The Devil is Here (and He’s Demanding the Rent)

I

Lord of the Damned (hardly).

Rent was due.

“Fu—”

“You heard me,” Satan threatened.

“H-how far back?”

“All of it.”

Lucky swallowed hard.

“That paperwork better be in order by the end of the month or I’ll be revoking your license and giving Lorelei the position of head psychopomp until you get your shit together,” Satan said coldly.

“And I’ll get your car,” she added with a sneer.

If Lucky had a soul he swore it would have left his body.

He was absolutely screwed. Alexander Hamilton was still alive the last time he filed his paperwork.

Hell, Alexander Hamilton may have been the last form he did file.

His office was a literal war zone of disorganized chaos, and the paperwork stack had turned into a small mountain range. The task was impossible.

How did his father expect him to keep up his partying and debauchery if he was stuck in an office all day? Who would reap those unsuspecting souls if he was pushing papers? How would he torment Charlie—

A smile crept its way onto his face. He suddenly had a thought. A brilliant one. A dangerous one. He nodded in understanding and turned back toward the elevator. No one said he needed to handle the paperwork.