Again.