Chapter 15
“Sam, have you seen my pruning shears?” Malphas called from the garage, his voice tinged with the mild irritation of someone whose tools aren’t where they’re supposed to be.
I looked up from my laptop, where I was finalizing a design for a client. “Check the shed! You were trimming the roses yesterday!”
A moment of silence followed, then: “You’re right. Thank you!”
I smiled to myself, returning to my work.
Two months into officially living together, we’d fallen into a comfortable domestic routine.
I worked from home on my graphic design projects while Malphas split his time between mysterious “infernal business” and an ever-expanding list of home improvement projects.
It was disgustingly domestic, utterly bizarre, and surprisingly perfect.
The doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. I glanced at the clock—2:30 PM on a Tuesday, not our usual time for visitors.
“I’ll get it!” I called, saving my work and heading to the front door.
I opened it to find Eden from our support group standing on the porch, looking uncharacteristically nervous. She clutched her crystal pendant with one hand and a large cloth bag with the other.
“Eden!” I said, surprised. “This is unexpected. Come in.”
“Thanks, Sam,” she said, stepping inside. Her eyes darted around as if searching for something. “Is Malphas here? I need to speak with both of you.”
“He’s out back. Let me get him,” I offered, suddenly concerned by her serious demeanor. “Everything okay?”
“Not exactly,” she said cryptically. “But it will be soon.”
I went to fetch Malphas, finding him kneeling beside the rose bushes that lined our back fence, pruning shears in hand. He looked up as I approached, his expression shifting from contentment to concern as he read my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately rising to his full height.
“Eden’s here,” I explained. “She seems… intense. Says she needs to talk to both of us.”
Malphas frowned, setting aside his shears with meticulous care. “Eden from the support group? Has something happened?”
“She didn’t say. Just that it’s important.”
We returned to find Eden pacing our living room, muttering under her breath. When she saw Malphas, she squared her shoulders like someone preparing for battle.
“Malphas,” she said, her voice stronger than I expected. “I know what you are.”
Malphas and I exchanged glances. “I’ve never hidden my nature at the support group,” he said carefully. “That’s rather the point of attending.”
“Not the reverse possession,” Eden clarified, reaching into her bag. “Your true nature. What you really are.”
Oh. I moved to stand beside Malphas, instinctively protective despite the fact that he was literally a demon prince who could probably reduce our visitor to ash with a thought.
“And what am I, Eden?” Malphas asked, his voice neutral but with an underlying current of power I recognized from his interaction with his lieutenants.
Eden pulled a book from her bag—ancient-looking, bound in what I hoped wasn’t human skin. “You’re a demon,” she said simply. “A high-ranking one. I’ve been researching since I first sensed your aura at the group.”
Malphas sighed, tension leaving his shoulders. “Yes, I am. I never claimed otherwise. I merely allow humans to perceive me in a way their minds can process.”
Eden nodded vigorously. “Exactly. And I’m here to help.”
“Help with what?” I asked, confused by her excitement.
“With freeing him, of course!” She placed the book on our coffee table, opening it to a marked page. “And freeing you from his influence.”
I blinked. “I’m not under any influence.”
Eden gave me a pitying look. “Oh, Sam. That’s what all thralls say.”
“Thrall?” I repeated, offended. “I’m not a thrall. I’m his boyfriend.”
“Stockholm syndrome,” Eden nodded sagely. “Very common with demonic attachments.”
Malphas pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture I recognized as his ‘humans are exhausting’ look. “Eden, I appreciate your concern, but you’re mistaken. Sam is not under my influence, and I am not holding him against his will.”
“Of course you’d say that,” she dismissed, pulling more items from her seemingly bottomless bag: candles, herbs, a small bottle of what looked like holy water. “The demon always denies its control.”
“Eden,” I tried again, “I think you’re misunderstanding the situation. Malphas and I are in a relationship. A consensual, mutually beneficial relationship.”
“The Warkenstein Compendium clearly states that demons create illusions of consent,” she countered, arranging candles in a pattern on our coffee table. “Besides, I’m not just here for you. I’m here to free Malphas as well.”
