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I want that penthouse. No, Ineedit. It’s fire in my veins and what keeps me motivated on my very worst days. And lately, I’ve had a lot of worst days. Brushing my dark, wavy locks back behind my shoulders, I make my way past the penthouse’s front entrance and sniffle when I spot several gorgeous succubisaunter past wearing tight leather skirts and corsets. Their wings clasp between their shoulder blades, and I’m hit with a pang of envy. Wings. Another thing you get if you get promoted to succubus. The absence of anything between my own shoulders is suddenly obvious to me, and I grind my molars into dust.
They’re coming back from another successful day of work, no doubt, and now they get to lounge on the beach and submerge themselves in molten lava while they sip on blood wine coolers. I’m so jealous, my crimson skin is turning green.
When I finally reach my place of employment, the Lust & Torment Center 451, which is nothing more than a black brick building that overlooks a shitty little alleyway filled with dumpsters containing severed heads and limbs, I already want to leave. To be honest with myself for once, I really hate this job. I wasn’t given a choice of career, though, since all lesser demons are given an assignment the second we pop out of the mounds of ash that birth us. Ready to work before we even know how to walk.
I know what everyone is going to say. “Faith, how come you’ve only tortured two damned souls this month? Isn’t the average thirty?”
Yes. The average total is, in fact, thirty. And the ones who get promoted to succubi usually take on fifty or more. And here I am with my pitiful two souls condemned to the third layer of Hell. My job as a torturer means I go to Earth to sift through the dregs of humanity and punish them. But lately, I’ve been coming up short in my talents. And my department manager has definitely noticed.
I slink past his office, clutching my human-skin briefcase to my chest, and silently pray once again that this dolt of a goblin doesn’t notice me. As I creep past his open doorway, I cast a nervous glance towards his chair. Which he isn’t currently in. Fuck. The fucker is right behind me, isn’t he?
“Faith,” my boss’s voice grinds out from behind me. I wince. My tail twitches, and I slowly turn around to face the hobgoblin, Lucardio, who is the size of an Earth raccoon but twenty times meaner, if you can even believe that. His amber eyes lock onto mine and I gulp. “Arriving to the office a little late this morning, aren’t you?” he asks as he brings his mug to his lips. It’s steaming full of something tar-like and nasty. I don’t know what goblins eat and drink, and judging from the musky, putrid scent emanating from his cup, I don’t think I want to know, either.
Combing my fingers through my hair, I try my best to smile sweetly and say, “My five alarms failed to wake me up, I’m afraid. I had a rough night.”
If I thought my boss would be understanding, I’m sorely mistaken.
“Faith. You do realize it’s the end of the month, right?”
I nod, my smile fading. Yeah. It’s kind of hard not to notice it’s the end of the month when I’ve missed my quota by twenty-eight souls and everyone keeps reminding me of that fact every second I’m awake.
“And what are you going to do about that?” he growls. My manager is a dick, but he’s at least a reasonable dick. I might be able to negotiate with him. Maybe pop him a little titty, give him the best hour of his life to buy myself some time. But when I start to unbutton my tight-fitting work shirt, he shakes his head.
“No, Faith. That’s not going to work on me. You have two days left to bag yourself a high-value soul, or that pert ass of yours is going straight to the Pit,” he says so forcefully, some of his spit lands on my face and burns my cheek like an errant cinder. Ew. I wipe his saliva away and shoot him a withering look.
“Two days? That’s impossible,” I say, planting a hand on my hip. “At least give me a fucking week.”
“You’ve had thousands of years, and what have you done with them? Squandered ’em. Look around you, honey.” Lucardio gestures with a wave of his hand. We're in a gods damned alabaster hallway with wall-to-wall gray carpeting. What am I supposed to be looking at? The blank wall? “You’re working in the highest paying, most competitive corporation in the Second Layer of Hell! And the only reason you got this job to begin with was because you blew the CEO at his bachelor party.”
Ah, yes. I smile fondly at the memory as I’m taken back to that hazy, drunken afternoon. What a wonderful weekend that was. Full of blood wine and the screaming souls of murderers.
“Faith,” my boss snaps, bringing me out of my reverie. “Get with the program. You’re not cut out for this lifestyle, honey.”
How many times has someone told me that in the past thousand years? The past month? Hell, even the past hour? Too many to count, I’m sure, but never once did I believe them. Just because I hate my job doesn’t mean I’m terrible at it. Sure, I might not be the cream of the crop like Mordecai and Malakai, the succubus and incubus tag team who make mortal wishes come true before plunging their souls into a fiery inferno. But I have promise, dammit! I have potential! Human men love me! I am adored!
“I can do it,” I hiss, and turn on my heel to leave. I’m not going to let some scrawny hobgoblin ruin my day, manager or not.
“Two days, Faith. And then after that? You know what that means,” he threatens, his voice husky like tobacco smoke.
“Yeah, yeah,” I drawl, and wave my hand dismissively overhead without looking back. “You’ll have your stupid high-value soul. And then you’ll eat your words.”
My boss lets out a deep cackle. “Hah! It’ll be a cold day in Hell indeed when that happens, Faith. A cold day, indeed.”
Look,I know I’m hot stuff. Every man I meet on Earth can barely keep their tongues in their mouths when they see me walk past. There are a few demons working at the office who have the unique ability to drive a man insane simply from looking at them, but that wouldn’t be very fun. I pride myself in being a little more hands-on with my craft, and I can’t have their brains dribbling out of their ears every time they look at me, so I’m thankful I’m only a moderately hot lesser demon. To keep things fair, you know? I’m sure I can figure something out. I’m an intelligent woman, after all.
Once I’m back in my cubicle, I collect the equipment from within my desk and prepare for my assignment. Rather, challenge. Because the goblin is right. If I can’t make these next two days work, I’m finished. Everyone in the building knows it, judging from the way they look at me as they go past my cubicle.
Sondra, my cubicle neighbor, flashes me a wary smile as she approaches me, holding a cup of coffee in her purple claws.
“Hey. Heard what happened. I am so, so sorry, girl,” she says.
I scoff as I shove my favorite flogger into my briefcase. “Sorry for what? You’re talking like it’s a done deal already. I’m not going to the Pit, Sondra.”
Her lashes flutter prettily as she takes a timid swig of her drink. “Mm. Just… be careful up there, okay? I don’t want to lose you. You’re the only person I can tolerate sitting next to me, and I really don’t want to risk some wraith or goblin moving in next to me.”
Good old Sondra. She’s the best when it comes to pep talks. I flash her my pearly white fangs and grab my bright pink velvetvibrator—the one with the quadruple prongs—and wave it in her face. “Not gonna happen, babe. I’ll be back here before the end of the second day with the biggest, baddest soul anyone has ever seen.”
Sondra says nothing as she continues to stare at me. Yeah. She doesn’t believe me. It’s cool, though. I believe in me. And confidence is half the battle, right? Or was that showing up? Fuck it, doesn’t matter. I’m bagging myself a juicy soul so big I’m going to need a behemoth to help me carry it back down.
