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I shoot him a malicious frown and say, “Come, little pet. I’m taking you home with me. I’m Faith, by the way, and I’ll be your demon for this outing.”
He blinks, then looks around. “But… but there’s nothing around. What are you going to do to me?”
The blackness fades into deep, sanguine rivers beneath our feet. The sky above returns to its hazy sienna and mustard yellow. Cloudless, of course, but more beautiful than any Earth sky I’ve ever seen.
“What am I going to do to you, you ask? Punish you for being such a bad, bad boy, of course,” I say, then stick my forked tongue out at him. He gasps when he catches sight of it. “And you’ve been so very bad, Byron.”
I spiritByron and I away to my apartment, which is a literal hovel dug out in the side of an active volcano. It’s served me well for a millennium or more. Hell if I know how much time has passed, but it’s no penthouse. And the ash that’s constantly billowing in through the cavern entrance from all the frequent eruptions is a huge pain in the ass. I’m constantly snapping my fingers to magic it all away. My fingers are exhausted.
My bed, which is the only comfy thing in the entire place, sits in the middle of the dark room. Stalactites hang over the bed, which is an enormous round red cushion with blankets strewn across it. It’s nothing fancy, but I like it. The rest is your basic cave, no more, no less. There’s no need for me to eat, so there’s no kitchen. And I don’t need a bathroom in Hell because I don’t have any ofthosebodily functions. When on Earth, I love totake as many baths and showers as possible. A luxury of sorts, I guess.
The human, Bryan or Baron or whatever the fuck his name is, I’ve already forgotten, immediately throws up all over the floor. The splatter just misses my shoes.
“Looks like someone’s getting extra punishment,” I mutter. Then I snap my fingers and the puddle of waste disappears into thin air, like it never even happened. The human looks up at me, his skin turning sickly green.
“P-Please… whatever you want. I’ll give it to you. I have money,” he groans as he staggers toward my bed. Oh, no. No, no, no. He’s not going to get any stains on my comforter. It’s literally the only nice thing I own.
“Step away from the bed,” I say, pointing a claw at his back. “Or I will remove that handsome head from your shoulders, and you won’t be allowed to redeem yourself for that pitiful display. Seriously. Are you prone to motion sickness or something?”
He sways back and forth and runs the back of his hand across his clammy forehead. It’s a million degrees in here and yet he looks… wet. Oh. Wait. Sweating. He’s sweating. Something humans do when they’re too hot or ill or overexerted, right? And I guess we could check all three of those things off on his list right now.
I let out a sigh as I approach him. He flinches and takes a step back.
“Ugh. Look. You can sit down on the ground and put your head between your knees if you need to,” I say. The guy’s name finally comes back to me, so I say, “Byron, right? You’re no use to me if you’re already acting like a sad little worm, so just sit down and chill, please.”
“Chill?” Byron’s fierce blue eyes snap open as he glares at me, but he sits down anyway. “Really, lady? Or whatever the fuck youare. That’s rich, considering you just kidnapped me. And now you want me to chill?”
I press my palms together in a praying gesture and press them against my forehead. “’Kay. Look. I get it. This is scary for you. And it’s kind of scary for me, too, since you’re literally my last assignment before I’m thrown into the bowels of Hell with no hope of escape.”
Byron looks around, his eye twitching slightly. “This isn’t already Hell? Where are we now, then?”
I sigh. Right. He doesn’t understand because he’s a human mortal.
“There’s… layers to Hell. So, yes. This is Hell. It’s the Second Layer. Lust. But the place where I’m going to be sent to, unless I somehow extract an extra juicy soul from your walking pile of meat, is the Pit. I’ll waste away for the rest of eternity, only without the pay and benefits. It’s a huge demotion. I’ll get to suffer while buried up to my neck in brimstone and mud and watch as bigger, better demons pass through, ignoring my existence while using my skull as a steppingstone.”
Byron sits down on the edge of my bed. Without permission. But this time, and only this time, I’ll allow it. Because he looks so gosh-darn cute with that confused look on his face. Like one of those Earth puppies humans go mad for.
“None of that made sense to me, but I think I heard the word ‘demotion,’ and I’m really sorry. That’s what it is, right?”
I nod. Okay, normally I wouldn’t have a conversation with the very souls I’m supposed to torment, but it’s been ages since anyone’s actually listened to me. I sit down next to him and sigh. “Yes. You could call it that, I suppose. I’m a lesser demon of Hell working in one of the most competitive soul-extracting agencies in the Second Layer, and it’s exhausting. And it doesn’t pay well. I mean, look around you.” I gesture to the room and wince.
“I get it. Really, I do. I know it might not seem like I do, but I can understand the pressure,” he says, and places his hand on my knee. Is he serious right now? When I scowl at his hand, he quickly removes it. “Sorry, sorry. Forgot myself for a second. Usually when I try to woo a woman, it’s to sleep with her, not to save my own neck.”
“Yeah. I know. I know a lot about you and your womanizing ways,” I say, my voice dripping with contempt.
His brow shoots up. “Um, how do you do that, exactly? Can you read my mind or something?”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing so lucid as that. I see your soul as a sort of painter’s canvas. Babies have blank canvases, obviously. But as you go through life, your canvas either gets color thrown onto it like a painting, or it gets stained from misdeeds. And yours looks like someone mud-wrestled across it.”
Byron’s shoulders slump forward. “I see.”
That’s it? Just, “I see?” I was prepared for him to get down on his hands and knees and beg me for forgiveness like they usually do, or give me a litany of excuses or tell me why they’re not so bad after all, really. I’ve heard every excuse in the book. It’s never changed my mind about punishing them and extracting their souls, of course, because I never make a mistake. I’ve never taken an innocent. Every single soul I’ve taken over my millennium of service has deserved it, tenfold.
“You’re right. My soul is pretty tarnished at this point. I’m not even thirty and I can’t seem to get my shit together,” he says with a slow shake of his head. He lets out a huff that sounds suspiciously like disappointment. Then, when he lifts his head to meet my gaze, he murmurs, “And if you showed up to take my soul, it must mean I deserve to be punished, right?”
I nod, blinking. What the heck is happening right now? This guy is a weirdo, and I’m not sure I want to deal with that rightnow. Not as my last mark. Maybe I grabbed a dud and I should return him before I waste even more time.
“Then…” He drops down to his hands and knees. Ah, yes. Here it comes. The crying, the begging, the desperation to save his own skin. I’m honestly kind of disappointed. I was hoping Byron would surprise me, but it turns out he’s the same as the rest. “Please, Mistress. Please, punish me as you see fit.”
