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“What the actual fuck does that have to do with me?” Logan demanded.

The demon clammed up and didn’t want to talk.

“I will bite your cock off,” I growled.

Because I wouldn’t just be biting off the meat suit’s dick. Hellhounds were fun like that. The demon furiously shook his head like both options were shitty.

“Why doesn’t he go back?” Solomon asked.

“Because he’s in deep shit. There have always been rules about demons coming here, but the current King of Hell rewrote the laws. Coming here without permission and causing enough of a stink to get the Church involved is a death sentence. Pan can make it quick, Sugar. You’re going to die either way. It’s up to you how hard you want to make it,” Delilah said.

That was just mean, but I guess I had been able to play with the rest of the demons and the witch. Ugh. The demon tried to make a break for it. Some of them could be so predictable. The demon flew out of the meat suit and headed straight for the priests. I had a feeling they didn’t have the same tattoos Logan did, but I also knew she wouldn’t let them in here unless they had some kind of protection.

I turned to pounce but Delilah flung out her hand and I was blinded for a minute. I shook my head. When the black spots receded from my vision, she was holding a jar with purple smoke in it. She’d told me you could tell the type of demon from the color of the smoke. This one was a Jinn.

“That’s handy,” Logan said. “What the fuck is it?”

“Witches aren’t the only ones with spell jars. I reached out to my contacts in Hell. There’s a bounty on these guys. If the Flame didn’t send them back for punishment, they were going to send a team. They aren’t going to mind Pan taking them out because they were dead, anyway.

“You can’t question him like this, but Pan and I can. Demons know about your necklaces, Padre. It’s not safe to keep this at your place unless a bunch of priests get really cool with body modification really quickly. Most of them know to attack the clasp.”

I couldn’t speak for Solomon and Saul, but Caleb pulled his shirt off to show Ariel and Sasha the hex. He was completely fine with tattoos and had several. Not as many as Logan, but a respectable amount. I didn’t know if Logan noticed since she was drooling over his abs and having an existential crisis about the kiss.

“Tattoos aren’t forbidden, it’s just preferred that they can be covered with clothing and nothing offensive. Saul and I have several.”

The giant was basically a walking green flag, but I was learning he had a bit of a past. I didn’t judge. I was forced to do much worse when I was younger. We were both using those skills for the greater good.

“I do not have any tattoos, but I have no problem with getting one if it keeps me from being possessed. Especially if they know to target the necklace.”

“Most of us have zero interest in possessing priests. The criminals among us think it’s funny. Sometimes, good demons get pissed off because you sent their spouse or child back to Hell when they didn’t do anything wrong and do it out of revenge. Might want to think about how you’d like to proceed with your life after this job, Dumpling. I’ll question the Jinn and let you know what he says.”

Yes, because that was the question. They were willing to listen and work with us. They followed Logan’s direction for this job without complaint. Did they even want to go back after this? I wasn’t raised in Hell, so I didn’t follow the demonic religion. Delilah told me about it and said some demons didn’t either, but they had their zealots too.

These men joined the priesthood because they wanted to serve their god and I could respect that.

I also wasn’t willing to be a martyr for anyone and it sounded like Bishop Henry wasn’t trying to give them a choice.

My bingo card had gotten super weird. I was now sitting in The Mad Tatter with three shirtless priests while they got sigils tattooed on them by a bunch of lesbians. They’d done all my ink. A bunch of them were Flame sigils, and some were just for funsies. Some people got one tattoo and then never got another one. Some of us kept going back for more.

Caleb and Saul had a good bit of ink under their shirts. Solomon didn’t strike me as the type to even think about getting a tattoo. Not because he judged people for them or had shitty opinions about them either way, he just didn’t want one. As soon as he had a reason to get one, he said sign me up.

Solomon was adorable. He had that sexy nerd thing going on and he was approaching the whole tattoo thing like a clinician. He asked a million questions and I could tell Phoenix loved him. Solomon wanted to know the mechanics behind the machine tattooing him.

Phoenix apprenticed at this shop straight out of high school and then eventually bought out the old owner. She had a few different machines, some she bought, and some she built. It was the cutest thing. She walked him through exactly how to build his own tattoo machine the entire time she tattooed him while he listened with rapt attention.

“And this pays well?” he asked.

“We have a shop minimum for smaller stuff, but I generally make around a hundred an hour.”

“Huh. I wanted to go to art school. I like drawing, but everyone told me I wouldn’t be able to support myself. If you did Logan’s tattoos, that’s art. It’s beautiful.”

“Sugar, you get a lot more ink and show me a portfolio and I’ll think about letting you apprentice.”

I couldn’t imagine telling my kid that. If I had told Rainer I wanted to be an artist or a dancer instead of hunting monsters, he would have made sure I knew how and how to find a way to pay my bills.

Solomon was one of those men who was good at everything he decided he wanted to be good at. I didn’t have to ask to see his portfolio to know he probably made beautiful art.

Saul was the exact opposite. Kit was tattooing him and kept mugging for the camera. Saul had two half sleeves and a chest piece, but was snapping selfies like this was his first tattoo. If I looked like him without my shirt, I’d probably take a million shirtless photos too. Kit wasn’t even into men and I’d been in here enough to know that kind of thing usually irritated her, but Saul was Saul. He could literally be singing Cotton Eyed Joe on repeat with a mouth full of food and everyone would think the sun shone out his ass.