Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ramona was making coffee when reality decided to literally knock on the door.
Felix opened the door. He yelped and dropped his phone.
Ramona heard this from the kitchen. So did everyone else. Kashvi appeared from her room, eyes wide. Posey emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush still in her mouth. Zara — who’d been sitting at the dining table — went completely still, her eyes flashing black.
“Delivery for Zara of the Temptation and Minor Inconveniences Department,” the demon announced. Their voice sounded like rocks grinding together. Like the earth opening up. Like every nightmare about monsters under the bed made audible.
They were wearing what looked like formal Hell dress uniform — deep crimson robes edged in silver, covered in symbols that hurt to look at directly.
Their skin was the color of volcanic glass, and their eyes glowed with inner fire.
Massive curved horns emerged from their temples, and when they moved, the air around them shimmered with heat.
Gerald, perched on the back of the couch, took one look and hid behind a cushion.
“Here,” Zara said, standing. Her voice was perfectly level. Corporate. Like seven-foot demons showed up at the apartment every day. “That’s me.”
The delivery demon consulted a tablet — because of course Hell had tablets — made of what looked like obsidian. “Zara. Topside assignment. Accidental summoning. Binding severance in progress.”
“Correct.”
“I have official documentation requiring your signature.” The demon reached into their robes and pulled out a scroll. It was massive, easily three feet long, and sealed with wax that was still smoking.
They unrolled it. The parchment crackled with an energy that made Ramona’s teeth ache.
The coffee maker burbled behind her, stupidly cheerful, while a seven-foot emissary of Hell stood in her hallway issuing paperwork. She wiped her hands on a dish towel that suddenly felt absurdly human. Cotton. Soap. Saturday morning.
“This is your formal extension notification,” the demon continued. “Four weeks to complete binding severance, submit weekly progress reports, maintain productivity standards. Failure to comply results in immediate forcible extraction and tribunal review.”
“Understood,” Zara said.
“Sign here, here, and initial in blood here.” The demon produced a pen — or what looked like a pen, except it was made of bone and the tip glowed red.
Felix made a small squeaking sound.
Zara took the pen. Pricked her finger without hesitation — the blood that welled up was darker than it should be, almost black — and signed three places on the parchment.
When she pressed her thumb to the final section, the blood sank into the page, the symbols around it flaring bright and then fading.
Ramona resisted the urge to lean closer for a better look.
“Acceptable.” The demon rolled up the scroll. It vanished back into their robes. “You’ll receive a copy to your inbox. Is there anything else you need to report at this time?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your work.” The demon turned to go, then paused. Looked at Ramona. Looked back at Zara. “The witch who summoned you. I assume she understands the terms?”
Ramona understood. She understood that if she failed, Hell wouldn’t just take Zara back. They would drag her in front of a tribunal. Who knew what else that might entail?
“She does,” Zara said.
“Good. Four weeks. Don’t waste them.” The demon stepped into the hallway. The door swung shut behind them.
For a moment, there was total silence.
Then Kashvi said, “What. The fuck. Was that.”
Ramona and Zara looked at each other.
“A demon? Why was there a demon?” Felix asked.
“So,” Ramona said slowly. “We need to tell you something.”
“You think?” Felix’s voice pitched higher.
“Could everyone maybe sit down?” Ramona gestured at the couch and chairs.
“I’m not sitting,” Posey said, toothbrush still clutched in her hand like a weapon. “I’m standing right here until someone explains why a demon just showed up at our apartment asking for Zara.”
Zara sighed. Sat back down at the table. “I’m a demon.”
Silence.
“You’re a what?” Kashvi said flatly.
“A demon. From Hell. Specifically from the Temptation and Minor Inconveniences Department, though I manage several divisions.” Zara’s tone was clinical.
Professional. Like she was explaining a quarterly report.
“Ramona accidentally summoned me three weeks ago. We’ve been magically bound ever since. ”
More silence.
Kashvi very carefully set her coffee mug on the counter. “I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘summoned’?”
