V
Lucky was just glad Charlie wasn’t here to see the carnage. Hellhounds were notoriously messy eaters.
The heads barked.
The garage was mostly empty with the residents out and about enjoying their nightly debauchery, so he was able to sneak the hellhound in without much fuss.
He didn’t know why he felt like he had to, he owned the building, he made the rules so he could break them.
Perhaps it was the awkwardness of acknowledging the situation. Acknowledging his mistake.
The prince set the hellhound down and got it cleaned of the blood and guts, which was a complicated process when the beast kept trying to run to Charlie.
Its bond was a dangerous thing but would probably be more beneficial than he’d initially thought.
A dedicated hellhound meant that nothing would touch Charlie.
The moment he let the hound go, it raced over to the bed and tried to hop up but missed and flopped over onto the floor. Lucky groaned. He set the clothes on the nightstand beside the note before he picked up the dog and, with some hesitation, set it on the bed. His poor silk sheets.
The hound curled up next to the priest and set its heads on Charlie’s outstretched arm. Lucky watched with a small smile before he resigned himself to handling his next task: heading to his office.
Lucky greeted the overnight desk demon with an extra large cup of coffee from Chai Charon in his hand and a yawn on his lips.
He made his way to the elevator, wishing he’d been a little more responsible with his files as he went.
Charlie’s death file was important, he should have kept a better eye on it but he’d done what he’d always had and just tossed it into his office and forgot it existed.
As the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Lucky was met with the sight of his sister.
Lie was obviously wrapping up a night of sultry activities and moving onto her other favorite activity that was exclusive to Greed—the casinos.
The incubus beside her was lust-drunk, his little wings flapped out of sync and his face was flushed such a deep red he could have passed as a demon.
Lie wiped some smeared lipstick off her face as she shoved the tipsy male over.
The incubus fell face first onto the floor outside of the elevator, right at Lucky’s feet.
“Ew,” he said with a grimace as he stepped back.
“Why are you here?” Lie asked, fixing a slipped button on her blouse.
“Heading to my office, duh.”
“Wait, you’re actually doing your filing? You? At this hour?”
Lucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. I take my work seriously. Unlike some devils.”
Lie threw him a curious glance, her ridiculously high stilettos clacking as she went. With effortless ease, she grabbed the incubus by the belt and hoisted him up to drag him to the corner so the trash trucks could take him away like all of her used playthings.
“You’re being weird lately, you know that?” she noted.
Lucky walked into the carriage. “So I’ve been told,” he mumbled as he pressed the button for his office.
His sister’s unsure gaze was the last thing he saw before the panels slid closed.
He rolled his shoulders and set his head against the wall.
His horns made a soft sound as the tips met the metal.
The elevator lifted quickly, stopping once again at his office in a matter of seconds.
Another stack of papers slid loose when the doors opened, but Lucky stood in shock when he noticed several neat rows of boxes set up with dates on their surfaces.
The desk he’d picked up during the French Revolution sat with a radio playing quietly near the door.
The surface was spotless, and the boxes in front of it had stacks of paper inside.
It wasn’t a huge dent in the mess, but it was progress, and that odd mixture of guilt and something else swelled deep in his chest cavity.
Charlie had taken the job seriously, and he hadn’t screwed it up.
As his eyes turned to the mounds of paperwork, he realized he needed to help.
Making Charlie handle this solo would be torture, and the mortal would never get it done in time.
Somehow, subjecting him to organizing hundreds of years of filing in less than thirty days felt like a worse purgatory than sending him to the Pits.
Knowing he’d be here with the priest, keeping an eye on him and making sure he was safe, sounded like the most reasonable plan.
It would keep him safe, keep his own anxieties down, ensure he kept his job, and all would be well.
Since when had Charlie become a bigger priority than his job? Why was that the thing he was most concerned with? What the Hell was happening to him?
Lucky groaned angrily and set his coffee down. He needed to find the priest’s file, and fast.