Chapter 16
After Eden left—loaded with tea, homemade cookies, and far more information about demonic-human relationships than she’d probably anticipated—Malphas and I sat in companionable silence in the living room.
“That was interesting,” I finally said, leaning against his solid warmth on the sofa. “I’ve never been mistaken for a demonic thrall before.”
Malphas chuckled, his arm around my shoulders. “You would make a terrible thrall. Far too argumentative.”
“Hey!” I protested, then conceded, “Okay, fair point.”
We lapsed into silence again, but I could tell Malphas was thinking deeply about something. Finally, he spoke:
“What if she’s right?”
I looked up at him, confused. “About what? Me being your thrall? Because I’m definitely not—”
“No,” he interrupted. “About Gary. About me being… less than what I should be.”
I sat up straighter, turning to face him fully. “What do you mean?”
Malphas sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I am a demon prince, Sam. Commander of Forty Legions. I’ve existed for millennia as a being of power and destruction. And now I spend my days worrying about lawn care and organizing spice cabinets.”
“And that’s bad because…?” I prompted when he fell silent.
“It’s not who I was created to be,” he said quietly. “Perhaps Eden is right. Perhaps I should seek to remove Gary’s influence, return to my true nature.”
A chill ran through me at his words. “Is that what you want? To go back to being just a demon prince, no human influences?”
He didn’t answer immediately, which scared me more than an outright yes.
“I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “Sometimes I feel… divided. Like I’m neither fully demon nor fully human-influenced. Like I belong nowhere.”
The vulnerability in his admission broke my heart. I reached for his hand, entwining our fingers. “Maybe you don’t have to be one or the other. Maybe this new version of you—this blend—is exactly who you’re meant to be now.”
“A demon who grows roses and builds bookshelves?” he asked, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
“A being who can appreciate both destruction and creation,” I countered. “Who understands both power and gentleness. Who can command forty legions of the damned and also make a perfect soufflé.”
That drew a small smile from him. “When you put it that way, it sounds almost impressive.”
“It is impressive,” I insisted. “Malphas, you haven’t lost anything by gaining these new aspects. You’ve only become more complex, more complete.”
He studied our joined hands, his much larger one engulfing mine. “And if other demons see it as weakness? If my position is challenged because of these… changes?”
“Then you remind them why you’re Prince Malphas,” I said firmly. “Like you did with your lieutenants. But you don’t have to choose between being powerful and being… happy.”
The word hung between us, weighted with meaning. Malphas looked up, his eyes searching mine. “Is that what I am? Happy?”
I squeezed his hand. “Only you can answer that. But from where I’m sitting, you seem to enjoy both your demon business and your human hobbies. You seem to like having both aspects in your life.”
He was quiet for a long moment, considering my words. “When I first felt Gary’s influence,” he finally said, “it was like an intrusion. Foreign thoughts, foreign desires. I fought against it.”
“And now?” I prompted gently.
“Now it feels like… me. A different aspect of me, but still me.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Perhaps it’s not Gary anymore. Perhaps he was just the catalyst for something that was always possible.”
“Evolution,” I suggested, echoing what I’d told his lieutenants. “Not corruption or possession, but growth.”
Malphas nodded slowly. “Yes. Evolution.” His eyes met mine, clearer now. “And you? Are you truly content with this evolved version of me? Part demon, part… suburban dad?”
I laughed at his characterization. “I’m more than content. I love both parts, Malphas. The demon who can lift me effortlessly and the homeowner who color-codes the garage tools.”
I hadn’t meant to use the word “love,” but once it slipped out, I couldn’t take it back. And I realized I didn’t want to.
Malphas went very still, his eyes fixed on mine. “You love me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
No going back now. “Yes,” I admitted. “Both parts of you. All of you. I love you, Malphas.”
For a terrifying moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with a gentleness that belied his immense strength, he cupped my face in his hands.
“I have existed for eons,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I have witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, the birth and death of stars. And in all that time, I have never heard those words directed at me. Never thought I would. Never thought I could feel what I feel for you.”
My heart hammered in my chest. “And what do you feel?”
“Love,” he said simply. “A demon prince shouldn’t be capable of it. But I love you, Sam. With everything that I am—both demonic and human.”
The confession, so long hovering unspoken between us, filled the room with a warmth that had nothing to do with Malphas’s supernatural heat.
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his. “So I guess we’re keeping Gary’s influence,” I murmured.
Malphas laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I suppose we are. Though I maintain it’s evolved beyond mere influence now.”
“Into something new,” I agreed. “Something uniquely you.”
“Something uniquely us,” he corrected, pulling me closer.
His kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that gradually deepened as I melted against him. I felt the subtle shift in his energy—the balance between demon and human, power and tenderness, ancient and new.
When we separated, both slightly breathless, I saw that his eyes were that perfect blend of red and hazel that I’d come to associate with moments of perfect harmony between his dual natures.
“So,” I said, settling against him, “what now? We’ve established that you’re keeping both aspects of yourself, and that we’re in love. That’s a productive Tuesday.”
Malphas chuckled, his arm tightening around me. “Now we continue evolving, I suppose. Together.”
“I like the sound of that,” I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, both processing the emotional revelations of the day. Eventually, Malphas spoke again:
“There is one thing I’ve been considering. A project that would combine both aspects of my nature in a meaningful way.”
“Oh?” I looked up at him curiously. “What kind of project?”
“A garden,” he said, sounding slightly hesitant. “But not just any garden. One with plants from both realms—this world and the lower realms.”
I blinked, trying to picture it. “Is that… possible? Can hellish plants grow here?”
“With the right conditions and care, yes,” he confirmed. “Some are quite beautiful, despite their origins. Fireblossom, shadow ferns, brimstone lilies… they have qualities no earthly plants possess.”
The idea was both bizarre and perfectly fitting. “A demon prince’s garden,” I mused. “Bridging two worlds. I love it.”
“You do?” He looked genuinely pleased by my enthusiasm.
“Absolutely. It’s the perfect metaphor for you—bringing beauty from both realms, creating something unique.” I grinned suddenly. “Plus, it’ll really confuse the neighbors during the garden tour.”
Malphas laughed, the sound full and rich. “Alice Deleon will have theories, I’m sure.”
“Oh, she definitely will,” I agreed, imagining her excitement over otherworldly plants. “So when do we start this supernatural garden?”
“This weekend?” he suggested. “I’ll need to create a small portal to transport the seedlings, but it shouldn’t be difficult.”
I marveled at how casually he mentioned creating interdimensional portals for gardening purposes. “Sure, this weekend works. As long as you promise no man-eating plants or anything that screams at night.”
“I make no promises about the screaming,” he said solemnly. “Some lower realm flora are quite vocal during full moons.”
I stared at him, trying to determine if he was joking. His serious expression cracked into a smile, and I shoved him playfully.
“Demon humor,” I grumbled. “Still not funny.”
“You love it,” he reminded me, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“I love you,” I corrected. “Your jokes need work.”
His expression softened at my casual repetition of those three words. “I love you too,” he said, as if testing the phrase, feeling its weight and finding it good.
As the afternoon sun filtered through the windows of our shared home, I thought about how far we’d come from that first support group meeting.
From a demon struggling with suburban urges and a human recovering from possession, to…
this. Something new. Something that defied all the demonology books and support group theories.
Something that was perfectly, uniquely ours.