“It was an accident,” Ramona said quickly. “I was trying to do a simple fortune and success spell and—”
“You summoned a demon,” Felix said. “With a fortune and success spell.”
“I know how it sounds—”
“Do you? Because it sounds insane.”
“It was an archaic binding variant,” Zara said. “Easy mistake to make if you’re working from incomplete medieval texts.”
Posey pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth. “You’ve been living here for three weeks. As a demon. From Hell.”
“Yes.”
“And none of us noticed.”
“I’m very good at blending in.”
“Blending in,” Kashvi repeated. “You’re a demon.”
“I mean, yes, technically.”
“What was all that about reports and work?” Kashvi threw up her hands. “What does that even mean?”
“It means Hell has a bureaucracy,” Zara said. “And I’m good at navigating it. Was good at it. Before I got summoned.”
Felix had finally picked up his phone. Was staring at it. Put it back down. “So when you said you worked remotely…”
“I meant for Hell. Yes.”
“And the paperwork that just got delivered…”
“Is my formal authorization to stay topside for four more weeks while we sever the binding.”
“The binding,” Posey said slowly. “You mean you’re… you and Ramona are—”
“Magically tethered,” Ramona confirmed. “We can’t be more than sixty-six feet apart or the magic starts hurting both of us. We’ve been working on finding a way to break it.”
“Hence the severance ritual,” Zara added. “New moon is in four weeks. That’s our window.”
Cammie walked in the front door in her running clothes, her face ashen. “You’re never going to guess what I just saw in the hallway.”
“We might have an idea,” Felix said, scrubbing his hands over his face.
“There was a demon and it ran from me,” Cammie said with confusion and wonder.
Posey sat down. Just dropped onto the couch next to Felix like her legs had given out. “I need you to start from the beginning. The very beginning. Because I feel like I just walked into the middle of a movie and I don’t know any of the plot.”
So they told them. All of them.
Ramona explained the summoning — they all remembered the exact night, but she painted a picture of the grimoire, the spell for fortune and success.
Zara explained the binding, the tether, the proximity requirement.
Together they vaguely described the past three weeks: the research, the failed ritual attempts, Hell’s deadline.
By the end, all four roommates were staring at them with varying expressions of shock, disbelief, and what might have been genuine terror.
“So you’ve just been…” Kashvi gestured vaguely. “Dealing with all of this. For three weeks. While we had no idea.”
“We didn’t want to worry anyone,” Ramona said.
“Worry?” Felix’s voice cracked. “Ramona, you’re magically bound to a demon.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so much worse than it is,” Ramona said defensively. “I mean, look at Zara. She’s not like the demon who just showed up in the hall.”
“I appreciate that,” Zara murmured.
“Does the binding hurt?” Cammie asked. She’d moved closer, her expression shifting from shock to something more analytical. “Like, physically?”
“Only if we try to separate too far,” Ramona said. “Otherwise, it’s just… there. Background presence.”
“And you have four weeks to break it or…”
“Or Hell extracts me forcibly,” Zara said. “Which would be significantly more painful for both of us. And possibly catastrophic for the surrounding magical infrastructure.”
“Catastrophic,” Posey repeated.
“The binding has been in place for three weeks. Breaking it incorrectly could cause substantial magical backlash. It could hurt Ramona.” Zara glanced toward Ramona with a frown.
Gerald emerged from behind the couch cushion. He studied Zara for a long moment, head tilted, then made a soft cooing sound and hopped onto the back of the couch near her.
“Oh, now you come out?” Felix said, reaching for Gerald. “You coward.”
“Gerald has excellent survival instincts,” Zara said seriously. “He recognized a superior predator earlier and took appropriate defensive measures. That’s wisdom, not cowardice.”
Felix blinked. “Did you just… did you just defend Gerald’s honor to me?”
“He made a tactically sound decision.”
“You really are a demon,” Kashvi said, but she was almost smiling. “Only a demon would take a pigeon that seriously.”
