Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The HellBerry buzzed in Zara’s hand — a sound like wind chimes made of bone, discordant and wrong in a way that made Ramona’s teeth ache.
“That’s them,” Zara said. Hell was calling. Zara had sent a message to her supervisor just fifteen minutes before, explaining the extension Earth-side given their unsuccessful severance ritual.
She was standing in the middle of Ramona’s bedroom, perfectly still.
She’d glamoured one of Ramona’s plain black T-shirts to look like a proper button-down — the illusion was flawless, all crisp lines and corporate polish, though Ramona could see the slight shimmer at the edges if she looked closely enough.
Her short dark hair was slicked back as much as the length would allow, revealing the sharp angles of her face.
She looked every inch the corporate demon Ramona had first summoned.
Well. Almost.
A dark tail swished behind her, reminding Ramona of a cat.
“Do you want me to leave?” Ramona asked from her position on the bed, where she’d been pretending to read the same page of Advanced Runic Syntax for the past twenty minutes.
“No.” Zara’s voice was flat. “Stay. Just… don’t talk. They can’t see you if I keep the camera angled this way.”
The HellBerry buzzed again. Insistent.
Zara sat down at Ramona’s desk, positioning the device carefully. The screen grew in size, resembling more of a tablet. Ramona was impressed with the cleverness of the magic, letting herself stare for a moment as Zara’s dark nail swiped on the HellBerry to accept.
The screen filled with a face that made Ramona cover a gasp with her hand.
The demon on the other end was beautiful in the way a knife was beautiful — sharp angles and deadly precision.
Their skin had a faint gray cast, like stone, and their eyes were solid black with no visible iris or pupil.
They wore a suit in deep burgundy, and their hair was slicked back so tightly it looked painful.
“Azareth.” The demon’s voice was smooth. Pleasant, even. “It’s been too long.”
“Theron.” Zara’s tone matched theirs perfectly — professional, courteous, empty. “Thank you for making time.”
Ramona tried very hard not to move. Not to breathe too loudly. From her angle on the bed, she could see both the HellBerry screen and Zara’s face in profile. Zara’s expression hadn’t changed. Corporate. Controlled. Nothing like the demon she’d come to know. She watched in awe and curiosity.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” Theron leaned back in their chair — Ramona could see what looked like a sleek office behind them, all dark metal and glowing screens. “You’ve been topside for three weeks now. Your reports have been… surprisingly thorough, actually. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.”
“Which makes this situation all the more puzzling.” Theron tapped something on their desk. “You were supposed to sever the binding within three weeks. Standard protocol for accidental summons. Yet here we are, and you’re still… tethered.”
Ramona’s hands clenched in her blanket. She kept her eyes on her book.
“The binding proved more complex than anticipated,” Zara said smoothly. “The witch who summoned me used an archaic variant. I’ve been researching the proper severance method.”
“For three weeks.”
“It’s a delicate process. Rushing could result in magical backlash for both parties.”
Theron studied Zara through the screen. Ramona couldn’t read their expression. She wasn’t sure demons even had expressions in the way humans did — or maybe Theron was just that good at hiding them.
“I see,” Theron said finally. “And this… research. It’s been productive?”
“Very. I’ve identified three potential severance rituals. I’m currently testing their compatibility with the specific binding structure.”
“Fascinating.” Theron’s tone didn’t change. “And the witch? She’s cooperating?”
“Fully. She’s as eager to resolve this as I am.”
A lie. Or was it? Technically, they’d both agreed that neither of them wanted it to work the first time, so Zara’s careful wording was clever. Ramona watched the quick swish of her tail as she said it.
“Good,” Theron said. “Because I’m authorized to extend your timeline. Four weeks will be the new moon. That should be sufficient to sever even a complex binding.”
Four weeks.
Ramona’s chest felt tight. She knew. Deep down, of course she knew that Zara didn’t belong here, that Zara was a demon who belonged in Hell, but four weeks didn’t seem like a long enough time.
Whatever had happened in the Bluebell Suite — and once in the car and twice since they’d been back in Ramona’s room — it had an end date. A definitive expiration.
“That’s generous,” Zara said. “I appreciate the flexibility.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Theron leaned forward. “There are conditions. You’ll need to submit weekly progress reports. Detailed ones. And you’ll be working remotely for the duration.”
“Remotely?”
“Your productivity has been excellent, Azareth. Better than it’s been in years, if I’m being honest.” Theron’s expression shifted slightly — was that approval?
“Whatever you’re doing up there, it’s working.
Your reports are thorough, your analysis is sharp, you’re actually completing projects ahead of schedule. The department heads have noticed.”
Zara said nothing. Ramona watched her profile, saw the tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“So we’re willing to accommodate,” Theron continued. “Keep up the quality of work you’ve been producing, submit your severance progress reports, and we’ll handle everything else from this end. You can work from…” They glanced at something off-screen. “Wherever you are now.”
“That’s… unexpected.”
“Hell adapts. You know that. If remote work maintains productivity, we’ll implement it.” Theron’s fingers drummed on their desk — the first casual gesture Ramona had seen from them. “Between you and me? Your numbers are making my entire division look good. I’d be an idiot to disrupt that. However…”
Something flickered across Zara’s face. Too fast for Ramona to read.
“Because this is an unsanctioned summoning, you will begin to feel the effects of being away from Hell.”
“Such as?”
“Your soul is bound to Hell. Contractually. And a requirement of that contract is residence. The side effects may be minimal but will likely present as physical. Please be aware of said effects around the mortals. Their demographic has not enjoyed such displays in the past,” Theron explained.
