Chapter 1 Perfectionist Human
PERFECTIONIST HUMAN
Rosalind
Rosalind closed the door behind her, pressing her back to the wood as she blinked into the light of the room.
Magic demonlight, flickering in sconces across the walls of the small office she’d commandeered for the last…
who even knew how many days it had been.
Probably just three, but when she was running on constant tea refills, sprints up and down hallways between meetings, and pure adrenaline with little sleep, it was hard to keep track.
She swallowed the desire to sink to the floor and curl into a ball. There were too many things left to do, papers to finalize, demons to talk to, and finances to get sorted.
Her legs dragged as she made her way to the desk against the opposite wall, slapping Kalypso’s file atop the surface before dropping into her seat.
Katarina’s contract was still open, though she could now file that one alongside Brioni’s.
Alamar did have the opening at the post, and considering getting Kat to talk was harder than getting a dog to pee in the middle of the night in freezing temperatures, a position with the most bubbly woman Rose had ever met could be a good balance.
Rosalind slumped in the chair, rubbing her eyes before she reached blindly for her tea. Cold and nearly empty, which was probably a sign she really should be wrapping up. But there were still so many threads left to tie off, and if she couldn’t help the other humans here, what good was she?
Kat’s file was put atop Brioni’s. All the proper signatures in the right places.
Contracts ensuring safeties, with an addendum Rose was already crafting in her mind about transfers should something fall through.
That was just another headache brewing behind her left eye when she considered her own contract with Argeth, the Horn of Culture.
Sometimes she wondered if his enthusiasm for this initiative was only to make himself look good, because he wasn’t still here going over sponsorships.
Then again, she was under no illusions that any of these demons truly cared about the humans’ well-being.
Except for Kizros, perhaps. She flipped through that one next, pausing at Aofe’s interview. The script slanted—smudged and wobbly—but was still legible and had an attention to detail Rosalind admired.
Kiz would care. She’d seen firsthand how attentive and kind he’d been when adjusting her own rune cuff, making sure it wasn’t too tight and that she didn’t have any adverse side effects.
Maybe his over-attentiveness would provide some much-needed brightness for the blue-haired human who looked like she’d never asked for help in her life.
Sounded familiar.
Kalypso’s signature was still fresh, and though she hadn’t technically signed the contract—just aggressively stabbed the lines with her quill—it was official in the demons’ eyes.
Rosalind would draft a new one for the woman once Balran determined the sorcery was clear of the large human’s system, just to make sure, but she imagined that sponsorship might be the most troublesome.
That, or Ember’s.
She glanced at the last file, no signatures required when the demons had decided her fate already. Rosalind had at least organized protection, but that came in the form of a giant red demon warrior who perhaps regretted saving the humans out in the Dreadmoor.
Guilt gnawed at Rosalind’s insides. She’d not seen Ember since the trial, though there were flashes of the woman in her foggy memories between then and now. Glimpses of the tiny human limp in the slaver’s cart, weak and unresponsive like the rest of them.
But there were memories of before. Of Rosalind visiting that dank cell in Ankerick and nearly retching at the conditions Ember had been kept in. Of the brand stark against the woman’s skin. Of her dull, defeated posture as Rosalind fought against a judge who refused to listen.
It was Rose’s fault. If she had just gotten there sooner, refused to entertain her parents’ concerns before accepting the case, fought harder…
She’d not done enough here, either. It didn’t matter how hard she’d worked on these contracts, set up better lives for the other women, argued with politicians. Nothing would make up for the guilt.
Because she wasn’t like them, was she?
The sisters who fled abuse and relied on one another to survive since childhood.
The woman who spent her lifetime in a different form of slavery than what they’d been stolen for.
The bouncy redhead—a crime family’s outcast—or the blue-haired sweetheart who has to fight every day just to make it out of bed.
Not Rosalind. She’d woken up with the sunshine, with a loving family, with food and money to take care of any needs and quite a few luxuries. That money had provided an education, which had led her to law, which had taught her how to use her voice.
Her mother had always spoken about her pure heart. Even when Rosalind thought it broken for the way it liked to play tricks with her mind, or vice versa, her family had always talked about it like a gift.
