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He had a feeling he already knew what the outcome would be, but he was tired as hell and looking forward to washing his hands clean of this piss-poor day.

“All in favor of working with the MPU to take down the arms dealers,” Darien said, “raise your hand.”

Hands went up. Slowly. Five hands, followed by his own, which meant his sister was the only person voting no.

Bandit, who had moved from the couch to the armchair in the sitting room, his shadowy body sandwiched between Singer and Twitch—Jack’s Familiar—side-eyed Darien.

You’re about to get the biggest earful, the Familiar said, his words all for Darien. As a spirit with a special connection to only one person, Bandit had the ability to switch between making his voice hearable by just Darien or by everyone else in the room too. Bandit continued, And you know what I’m going to do?

Bandit, can you not? Darien replied. This isn’t the time.

The spirit ignored his request. I’m going to laugh my ass off, that’s what I’m going to do. If it were possible for canines to laugh, Darien swore Bandit would’ve already been laughing. Instead, he blew out a huffing sound through his chops, black belly heaving with amusement.

Darien rolled his eyes and looked at Tanner. “Atlas, you’ve been quiet, yet you’re still voting yes. Fill me in on your thoughts.”

Tanner lowered his hand to the table, his other moving to fiddle with the circuit board bracelet he always wore. “It all comes down to jailtime,” he said. The others lowered their hands as well. “I’d rather cooperate with the MPU than wait for them to come after us and potentially spend the rest of my life behind bars. I think we can all agree that we’ve each committed enough crimes that we wouldn’t win in court, especially not against the MPU.”

Darkslaying had always come with its risks, but there was a delicate balance of crime and order that had kept people like Darien and his Devils safe from the threat of spending much time, if any time at all, behind bars. For years now, Angelthene’s MPU had been more than a little accepting of Darkslayer activity in the city. Other areas in the world weren’t as lucky as this one, with peace officers and Darkslayers going head to head on a regular basis, their squabbles usually resulting in jailtime that didn’t always stick, but when it did, it was like glue. And sometimes, jailtime was the easier outcome. Other times, a lot of blood was shed, most of it innocent and avoidable if both groups had simply left well enough alone.

But with this new Head Detective in town… It sounded like things might change, and quickly. In ways that most of his family members weren’t willing to find out about, and he couldn’t really blame them.

There was always the option of leaving the city and moving somewhere new, but…they’d built their lives here. The Seven Devils title was a part of who they were, and it was rooted in Angelthene.

Darien nodded slowly. “Anyone got anything to add to that, or are you all feeling the same way?”

“Same way,” Lace said. “I didn’t come this far to spend my life in a cell.” Travis, Max, and Jack murmured their agreements. “And never mind being stuck behind bars forever, we wouldn’t even last that long apart. The people in there, they would…they would…” Darien saw her throat visibly bob.

“Kill us,” Max finished in a tight voice, staring at the table. It wasn’t an unrealistic fear. Out here, they were kings. In there…in there, nothing could protect them, and their magic would be nullified by the spells coating the walls. Most people who were sentenced to serve time in those prisons never made it out again, even if they didn’t get the death penalty. Death found a way of claiming them anyway.

“Ivy,” Darien prompted, taking care to keep his tone soft. His sister’s eyes flicked unwillingly to his. “Let’s hear it.”

“You already know I’m pissed off.”

“I can see that, yes. But it would help if you would talk to me.”

Ivy chewed her lip. Darien waited, giving her the time she needed to gather her thoughts and assemble her words.

Finally, she spoke. “The last thing I want is for you to assume Randal’s role,” Ivy began. “This is dangerous, Darien. Randal was dangerous, and none of us really know the extent of his dealings. Besides that, you know how the other circles are going to feel if you suddenly step out of nowhere and take his crown.”

Travis, who was using a knife to clean under his nails, cut in. “He wouldn’t really be taking anything that doesn’t already belong to him. It’s automatically assumed by all circles that Darien should rise in rank with Randal’s death, and even if Darien wasn’t his kid, it still would’ve happened that way.” He was right, of course. Darien and his Devils were at the top of the Darkslaying pecking order, so unless Darien decided he didn’t want the title, it was his by default.

“Not much will change, Ivy.” It was Jack who spoke now. He reached over and took Ivy’s hand into his. “I mean, once we get the weapons dealers out of the way, life will return to normal.” He allowed for a pause, lips twitching. “Aside from the fact that we’ll be collecting a shit-ton more money.” He barked a laugh that Travis and Max were soon echoing.

Ivy yanked her fingers out of Jack’s grip. “How very nice of you to take my side, hubs,” she hissed. She planted her palm on his face and shoved him away.

Jack looked wounded. “What did I do?”

“Always the wrong thing, that’s what.” Max laughed.

“This is why I’m never getting married,” Travis mumbled.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Darien interjected. “Let’s stay on topic, shall we?” He eyed Ivy. “The vote needs unanimous approval from every one of us. Are you voting against this?”

Ivy nodded. “I am definitely voting against this.” He had no idea what she saw on his face, but her gaze softened. “I don’t want to watch you spiral into the same chaos Randal lost himself in, Darien.”

“You say that like I’m going to let it happen.”

“Power is a sickness. Whether or not it corrupts you is not always in your control.”