For now though, Marcel was safe in the backseat of Beast’s car. Laurent had insisted they left the windows slightly open because he’d read about pets dying of heat inside locked vehicles. Beast wouldn’t have thought about that himself, but his husband had a point. None of them wanted their future kid to boil and periodically checked the internal temperature of the vehicle.
A loud sigh made Beast turn to Magpie, who looked beyond pitiful in his expensive shoes and hand-embroidered kaftan by some big brand Beast didn’t know. “What is it?”
Magpie leaned against Malachite, who handed him a cloth kerchief, which Magpie used to dry his damp forehead. “You might want to know this stunt of yours is working. I feel so sick.”
Beast’s mouth twitched, but he wasn’t happy about Magpie’s misery, so he stopped himself from smiling. “You sure it wasn’t one of Elliot’s sandwiches? Maybe you should go home and rest? We’ll be fine here.”
Magpie glanced to the shabby little stand where Elliot proudly created his weird concoctions. “No, I didn’t dare touch those. I suppose you’re right, I will see you later. Be sure to stop by with Marcel once all this dreadfulness is over.”
Once Magpie was off, Beast turned his attention back to the sandwich stand. Curiosity got the best of Beast when he saw Laurent discussing something with Elliot, and he moved closer to eavesdrop, wary of not being spotted.
“You cannot serve these at this event!” Laurent said, raising his voice out of nowhere.
Elliot shrugged, still working the bread over with some tar-like substance. “Why not?”
“We are promoting healthy eating. Temperance. Not… whatever this is.”
“This is a chocolate spread with squid ink. It’s 85% cacao. Very healthy.”
Laurent threw his arms into the air. “Surely not. Especially if you put peanut butter all over it! This sandwich is the very definition of excess.”
Elliot frowned. “I have the variety without palm oil!”
It was intervention time. Beast grabbed Laurent from the back and kissed the side of his head through the lush brown locks. “Just let him have his fun. Aren’t you happy he wants to be involved?” he whispered, watching Knight grab a sandwich in passing, much to Elliot’s delight. It was cute how much Elliot wanted to be of use to his man. He’d come a long way from the shitty attitude he’d first moved into the clubhouse with.
Laurent looked to his clipboard with a groan. “Fine. But this is it. Don’t make any more. And don’t give them to children.”
Elliot snorted and briefly put the side of his hand against his temple. “Aye, aye, captain.”
Beast stifled a laugh but stilled when he spotted a few dark particles surfing the breeze behind Elliot’s back. His heart briefly stopped, but he grabbed Laurent’s hand and led him toward the tree.
“It’s dropping leaves,” he whispered, walking past a barrier of apple crates until the sulphuric aroma became obvious in the air. The black bark, shiny like reptile scales, looked as solid as ever, but the flowers? Was it just him getting his hopes up, or were they wilting?
Laurent was completely still for a while, but then grasped Beast’s hand, his tense expression smoothing out into a glowing smile. “It’s working. It looks like it really is, Beast.”
Relief was unwinding knots in Beast’s body, even those he hadn’t been aware of. Logic told him he shouldn’t feel victorious as long as Baal lived within the walls of his home, but this was progress. This was a battle won, even if the war was to last much longer.
“You were right,” Beast whispered, even though he’d agreed to do what Laurent wanted only because they were momentarily out of other options.
“I know it’s only a half-measure, but until we come up with a permanent solution, this could keep us going,” Laurent said, watching the flowers that had earlier bloomed lose their petals.
Beast smirked. His gaze briefly wandered to take in all the happy people. Couples. Families. Friends. Now his life was also complete. For once, he had it all.
An odd sound took him right back to reality, and he looked past the tree, at the van where they’d stored all the fireworks. It was like the tapping of heavy rain against metal, but his heart rose into his throat when white fumes filled the cab, lit by sparks. He pushed Laurent back, stiffening like a wall between his husband and danger when the van blew out the smoke through the tiniest gaps around doors and windows. The white, thick cloud soon rose into the air like a distress beacon, and the sparks erupted both inside and out of the vehicle.
The music died, replaced by cries of terror that turned into screaming when the van shot into the air, landed on its hood, only to roll to its side, overcome by a paroxysm of explosions and flames.