That caught us both by surprise. “Free me?” Malphas echoed.
“From Gary,” Eden explained, as if it were obvious. “The ghost who’s possessing you. I’m going to perform a dual exorcism—free you from the demon, Sam, and free Malphas from the ghost.”
I looked at Malphas, who appeared as bewildered as I felt. “Eden,” he said carefully, “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want to be ‘freed’ from Gary’s influence.”
This stopped Eden mid-arrangement of her ritual items. “What? But he’s corrupting your demonic nature. Making you… domestic.”
“Perhaps I like being domestic,” Malphas suggested. “Perhaps Gary’s influence has shown me aspects of existence I never considered before.”
Eden looked genuinely confused. “But… you’re a demon. You’re supposed to be harvesting souls and spreading chaos, not…” she gestured vaguely around our tastefully decorated living room, “…coordinating throw pillows.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. The absurdity of the situation was just too much. Eden glared at me, which only made me laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, trying to compose myself. “It’s just… you’re trying to save a demon from being too nice.”
“It’s unnatural,” Eden insisted, though she looked less certain now. “Demons aren’t supposed to have gardens and host barbecues.”
“According to whom?” Malphas asked reasonably. “The same demonology books that claim we can’t cross running water or that we can be trapped in salt circles?”
Eden bit her lip. “Well, no, but—”
“Eden,” I interrupted, taking pity on her obvious confusion, “I think your heart’s in the right place, but this really isn’t necessary. Neither of us needs saving.”
“But the auras…” she protested weakly. “Yours is entangled with his, and his is all… muddled. It’s not normal.”
“Maybe normal isn’t always better,” I suggested. “Maybe this ‘muddled’ state is exactly what both of us need.”
Eden looked between us, her certainty visibly wavering. “You really want to stay with him? Knowing what he is?”
“Especially knowing what he is,” I confirmed. “All of what he is—demon prince and suburban homeowner.”
She turned to Malphas. “And you really want to keep Gary’s influence? Even though it makes you less… demonic?”
Malphas considered this seriously. “Gary’s influence has shown me aspects of existence I would never have discovered otherwise.
The satisfaction of growing things rather than destroying them.
The pleasure of creating a home rather than harvesting souls.
The joy of…” he glanced at me, his expression softening, “…connection.”
Something in his tone made my chest tight. Eden must have heard it too, because she sat heavily on our sofa, deflated.
“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, I see.”
“What do you see?” I asked, curious.
She looked between us again, but this time with wonder rather than concern. “Love,” she said simply. “Actual love. Between a human and a demon.” She shook her head, laughing softly. “That’s not in any of the books.”
Malphas and I exchanged glances, neither confirming nor denying her observation. We hadn’t yet used that word aloud, though it hovered in the air between us during quiet moments.
“Well,” Eden said, beginning to gather her ritual items, “this is embarrassing. I came to perform a heroic dual exorcism, and instead I’m intruding on… whatever this is.”
“An unconventional but happy relationship?” I suggested.
“Something like that,” she agreed, closing her ancient tome. “I am sorry for barging in like this. It’s just… when I realized what Malphas truly was, I thought you must be in danger.”
“The only danger Sam faces is my continual rearrangement of the kitchen cabinets,” Malphas said dryly. “Which, I maintain, is more efficient.”
I rolled my eyes. “The spices should be alphabetical, not organized by frequency of use. We’ve been over this.”
Eden watched our banter with fascination. “You really are just a normal couple,” she marveled. “Except one of you is a demon prince.”
“And the other is unreasonable about spice organization,” Malphas added, earning a playful shove from me.
“Would you like some tea, Eden?” I offered, feeling we’d moved past the whole attempted-exorcism awkwardness. “Since you’re here anyway?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “That would be nice, actually. And perhaps you could tell me more about… this.” She gestured between us. “For educational purposes, of course.”
“Of course,” Malphas agreed, amusement in his voice. “I’m sure it will make an interesting addition to your supernatural research.”
As I headed to the kitchen to prepare tea, I heard Eden ask, “So, does Gary’s influence affect… everything? Even, um, intimate matters?”
I nearly dropped the kettle.