“Be serious, Finn.”
“Personally, I can think of nothingmoreserious than losing one’s favorite appendage, but since you’re clearly—”
“Notin the mood. So if you can’t reign in it, then kindly fuck yourself right back out from whence you came. I’m sure there are plenty of vacuous heads in the mansion this evening for you to fill with your special brand of fun.”
“Heads, holes. Either way.” He turns toward the fire, a blissful moment of silence descending.
The flames crackle and pop, seducing me with their erotic dance. It’s at once familiar and strange, like the cover of a song I used to love, the new rendition not quite hitting the mark.
“It’s the strangest thing,” I admit. “But I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s… some other place I’m supposed to be.”
He glances over at me, his brow furrowing, and for a moment I think he might offer some sage piece of advice.
But then he laughs and says, “Balls deep in one of the three starlets currently handcuffed to your bed? They had to ditch their publicist in a dangerous high-speed chase through the hills just to make it here tonight, and they’re getting impatient waiting for you to notice.”
“Like I give a fuck about their publicist.”
“Well, that’s the whole issue, innit? Apparently, youdidfuck her, multiple times, in multiple orifices, then ghosted her, despite numerous attempts on her part to arrange for…ahem… a re-servicing of the aforementioned orifices. So now she’s forbidding her clients from associating with you inanymanner, public or private. Not that I blame her, what with all the dalliances and disappearing acts you’ve pulled this month. It reminds me of the summer of 1743—nowthatwas a banner year, wasn’t it? 1810 is a close second, though…”
Finn rambles on about my indiscretions, a best-of-the-best highlights reel of debauchery that spans the centuries. Normally, I’d sit back and take it all in, pride swelling in my chest, laughing right along with him.Ah, the good ol’ days…
But that dark, chilly whisper hasn’t left me.
“In any case, you shouldn’t worry so much.” Finn finally pauses for another swig of bourbon. “We’re nearly there.”
“Nearly where?”
“A few hundred more souls, give or take, and we’re back in your father’s good graces. Assuming he upholds his end of the bargain, we’ll be back in time for the family Christmas party.”
I turn to him, my jaw dropping. We’ve been at the soul-corrupting game for so many centuries, I stopped counting.
After that business with the witch ex-girlfriend, the war, etcetera, my father revoked my title and banished me from Hell, never to return until and unless I completed the task he set forth: Sign over one million souls to eternal demonic servitude, delivering them to Hell upon their deaths.
Well. One million may as well have been a trillion, for all I knew—a cruel, impossible punishment devised by a cruel, impossible father eager to make an example out of his errant son.
But now… Is it actually possible we’re that close?
“You’re certain?” I ask.
“By my last accounting, we only had about five hundred left. And tonight’s turnout is stellar.”
“One seventy, I believe.”
“Precisely.” Finn downs the last of his bourbon and shrugs. “At this rate, we could wrap it all up with just a few more parties..”
“You really believe that?”
“Put your back into it, mate. Los Angeles, remember? It’s precisely why we chose the place. Not exactly a challenge.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “Please don’t make the fish in a barrel analogy again, Finn. For the love of all that’s unholy, don’t—”
“Highly immoral fish in a rotten barrel of filth that’slongoverdue for a good scouring. Before you start feeling guilty about it.”
“How do you sleep at night?”
“Preferably between two buxom beauty influencers, three on a good night.” He grabs one of the couch pillows and mimics some sort of lewd… well, to be perfectly honest, I can’t quite tell if he’s spanking it or dancing with it or possibly experiencing a medical emergency, but his antics pry a laugh out of me nevertheless.
Ah, Finn. There’s no one like my best mate to lift my spirits during the dark times.