“Gerald is an exceptional pigeon,” Zara said.
There was a long pause.
Then Cammie stood up. “Okay. Okay. So. Ramona accidentally summoned a demon. They’re magically bound. Hell wants the demon back in four weeks. We have four weeks until the new moon ritual that might break the binding.” She looked between them. “What do you need from us?”
“What?” Ramona said.
“You’re our friends. Both of you. You clearly need help with this.” Cammie crossed her arms. “So what do you need?”
“We didn’t want to impose,” Zara said.
“You’re literally magically tethered together and Hell just sent a demon to your door,” Felix said, seeming to recover slightly. “I think we’re past ‘imposing.’ What do you need?”
Ramona looked at Zara. Zara looked at Ramona. The tether between them — invisible, but suddenly feeling very present — pulsed with something warm and complicated.
“We’re still figuring that out,” Ramona admitted. “The severance ritual is complex. We’ll need help with the preparation, the materials, probably someone to maintain the protective circle while we’re—”
“We’ll help,” Kashvi interrupted. “All of us. Just tell us what to do.”
“You’re not freaked out?” Ramona asked. “About the demon thing?”
“Oh, I’m completely freaked out,” Kashvi said. “But I’m processing. Give me, like, twenty-four hours to process, and then we’ll help.”
“I’m making pancakes,” Felix announced suddenly. “Because I don’t know what else to do and pancakes feel appropriate.”
“Do demons eat pancakes?” Posey followed Felix to the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“Do we have chocolate chips? I feel like this is a chocolate chip situation,” Felix said, rifling through cupboards.
“Definitely chocolate chips,” Cammie said. “I’m showering, though. Something about that demon gave me the creeps. The hallway one, not you, Zara. No offense.”
Zara narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything.
Kashvi remained on the couch, staring at Zara, tiny sparks flying from her fingertips in wisps of light. “You’re really from Hell.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been living here for three weeks.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re dating Ramona.”
“That’s…” Zara stared at her lap. “It was initially a premise to explain my presence here, but I’m sorry we lied to you about that.”
Ramona’s cheeks heated. This was not the time to hash out the details of what they… were, but she felt a pulse of affection and comfort through the tether.
“Okay.” Kashvi took a deep breath. “Okay. I can work with this. This is fine. Everything is fine.” She paused. “Does Hell have, like, dental insurance? Retirement plans?”
“Demons don’t need dental insurance,” Zara said. “But yes, there are retirement provisions. They’re just measured in centuries rather than years.”
“Right. Of course. Centuries.” Kashvi laughed, slightly hysterical. “Why not. Everything else is insane, why not centuries.”
Gerald made a sympathetic cooing sound and nuzzled against Zara’s arm.
“Thanks, friend,” Zara murmured. “You’re handling this better than I am.”
And just like that, the apartment settled into something resembling normal. Cammie finishing up in the bathroom. Felix making pancakes with Posey’s help. Kashvi on the couch, still processing but recovering.
Ramona stayed with Zara, watching her close her HellBerry and set it aside.
“That went better than expected,” Zara said quietly.
“They’re good people.”
“They are.” Zara looked toward the kitchen, where Posey was arguing with Felix about chocolate chip distribution. “I wasn’t expecting them to offer help.”
Ramona smiled, because she couldn’t believe it, either.
Zara’s hand found Ramona’s.
“Four weeks,” Ramona said quietly.
“Four weeks,” Zara agreed.
Four weeks to figure out how to break a binding neither of them wanted to break.
Or four weeks to figure out how to keep it without destroying everything in the process.
Either way, at least now they wouldn’t be facing it alone.
From the kitchen, Felix announced: “Pancakes are ready! Everyone to the table! And someone please tell me more about Hell’s bureaucracy because I have questions.”
Ramona groaned. Zara almost smiled.
And Gerald, brave Gerald, flew to land on the back of Zara’s chair, cooing his apparent approval of the whole chaotic situation.