Chapter 12
I was elbow-deep in a box of kitchen supplies when the living room air shimmered and tore open like someone had taken a knife to reality itself.
“Um, Malphas?” I called, backing away from the interdimensional rip forming in front of the TV. “We have a situation!”
It was moving day—officially moving the rest of my belongings into Malphas’s house after deciding to make our living arrangement permanent. We’d spent the morning loading boxes from my now-repaired apartment, and Malphas had just gone to the garage to get more packing tape.
He appeared in the doorway, tape roll in hand. “What’s—oh.” His expression shifted from concern to annoyance. “Damn it. I forgot it was the equinox.”
“The what now?” I asked, still backing away from the widening tear in reality, which was starting to smell faintly of sulfur and something metallic.
“Quarterly report,” Malphas explained with the air of someone discussing a routine office meeting rather than a portal to what I assumed was hell opening in his living room. “My subordinates check in on the equinoxes and solstices.”
Before I could process this information, three figures stepped through the rift. The air temperature dropped several degrees, and the lights flickered ominously.
The first was a slender being with bluish skin and what appeared to be small tentacles instead of hair. The second was more humanoid but had four arms and eyes that glowed like hot coals. The third was short, stout, and covered in what looked like spines or quills.
All three wore what I can only describe as business casual from the underworld—dark suits with subtle patterns that seemed to move when you weren’t looking directly at them.
“Lord Malphas,” the tentacle-haired one intoned, bowing deeply. “We come as scheduled to deliver our quarterly reports and receive your commands.”
Then all three noticed me, frozen in place with a coffee mug still in my hand, and their otherworldly faces registered various forms of surprise.
“My lord,” the four-armed one said cautiously, “you have… a human… in your dwelling.”
“Yes, Zaebur, I’m aware,” Malphas replied dryly. He set down the tape and moved to stand beside me, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back. “This is Sam. He lives here now.”
The three demons exchanged glances loaded with meaning I couldn’t interpret.
“Lives… here?” the spiny one repeated slowly. “As your… pet?”
“As my partner,” Malphas corrected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Sam, these are my lieutenants: Ixizel, Zaebur, and Pustule.”
“Pustule?” I couldn’t help repeating, staring at the spiny demon.
“It sounds more impressive in the original demonic tongue,” Pustule muttered defensively.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I said, falling back on politeness because I had absolutely no protocol for meeting my demon boyfriend’s infernal subordinates. “Would anyone like coffee? Or, um, the blood of the innocent, or whatever you guys drink?”
Another loaded silence followed, broken finally by Ixizel’s tentacles writhing in what I hoped was amusement rather than aggression.
“Coffee would be… acceptable,” they said carefully.
“Great!” I said with forced cheerfulness. “I’ll just… go make some. You all catch up on your… hell business.”
I retreated to the kitchen, my mind racing. Malphas had mentioned his “infernal business” before, but it had remained abstract until now. Seeing his demonic subordinates in the flesh (or whatever they were made of) made his otherworldly status impossible to ignore.
As I prepared coffee with shaking hands, I could hear the murmur of voices from the living room, occasionally rising in what sounded like heated discussion. I caught fragments—something about “soul quotas” and “territorial encroachment”—but tried not to eavesdrop too obviously.
When I returned with a tray of coffee mugs, the demons were seated awkwardly on Malphas’s tasteful living room furniture. The conversation ceased abruptly as I entered.
“Coffee,” I announced unnecessarily, setting down the tray. “I, uh, wasn’t sure how you take it, so I brought cream and sugar.”
“Black as the void between stars is traditional,” Pustule informed me seriously, then ruined the effect by adding three sugar cubes to his mug.
An awkward silence fell as everyone sipped their coffee. I perched on the arm of Malphas’s chair, hyperaware of the scrutiny from his demonic employees.
“So,” I said finally, unable to bear the silence, “how long have you all worked for Malphas?”
“Work for?” Zaebur repeated, blinking all four of his eyes in sequence. “We serve Lord Malphas. Have done since the Great Sundering, when he claimed dominion over the Seventh Quadrant.”
“Right,” I nodded as if this made perfect sense. “That’s… a long time.”
“Three thousand four hundred and seventy-two years by your human reckoning,” Ixizel supplied helpfully, their tentacles curling around their coffee mug. “Though time flows differently in the lower realms.”
“Cool, cool,” I said, wondering how I’d ended up here, making small talk with demons about their employment history. “And, uh, how’s business? The soul harvesting… thing?”
All three demons looked to Malphas, who sighed. “It’s fine, Sam. They’re here for their quarterly report anyway.”
“Soul acquisition has been below projections for the third consecutive quarter,” Zaebur reported promptly, producing a scroll from somewhere within his suit. “We’ve experienced particular difficulty in the tech sector—apparently a rival principality has exclusive rights to social media executives.”
“The torment division, however, is showing robust growth,” Pustule added, sounding oddly like a mid-level manager discussing sales figures.
“Our innovative approach to ironic punishments has been very well-received. The ‘eternally searching for car keys’ initiative has been particularly effective for minor sinners.”
I glanced at Malphas, who was pinching the bridge of his nose in a very human gesture of frustration. “Can we discuss the actual numbers in private, please?” he said.
The demons looked disappointed but nodded in agreement. Ixizel’s tentacles drooped noticeably.
“Perhaps Sam could show us around the human dwelling while you review the reports,” they suggested. “It would be… educational.”
Malphas looked at me questioningly. I shrugged—giving demons a house tour seemed marginally less weird than sitting through an infernal performance review.
“Sure,” I agreed. “Though it’s a pretty standard house. Nothing special.”
“On the contrary,” Zaebur said, rising to his impressive height (still shorter than Malphas, but towering over me). “Lord Malphas’s interest in human habitation has been a subject of much curiosity in the lower circles.”
“Has it now?” I looked at Malphas, who suddenly seemed very interested in the paperwork Pustule was presenting.
“Indeed,” Ixizel confirmed. “His acquisition of lawn care equipment was discussed at the last Council of Princes. Most unusual behavior for a being of his stature.”
“I bet,” I murmured, filing away this information for later teasing. “Well, follow me, I guess. We’ll start with the kitchen.”