They say crashing a wedding is rude. I say it depends on how many demons are on the guest list.
I crouched behind a marble column, sweat trickling down my back as I adjusted the fuse on a melon-sized grenade. This wasn't just any wedding—it was a HellCorp merger ceremony, the kind where a demon CEO marries a human heiress and dooms a country to infernal management.
But I wasn't here for the cake.
I was here to blow it all to hell.
"Two minutes," I whispered into my earpiece. No response. Typical. My handler was probably dead. Or binge-watching reality TV. Either way, I was on my own.
The chapel was absurd—vaulted obsidian ceilings, fire-pit pews, a stained glass window of Beelzebub doing yoga. Guests sipped lava cocktails and gossiped about who'd sold which soul to whom.
I spotted the groom first. A six-foot-seven demonic monstrosity wearing a tux stretched over way too many limbs. He radiated power—and Axe Body Spray.
Then I saw the bride.
And my heart drop-kicked my ribcage.
Emily.
Not someone who looked like Emily. Not some demon in a glamour. No—it was her. Same hazel eyes. Same defiant chin. Same "I'll kill you if you touch my fries" energy.
She was wearing a dress that probably cost more than my life, her hands clasped tightly in front of her like she was trying not to strangle someone.
She glanced at the crowd. Her gaze swept past demons, cultists, and power-hungry lobbyists—and then it landed on me.
Her eyes widened.
Her lips parted.
She mouthed my name.
"Jax?"
I froze.
The priest—an eyeless robed ghoul with a voice like chewing gravel—continued droning, "Do you, Emily Theresa Cross, take this dark prince to be your—"
"YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME," I shouted, standing up and hurling the grenade like a baseball pitcher on meth.
Gasps. Screams. A minotaur spit out his drink.
Emily dove backward as the altar exploded, flames shooting up like a volcano on Adderall. The priest flew across the room, landing in a vat of ceremonial wine.
Demons scrambled. Someone yelled "insider trading!" A banshee wailed dramatically and fainted into a cake shaped like a pentagram.
I sprinted up the aisle, boots thudding against the charred carpet. Emily was already upright, ripping off her veil and glaring at me like she was deciding where to shoot first.
I grabbed her hand anyway.
"Hi," I said breathlessly. "You look incredible. We need to leave."
"Jax, what the HELL are you doing?!"
"Saving you?"
"I WAS UNDERCOVER!"
Another explosion rocked the chapel. A flaming candelabra collapsed next to us.
Emily yanked her arm free just long enough to punch a warlock in the throat and grab a briefcase from behind the altar. "You ruined a four-month operation!"
"Not my fault you didn't send a wedding invite."
"You idiot. RUN."
We burst through the flaming double doors just as demonic security guards swarmed the courtyard. I tossed a flash charm behind us—big boom, lots of screaming—and slid across the hood of my getaway taco truck.
Emily stared at it. "Seriously? You brought a taco truck to a black-tie apocalypse?"
"It's fast, untraceable, and I got a deal on churros."
I gunned the engine and peeled out. The tires screamed. Lava fountains exploded behind us. Someone on the steps yelled "This isn't even OPEN BAR!"
Ten miles down the road, we screeched into an abandoned parking garage, brakes squealing. I killed the engine and braced for the inevitable.
Emily slapped me.
"OW! What the hell?!"
"That's for blowing my cover. And almost killing me. And—do you even remember our last conversation?!"
"…Technically it was a voicemail."
"You called me a 'sentient chainsaw with commitment issues.'"
"You stabbed me in the thigh with a fork."
"You said my lasagna was cursed!"
"It was! It whispered to me!"
Silence.
She sat back in the passenger seat, arms folded.
I glanced at her. "So. You're not marrying him?"
She gave me a look. "No. I was posing as a human heiress infiltrating HellCorp's upper echelons to steal the summoning key to the Ninth Gate."
"Ah. Classic Tuesday."
She rubbed her temples. "I was two hours away from securing it when you kamikazed in like a lovesick grenade salesman."
"I didn't know it was you!"
"And if it wasn't?"
I shrugged. "Still would've blown it up. But with less emotional baggage."
A small laugh escaped her lips before she caught herself. "You haven't changed."
"I started wearing socks again."
"That's not character development."
"No, but it is progress."
Another pause.
Emily stared out the windshield. "Why are you even doing jobs again? Last I heard, you retired. Said you wanted 'a simple life and to learn how to make broth.'"
"My ramen shop got torched by a Yelp critic."
"Oof. Demon?"
"Food blogger."
"Brutal."
She let out a sigh. "So now you're freelance demolitions again?"
I leaned back. "Freelance soul liberator. Explosions are just the garnish."
Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know what happens now, right? They'll put a hit out on both of us. I can't go back under."
"Good. Let's take them down together."
She turned to me slowly. "You want to go after HellCorp?"
I grinned. "I already crashed their wedding. Let's crash their boardroom."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
She stared at me for a long time. Her eyes softened slightly—though with Emily, that could still mean a gut punch was coming.
Finally, she nodded. "Fine. But we do it my way."
"I'm shockingly okay with that."
"No more solo detonations."
"No promises."
"We're going to need backup."
"I'm assuming you have a hit list?"
"More like a contact list. And one of them owes me a favor."
"Let me guess. Werewolf arms dealer?"
"Close. Vampire bounty hunter. Horrible at feelings. Great with explosives."
I grinned wider. "I think we're gonna get along."
Emily rolled her eyes. "You never could resist chaos."
"And you never could resist me."
She paused.
"…Still not true."
"Yet you're still in this taco truck."
Another pause.
"I hate that I missed this stupid truck."
"I knew it!"
She smirked. "Shut up and drive, Jax."
As we pulled out of the garage and headed toward the city, the sky flashed red with another HellCorp flare—searching for us.
Somewhere deep beneath downtown, the ritual had begun again.
Demons were preparing for war.
But so were we.
And we had tacos.
End of Chapter 1