“I can’t believeyou didn’t buyonesuit,” Kas whines. A bag hangs from his wrist.
“I’d rather fall into the most frigid pit of Hell than wear that monkey suit,” I retort.
Kas continues to moan. “Also hate that you've picked up that colloquialism.”
Another man in the shop had called the heavy clothing a monkey suit. The phrase makes Kas’ face scrunch as if in pain, which I quite like.
The clothing I purchased is much lighter–linen, the attendants called it–that hangs loosely from my legs and torso. Vibrant colors are ample in the Hells, but plants not at all. I chose clothes with bold colors and designs featuring flowers and plants. The shirts are a nice mix of familiar and new.
“You look like you’re going on vacation,” Kas scoffs.
“Perhaps I am…”
Without a contract I can do as I please. Explore the mortal plane without answering the whims of a mortal. I could see the ruins of cities, touch the salt of the ocean shore, find out what the fuck a coconut is. More than that, I could be the first devil to reallyliveamongst mortals. Then I’ll return to Hell, and the Kings and Archdevils will flock to me, a herald of the moral plane.
There’s a shrill sound down an alleyway as we walk past.
Kas keeps talking. “Well, as I promised, I’ll find you some other mortal to make a contract with. Maybe even several!”
The high pitch sound rings out again, and I stop walking.
“Trust me,” Kas insists. “You’ll get contracts.”
I’m much too interested in the sound to listen to Kas babble on. I walk down the alleyway.
“Rosier? Um, Prince?” Kas calls my name, not yet following.
The sound becomes louder and cries again and again. Stepping past a foul smelling metal box, I find the source of the noise, a creature about the size of an imp, curled up in a ball and yelping. Long white whiskers sprout along its nose, standing out against the creature’s fur, which is the color of darkness. Green eyes, even more vibrant than Minnie’s but with slits for pupils, look up at me.
I bend down to pick it up, and the creature hisses.
“Rosier!” Kas shouts, finally following me into the alley.
I reach for the creature again, this time grabbing it by the scruff of its neck, like one would a newborn hellhound.
“What are you–ew,” Kas deadpans. “Dumpster cat.”
“Thisis a cat?”
Kas furrows his brows, still looking at the creature like it might suddenly catch fire and burn us both. “Um, yeah, it’s a stray cat.”
“I’ve read about cats…”
I cup the cat’s underside, still holding onto its scruff, and find a crooked tail. Cats are notable witch familiars, known to be fierce but poised. The cat shows me its fangs. I can see the fierceness plainly, though I fail to see the elegance that makes these creatures gods in some mortals' eyes.
“You don’t think this one belongs to a witch do you?”
“I think it’s pretty safe to say if it’s eating trash, it doesn’t belong to anyone. Including you.”
Kas reaches forward, and I bring the cat close to my chest. I shoot him a glare and he shivers, his nature being to submit to my whims.
“Our building doesn’t allow pets!” he says, as if that means anything to me.
Now resting against my chest, the cat starts to growl. No, not a growl. It’s more inviting, but it does make the creature's whole body vibrate. The animal nudges its cheek into my chest, looking content with its shut eyes. Still holding the creature, I start to walk out of the alleyway. Kas mumbles, but he follows without another word.
As we approach the apartment, I’m met with a familiar head of curls. “You!” Minnie exclaims as soon as we make eye contact. That beguiling pout appears on her lips, and she marches up to me. “Donotrun off like that!” She huffs. “I’ve been running up and down the building looking for you.”
Her cheeks do look a little flushed, making the specks of brown across her nose and cheeks more noticeable.
