“Tell me.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Everything. From the beginning.”
Mal’s tail curls tighter, wrapping around his own leg like he’s trying to hold himself together. “You might want to sit down.”
“I’ll stand.”
A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Stubborn as always.” He takes a breath—unnecessary, I remember, since demons don’t actually need to breathe. Just a human habit he’s picked up over the centuries.
Centuries. God.
“I was young when I signed the contract,” he begins. “Young by demon standards, at least. Barely fifty years old. Arrogant. Convinced I was smarter than everyone else. Azrael offered me power and influence, the ability to shape chaos however I wanted. All I had to do was bind myself to his service for three hundred years.” Another breath. “It seemed like such a long time. I thought I could find a loophole, exploit the escape clause, and be free within a decade or two. I was wrong.”
He moves to the barre, gripping it like a lifeline. The wood creaks under his fingers.
“The escape clause requires seven freely offered invitations from the same person. Each one representing a deeper level of trust. It sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? Make someone trust you, receive their invitations, fulfill the contract. But there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with infernal contracts.”
“The final invitation requires full knowledge,” I say, remembering Azrael’s words. “Complete understanding of what you truly are.”
Mal nods. “Not just what I am. What I’ve done. Three hundred years of demonic existence, Izzie. Three centuries of chaosand manipulation and deals that destroyed lives. The contract doesn’t just require acceptance of my nature—it requires acceptance of my history. Every terrible thing I’ve ever done. Every innocent person who suffered because of my choices.”
My stomach turns.
“How many?” The question comes out before I can stop it. “How many terrible things?”
“Too many to count.” His voice is hollow. “I told myself I was just following orders. Just fulfilling my role. Just doing what chaos demons do. But the truth is, I enjoyed it. For a long time, I genuinely enjoyed watching the world burn.”
I should leave. I should walk out that door and never look back and pretend this whole thing was a fever dream brought on by too much stress and too little sleep.
Instead, I find myself asking: “What changed?”
Mal’s grip on the barre tightens. “Elena.”
The name hangs in the air between us.
“Tell me about her.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible.
“I met her in Thessaly, in a small village near the coast. She was a healer—nothing magical, just herbs and knowledge passed down from her grandmother. I was there on Azrael’s business, stirring up conflict and spreading discord. The usual.” A bitter laugh. “But Elena... she was different. She saw through my glamor almost immediately. Not literally—she didn’t know I was a demon. But she saw through the person I was pretending tobe. The charming stranger. The helpful traveler. She looked right past all of it and said, ‘You seem very sad for someone who smiles so much.’“
You seem very sad for someone who smiles so much.
I think about all the times I’ve caught glimpses of something beneath Mal’s teasing facade. The moments when his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. The way he deflects with humor whenever the conversation turns too serious.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
“I fell for her.” Simple words. Devastating delivery. “I hadn’t thought it was possible. Demons are creatures of chaos and contract, not emotion. But Elena... she made me want to be something else. Someone else. Someone better.”
His tail uncurls slightly, then coils again. A nervous habit I’ve never noticed before.
“I told her what I was. She accepted it. All six invitations turned ruby within a year—the fastest I’d ever progressed. The escape was within reach. All I needed was the seventh invitation, and I would be free.”
“But?”
“But the contract requires full knowledge.” His voice goes flat. “Not just what I am, but what I’ve done. And Elena... she knew I was a demon. She’d accepted my nature, my appearance, and even my occasional bursts of chaos. But she didn’t know about the village I’d destroyed fifty years earlier. The plague I’d helped spread across Constantinople. The dozens of bargains I’d made that ended in suffering and death.”
My hands have gone cold.
“Did you tell her?”
