Chapter Nine
DEVLIN
Out in front of the store, I crack open two Fireball shots and pass one to Finn, sharing the details on the summoning.
“What about your father?” he asks. “Did you tell her about—”
“No, and there’s no need. I can continue the work here under the guise of my influencer career.”
Finn looks at me as if I’ve completely lost the plot, which… fair enough. “How do you see this working out, Dev? Logistically speaking?”
“Easy. I find a place to host a few gatherings—tea shop, after hours, perhaps—and home in on the most corruptible souls in town.”
“Don’t hold your breath, mate. This town is straight out of the Hallmark Channel handbook. Literally. I recognize it from that fall rom-com we watched last year—what was it called? Halloween Homecoming or some such? Wait, no. That was that the college football porno with the cheerleaders dressed up like slutty goblins and—”
“Setting aside for the moment your exquisite taste in films…” I down another Fireball shot, then move on to the butterscotch schnapps, equally terrible but doing its part in keeping my buzz alive. “We need to figure it out. According to her sister, who seems to know a good deal about summoning spells and dark magic, the witch and I are bound.”
“Bound? What does that mean?”
“We can’t leave this town. Or, for that matter…” I take several steps into the street. Hit the wall, nearly stumbling with the force of it. “Each other.”
“For how long?”
“Until—and I quote—I unlock her heart’s truest desire.”
“Sorry, mate,” Finn says, clearly not sorry, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “But that sounds suspiciously Hallmarky. I can already see the trailer.”
“Don’t. For the love of hellfire, do not do the movie announcer voice—”
“In a world where magic is real and dreams really do come true—”
“I’m serious, Finn. Quit while you’re—”
“One witch has a dream bigger than all the rest.”
“Are you always this obstinate?”
“A burning desire that can only be unlocked by a Prince.”
“You’ve missed your calling. Truly.”
“But it’s not Prince Charming riding to her rescue this time. It’s… dun dun dun! The Prince of Darkness himself.” Finn doubles over, and it’s almost enough to make me laugh, too.
Almost. If it weren’t so damned close to the inconvenient truth.
Fucking Hell, what a mess.
“What does the witch desire, anyway?” he asks.
“The usual. Money.” I tighten the tie on my smoking jacket, for all that it helps. Hell of a nip in the air, and it’s biting relentlessly on my backside. “She’s trying to bail out her tea shop—place just a few doors down. Sinking ship.”
“Why is it your ship to fix? We’ve got more important things to do than clean up some flighty witch’s bad credit.”
“She’s not flighty, Finn. Just in a bind. It happens.”
He watches me a beat, eyebrows raised, and I realize how oddly defensive I sound. How defensive I feel when I think of her standing behind her tea counter, curly hair tied back, glasses sliding down her nose as she mixes up her brews, trying to make an honest go of things.
“As I said, I don’t have a choice,” I rush to add. “The magic has bound us together until the task is complete.”
“Which will be when, exactly?”
“However long it takes. Although, she’s only got a month before she’s evicted from the storefront, so… less than that, I suppose.”
“A month? Fuck me, Dev. No, that’s not an invitation.”
“Fuck yourself, Finn. That is an invitation.”
“I’m serious. A month is about how long we’ve got left to lock in those last five hundred souls. Fail that, and we’re all smoked.”
My heart drops into my gut as the truth of his words sinks in.
A thousand years—that’s all my father gave me. One millennium to sign over one million souls, or kiss the throne, my home, and my immortality goodbye, cursed to live out the last of my measly years as a powerless mortal, subject to the whims of an angry, vengeful god until I take my last breath.
For their unwavering loyalty, all the demons who chose to accompany me to the human realm—Finn and the twelve additional demons currently serving as my staff in Los Angeles—are cursed to the same fate.
If the task sounds impossible, that’s because it is. Or should have been, anyway. In all his infinite, Godly wisdom, the old man never expected me to accomplish it. Just used it as a way to profit off my ineptitude—kind of his M.O.
But he severely underestimated me and my demon companions. Sure, none of us believed we could do it—not at first. But now that we’re close, I can see it in their eyes. In Finn’s eyes. The hope they kept hidden for centuries, finally sparking back to life.
“I suppose we’ll need to cancel tomorrow’s festivities,” he says, the flame in his eyes guttering as the reality of my predicament settles in.
“No. Nothing changes on that front.” I down another shot, my mind churning with new plans. I will not leave them to further suffering at my father’s hands. Not while we’ve still got a fighting chance. “Can you keep up appearances? Act the happy host, play up my absence as some sort of… traveling publicity stunt?”
“I can try, but we still need someone to recruit the guests. Boots on the ground, so to speak.”
“Put Azazel in charge of that.”
“Azazel is a vacuous twat.”
“A well-connected vacuous twat, which is precisely what we need.”
The demon Azazel isn’t one of ours, but we’ve been running in the same circles for centuries. He’s currently serving as a movie producer—lives in the neighborhood, loves popping by to partake in our intimate gatherings, always good for a favor or two.
And yes, you’ve definitely heard of him.
“Fine,” Finn grumbles. “But now you’re going to owe me favors. Lots of them.”
“Noted.”
The evening storm is finally passing, giving the moon a chance to make her appearance. Finn gazes up and sighs. “Seven flaming rivers, Dev. Of all the times to fall into a witch’s snare.”
“I did warn you,” I remind him. “I felt the magic calling to me all evening.”
“Yes, and thank your ancient balls the copious hours of WitchTok scrolling finally paid off.” He rolls his eyes and gestures for another Fireball.
I pass him the shot. “I’ve got this. Trust me. Everything will work out.”
Finn downs the drink. Shakes his head. Curses up at the moon, then at me. And then, finally, a brief nod.
As always, my best friend’s loyalty never wavers.
“I’ll portal back in to check on you tomorrow,” he says. “Bring you some clothing before the Pumpkinville Police arrest you for public indecency.”
I grin and bow. “Public indecency is just one of the many services I offer.”
“Will you be all right for the night?”
“I’ll ask the demon inside to loan me some clothing. Since I can’t be more than thirty or so feet from the witch, I’ll be staying at her place.”
“Aha!” Finn pitches his empty bottles into a trash bin that reads Keep the Bay Beautiful! “Silver lining, there it is.”
I peer inside the storefront, where Violet is currently chatting with the proprietors, Maleek laughing at something she just said, her face lighting up in response. “If by ‘silver lining’ you mean the thing that will keep me up night after night and most likely lead to my downfall…”
“I don’t know about all that, Dev. She’s pretty cute. In that hot nerd-girl sort of way. Perhaps you might come to another sort of arrangement to pass the time.”
“Goodnight, Finn.”
“Yes, yes. I know a brushoff when I see one.” Laughing, he claps a hand over my shoulder. “Try not to cause any more trouble tonight. And don’t worry about things at home. I’ll be sure to keep the company satisfied and the bed warm in your absence.”
“Which bed?”
“All of them. Floors too. And the billiards table, the infinity pool, the table in the projector room, all seven hot tubs, the croquet lawn, the pool house…” Finn walks down the street, rattling off all the places he’ll be happily debasing in my absence, until he finally vanishes into the darkness beyond, a faint trail of Hell magic glowing in his wake.