Page 51 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

The Devil took his time thinking about that. “But does that mean I can have your spots?”

I considered throwing my mother’s vase at his head, sighed, and thought better of it. Rather than commit an act of assault against the Devil, I regarded the clear fish prison with interest. “Is there a way to make sure those assholes become fish?”

“Yes,” the archangels and the Devil replied.

“Should I be concerned that the pair of archangels seem somewhat enthusiastic about this?”

Michael came to me and patted my shoulder. “You do an act of great good with evil intentions. While we dislike the sin, you do a greater good, and we see what will change because of what you will do. As such, it would not be prudent for us to interfere with your evil ways. We assist for the sake of the greater good, for all your heart quite enjoys its evil ways.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? If I’m going to end up one of the fucking assholes inhabiting that asshole’s hells, I may as well earn it. What kind of fish am I getting?”

“You shall find out soon enough,” the Devil promised.

Chapter Ten

You devils are all insane, aren’t you?

Belial showed up at my house with a beautiful box decorated with fish with long, flowing tails. Upon his arrival, the Devil sulked, pretended to ignore the other devil, and spent his time in my kitchen muttering curses. The archangels lingered, and I didn’t need to see their heads to get the feeling they did not possess a cordial relationship with the devil associated with ruin.

Whatever. I didn’t care. I was grateful I still remembered the devil’s name. I took the box out of his hands. “Thank you, Belial.”

“I’ve been asked to continue assisting you, as my true visage will not bring harm to your mortal soul.”

Ah ha. The Devil resented Belial could do something he could not. “Given an hour or so, I’m not going to remember your name, so please accept my thanks for your help now.”

Belial inclined his head. “You are a bold mortal, and it would be a pity to bring forth your ruination prematurely.”

“You devils are all insane, aren’t you?”

That earned me a grin, a rather vicious one revealing pointed canines. “To a certain degree.”

“He’s jealous because you can show yourself and won’t wipe me out, whereas he can’t. Is this correct?”

“Yes.”

I turned towards my kitchen and stomped my foot. “Stop being a baby. The archangels aren’t whining they have to put their heads into storage to keep me from kicking the bucket, so get your ass in here and act like a gentleman.”

“I’m hardly a gentleman,” the Devil retorted, although he did come into my living room, and he scowled at me.

“If you want to ever see a spot again, you’ll be a gentleman. I deserve a gentleman, especially in my house. If I don’t want a gentleman, I’ll tell you, and then you can earn a spot through encouraged ungentlemanly behavior.”

The Devil blinked, and he furrowed his brows. “Do you want gentlemanly or ungentlemanly behavior?”

“Gentlemen might, through displays of gentlemanly behavior, earn spots. The only time ungentlemanly behavior is rewarded with spots is when I specifically request the ungentlemanly behavior. I would like to mention I can shift so the only spots you see are the ones on my ears and tail. You should be grateful there might be some succubi willing to put up with you. I have standards.”

“Your standards are cruel, and they are too high,” he complained.

“A spot earned is far more satisfying when claimed.”

“Can we discuss the claiming process?”

“No.”

The Devil growled. “You’re ruthless in addition to cruel.”

“And you’re a whiner.”

“Does whining earn me a spot?”