Chapter 1
Sam
From my rooftop perch, I only counted three measly soldier demons. Wretched traitors, the lot of them. They should count themselves lucky my blade would be the one to end their miserable lives. They’d been following the random bits of divine energy I released, thinking they’d be the lucky ones to bring me in.
Lucifer fucking Morningstar wouldn’t be caught so easily. Especially not by beings so far down the food chain. It was insulting, honestly.
The trio entered the alley below my position, heads swiveling. I’d been watching them for a while, hoping to catch an errant thought about the state of things in Hell, but their focus had been solely on my capture and return. Over the past year, all I’d gotten from soldiers and scouts alike was Abaddon’s desperation to find me. Capture me.
Fucking chain me again.
I shuddered at the memory of the dark, Hell-forged links. Unbreakable, even for a being like myself—perhaps especially so, having been madeforbeings[1]like me. I’d had a large hand in creating the damn things, after all. Their original purpose had been for holding prisoners of the war between Heaven and Hell, or for other fallen who stepped out of line. Never would I have guessed they’d be used against me.
But I’d escaped. Abaddon must’ve been desperate indeed to send such small, pathetic groups as this one. Demons weren’t the brightest to begin with, but this was ridiculous. It was like he wasn’t even trying anymore, especially if he only ever sent the lower ranks who were intolerant to daylight.
If I started thinking that way, though, I’d get complacent. It would only serve to put me back in those damn chains, which was not an option.
I checked my watch. As much as I wanted to keep playing with them, tearing them apart piece by piece until they gave me something I could use, I had places to be that were much more interesting than this small, boring city.
The soldier demons stopped in the middle of the alley, talking amongst themselves in a guttural language my humanmeatsuit’s[2]ears found unpleasant. It was now or never.
I stood and stepped off the ledge, silently falling five stories to the ground below. Just before I hit the concrete, wings materialized behind me and a flaming sword appeared in my hand. It was a relic from my archangel days, one I’d rarely used before this year, but it proved effective for ending things quickly.
They barely had time to turn before their grotesque heads bounced off the ground and into the nearby dumpster. By sunrise, there would be nothing left, their bodies already dissolving before they’d even landed. No cleanup was a bonus of fighting creatures from another realm.
It left me unsatisfied, though. That was underwhelming as hell. I should’ve given them a chance to fight back, made it a little bit interesting. When I had more time, maybe.
My sword and wings disappeared and I straightened my black t-shirt, grateful my wings weren’t physical on thisplane[3]. Buying new shirts every time they came out would get fucking annoying fast. I brushed the dissolving demon residue from my arms and looked around, my senses on high alert for any more demons. A stray cat cowered under the dumpster, but nothing else.
Time to get home, then.
With an ear-popping touch of effort, I appeared in an empty kitchen. Stainless steel countertops, three tall rack ovens, three large walk-ins for dry, cold, and frozen ingredients, sealed stone floors—this place was my sanctuary. Laying low and gathering information got boring fast, especially since most of the demons after me only came out at night, so I’d found something to occupy my time.
Sinsational Sweetswas Boston’s newest up-and-coming bakery and pastry shop. It was in a prime location near the waterfront and within walking distance to the University of Massachusetts. In fact, with some blackmail and a very naughty property developer, I’d gotten into an exclusive area nestled among the apartment buildings of Harbor Point. I’d only had to work my charms on the right people to buy one of the lots near the tennis courts, one bordering the main road for public access.
I could be averyconvincing person.
Picture windows wrapped around the front of the shop and three small tables lined each side, leaving the center open for the line of customers. White dominated most of the space, with red and black accents that played on the “sin” inSinsational Sweets. Red tables with tall red and black chairs, and red and black stripes demarcating the center walkway on the white stone floor. The white counter had more stripes along the front, and I’d decorated the white walls with a few commissioned art pieces depicting baked goods with the classic devil horns and tails.
Oh, if mortals only knew…
Walking through the kitchen, I fired up all three ovens, each set to a different temperature, and prepped the dough mixer while I waited on my truck to show up. Along the counters, appliances were stored behind small sliding doors when not in use, which kept the workspace clear, and outlets were tucked under the overhead shelves. I’d designed the entire place myself for maximum efficiency since I was a one-man crew. Humans would be too distracted trying to get into my pants to get any work done, so it was all on me.
They would also be a liability if unwanted visitors ever came by. Regardless of the lore surrounding me, I only punished those who deserved it, and I didn’t want innocents hurt because of my negligence. That was why I’d been trying to keep the demons away from Boston.
I hunted them every chance I could. Since my escape, they’d been out in force looking for me. If I felt them anywhere near, I lured them to another part of the state—or sometimes, another part of the country, just to keep them on their toes—and took them out.
I wore thedisgusting human facade and played slave to The Man and Big Pharma and whatever else the mortal masses subjected themselves to.[4]From soldier demons to my fallen brethren, I would fight tooth and claw to retain my freedom until the time was right. I wasn’t hiding, exactly; I was biding my time in plain sight, under the guise of Sam Rivers, doing the last thing they’d ever expect of the rightful ruler of Hell.
The heat in the kitchen, as the ovens did their jobs, soothed me. I’d been accustomed to a much hotter climate, and it reminded me of better times. The days when I could torture damned souls in peace. Before lesser demons and the fallen had elevated themselves above their proper stations.I growled to myself just as a loud buzz at the small loading dock announced the arrival of my eggs. A little late, which annoyed me, but at least they were here.[5]
Word had spread quickly about my shop, and in the few months it’d been open, it was already among the top five most popular bakeries in the city. By six o’clock, the parking lot was nearly full and a line waited for me. I grinned proudly at the strain in their postures as I unlocked the door. I had little patience for selfishness or entitlement, so when one such person made a scene a couple of months ago demanding immediate service despite the line they’d bypassed, I’d made it an issue my regulars hadn’t forgotten.
Most of my customers were the students who lived in the apartments nearby, either on their way to classes or home after a wild party. Sprinkled in were the suits—professors from the universities, most of their sins as cheap as their clothes, and the wealthier businessmen and women, whose regular transgressions were a balm for my immortal essence.
I wasn’t afraid to admit I was a shameless flirt. It made for good business. My pastries were to die for, but my unique brand of charm kept regulars coming back, who in turn brought new customers in. It didn’t hurt that this body was strikingly handsome for a human, fine-tuned for the best results.
I only dealt inperfection[6].