Zara nodded, her face looking paler for a moment. The spiked tip of her tail lay still on the ground.
“Now,” Theron said briskly. “Let’s discuss the severance itself. Have you considered the tether-dissolution method? It’s standard for proximity bindings.”
“I have. I’m currently conducting a comprehensive analysis of the binding’s foundational architecture to ensure optimal dissolution parameters.
” Zara’s voice shifted into something Ramona had never heard before — completely detached.
She could hardly even parse out the meaning of Zara’s words.
“There are several variables that require systematic evaluation before we can proceed with implementation.”
Ramona blinked. What?
“Variables,” Theron repeated.
“The binding structure demonstrates anomalous characteristics that fall outside standard taxonomic classifications. I’m developing a customized severance framework that accounts for these irregularities while maintaining appropriate risk mitigation protocols.”
Theron looked slightly glazed. “Right. And these… irregularities. Are they going to impact the timeline?”
“I’m optimizing the assessment process to ensure minimal timeline deviation while maintaining comprehensive evaluation standards.
” Zara’s tone was absolutely deadpan. “My current projections indicate severance readiness within the established four-week parameter, pending completion of the diagnostic phase and subsequent validation of the remediation strategy.”
Ramona had spent years of her life dedicated to translation, to unwinding the twisted meaning from complicated phrasing, and even that wasn’t enough to figure out what Zara meant.
Theron rubbed their temple. “Azareth, can you deliver?”
Zara nodded, but Ramona could see her jaw was clenched.
Theron made a note. “Fine. And I’ll need confirmation in your weekly reports that you’re making progress on this…” They paused, clearly searching for the right word. “Diagnostic phase.”
“Understood. I’ll include comprehensive status updates on all relevant evaluation metrics in my progress documentation.”
Which Ramona was pretty sure meant I’ll make something up.
“Good.” Theron pulled up something on their screen. “I’m sending you specifications for the Gregorian Severance ritual. It’s designed for complex bindings. The new moon is in four weeks — that’s your optimal window.”
The HellBerry buzzed softly. A file transfer notification.
“This specific ritual takes about six hours,” Theron continued. “Start to finish. Should handle most binding complications. We’ve often used it for contracted summons that need early termination.”
“This is helpful,” Zara said. “Thank you.”
“One more thing.” Theron’s expression shifted. Concern? Annoyance? “Prolonged bindings can develop sympathetic resonance. Especially if you’ve been in close quarters for three weeks. When you sever it, expect emotional backlash for both parties.”
“Backlash?”
“Grief, usually. Sense of loss. The binding creates artificial intimacy. When you break it, there’s a withdrawal period. A few days of feeling unmoored, disconnected. It passes.”
Zara’s hand on the desk curled into a fist. The glamour flickered for just a second — Ramona caught a glimpse of her plain black T-shirt before the illusion snapped back into place.
“I’ll… prepare accordingly.”
“Good. Make sure the witch understands what to expect. Last thing we need is a distraught mortal filing complaints to management.” Theron smiled — the expression was sharp and brief. “Weekly reports, Azareth. Don’t make me chase you.”
“Understood.”
Theron’s voice softened fractionally. “Whatever you’re doing up there — keep doing it. I haven’t seen you this engaged in decades. It’s good to have you back.”
Zara’s expression didn’t change. “Thank you.”
The call ended. The HellBerry screen went dark.
Zara sat there, perfectly still, as the device on the desk shrank back to the standard handheld size The glamour dissolved slowly, revealing Ramona’s slightly oversized T-shirt underneath.
Ramona counted to ten before she spoke.
“So,” she said carefully. “Comprehensive analysis of foundational architecture?”
Zara’s shoulders tensed.
“Anomalous characteristics falling outside standard taxonomic classifications?” Ramona continued, trying very hard not to smile. “Optimizing the assessment process?”
“I had to say something.”
“That was the most impressive pile of corporate bullshit I’ve ever heard.” Ramona set her book aside. “What does any of that actually mean?”
“It means I’m working on it and they should stop asking questions.” Zara finally turned around. Her eyes were shifting between honey and black. “Did it work?”
“Theron looked like they wanted to die halfway through your second sentence. So yes, I’d say it worked.”
Zara’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
“Four weeks,” Ramona said quietly.
“Four weeks.” Zara’s voice was hollow.
“And you have to submit progress reports on breaking the binding.”
“Weekly reports. Yes.”
Ramona studied her. There was something in Zara’s expression — something careful and guarded that hadn’t been there before the call.
“That wasn’t what I expected,” Ramona said.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Yelling? Threats? Demands that you return immediately?” Ramona gestured at the HellBerry. “That was… polite. Professional. They’re letting you work remotely. They praised you.”
“Hell rewards productivity.” Zara’s tone was flat. Corporate. The voice she’d used during the call. “As long as I’m useful, they’ll accommodate me.”
“But they seemed… I don’t know. Nice? Is that the right word?”
“Theron isn’t nice. They’re efficient. There’s a difference.”
Ramona nodded. “Makes sense. You know, I didn’t realize you were sending in reports all this time.”
“Mostly while you slept and I’d finished all the books,” Zara said with a shrug.
Ramona eyed Zara. “Seeing you be all corporate demon was very…”
Zara’s eyes darkened and she moved, climbing onto the bed. “Terrifying? Bloodcurdling? Horrific?”
Ramona grinned, wrapping her arms around Zara’s neck and tugging her down until their lips were brushing. “Hot.”