At least she could give away that gift. She might be an outsider among the women, just as she was an outsider with the demons, but she could do something with her mind and heart and feel as if she could protect someone after failing Ember.
“Oh, you look like shit.”
Rosalind jolted at the new voice, spine stiffening until she realized who stood at the door. “Mozke, you startled me.”
They cocked a brow, the silver piercing glinting against their pale blue skin. Today they wore a suit jacket that barely fell to their ribs, purple pants flaring at the knees. “I knocked. Like, five times.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “You probably knocked once.”
“Let’s say thrice, just because it’s fun to say that word,” they purred, flitting in with a grace Rosalind was still getting used to from giant demons with tails and horns.
The jewelry stuck through their wavy horns clinked softly as they sat across from her, draping their long limbs over the arms of a chair in a way that could not be comfortable. “Why are you still here?”
Rosalind waved them off, tucking Ember’s file away and moving on to the financial sheets. “Too many things to do.”
She could feel Mozke’s dark eyes follow her. “Where’d you sleep?”
That she couldn’t answer because she wasn’t sure she had slept. “One of the infirmary beds.”
“Humans are such terrible liars. You know I can hear your heartbeat spike.” They hummed, then stood. A blue hand decorated in rings and dark purple nails appeared in front of her. “Come on.”
Rosalind’s arms spread over the desk protectively. “No, wait.”
Mozke rolled their eyes. “You fooled me yesterday with that one. Not again. Time to move in.”
She whimpered, fingers curling over the stacks of paper. “But, but—”
“Little human, do not make me throw you over my shoulder. It’s not my style, but I will do it.”
Rosalind groaned as Mozke turned, confident that she would follow after their threat. But maybe—
“You bring work into my apartment, there’s a rune that will turn it to ash upon entry.”
Rosalind’s eyes widened as she scrambled around the desk, giving her files one last look of longing before chasing after the blue demon. “You’re a member of the council. You can’t just… burn work. Those are important documents!”
“Then don’t bring them home. Simple. Work happens at work.”
Mozke turned the corner much more gracefully than Rosalind, though the faster she moved to keep up with the long-legged demon, the more she realized that she’d been neglecting food as well as sleep. And exercise.
“I’ve known you for…” Rosalind paused, partly because she didn’t know how long it had been since she’d met them, and partially because she might never get used to stepping outside into the demon realm.
Her inhale was deep, taking in the smell of petrichor.
The rain must have been quick but she admired the way the demonlights reflected off puddles across the cobblestone paths.
The center of the square hosted the Aldgate Scar, the remainder of the sorcery that had first summoned the demons to this realm.
The moon had set, leaving a dizzying pattern of stars and constellations packed into the sky and providing illumination at night. A strange phenomenon Rosalind might never adjust to—the concept of a daymoon instead of a sun and a moonless night.
Mozke groaned dramatically. “Gods, Rosalind, two days. And you’ve been in Heck for three. Do not make me lock you in your room just so you’ll finally take a breath of air that doesn’t smell like infirmary or paper.”
“How does it glow?”
They paused, shoulders softening when they noticed her attention on the sky. “What do you mean?”
“The moon. How does it glow?”
Mozke cocked their head. “The sun?”
“You don’t have a sun.”
They shrugged. “But you do. Well, the human realm does. Sort of like…” Their hands formed what looked like a sphere.
“This is your realm, and then we are in this small little space.” They wiggled a finger randomly into their invisible diagram, then started squishing and smashing their hands together.
“It’s like sorcery fucked up and dragged elements of our world into this one and poisoned it and they all sort of meshed and had a baby—”
Rosalind grimaced. “Gods, Mozke, that’s gross.”
“Basically, your sun does reflect off its surface. But the weird magic and shit that keeps our worlds somewhat separated makes it so we don’t see the sun. Just our moon and stars.”
“That was so much easier to say,” Rose said with a chuckle.
Mozke shot her a teasing smirk. “You know, you could leave your office for an hour and actually see the place you now reside. No one is keeping track of your hours.”