“I have no idea what you mean,” I said, perhaps too quickly.
She just smiled knowingly. “Of course not. Now, shall I help with anything? I’m excellent at arranging cheese platters.”
For the next half hour, we worked together preparing the final touches. Alice chatted about neighborhood gossip while occasionally dropping cryptic comments that made me wonder exactly how much she knew. Malphas seemed unfazed by her behavior, responding to her with a warmth I rarely saw him show others.
“She knows, doesn’t she?” I whispered to him when Alice stepped outside to arrange some flowers.
“She suspects,” he replied quietly. “But not the full truth. She thinks I’m some kind of ‘elemental spirit’ or ‘higher dimensional being.’ Which isn’t entirely inaccurate, I suppose.”
“And that doesn’t worry you?”
He shrugged. “Alice keeps to herself. And she makes excellent baked goods for the winter solstice.”
Before I could question this further, the doorbell rang again, and the party officially began.
Chapter 10
The next few hours were surreal. I watched as Malphas—MALPHAS, PRINCE OF HELL—charmed his way through suburban social interactions with surprising ease. He grilled burgers to perfection, discussed lawn fertilizer techniques with middle-aged men, and complimented women on their recipes without a single mention of souls or eternal damnation.
Most bizarre was how normal everyone treated him. To them, he was just the tall, somewhat intense neighbor with impeccable landscaping and a new boyfriend. (Several guests had made assumptions about our relationship that neither of us corrected.)
“So, how’d you two meet?” asked Dave Henderson, a jovial man with a receding hairline who had indeed brought excellent potato salad.
“Support group,” I answered honestly, taking a sip of my beer.
“Oh?” Dave’s eyebrows rose with interest. “What kind, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The kind where people talk about being possessed by supernatural entities.“Trauma survivors,” I said vaguely.
Dave nodded sympathetically. “That’s great. Good to have support, you know? My brother-in-law did group therapy after his divorce. Really turned him around.”
“Right,” I agreed, watching as Malphas expertly flipped burgers while discussing the merits of different propane tanks with another neighbor. “It’s been… life-changing.”
“You two seem good together,” Dave observed, following my gaze. “He seems happier. More relaxed.”
I turned to him in surprise. “Really?”
Dave nodded. “Oh yeah. Malphas has always been a good neighbor—helped me install a new water heater last winter, which was a lifesaver. But he’s always seemed… I don’t know… lonely? Like he’s holding something back.” He gestured toward where Malphas was now laughing at something someone had said. “He’s different with you around. More himself, somehow.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. The idea that I had any positive impact on a being as ancient and powerful as Malphas was bewildering.
“Well, I should mingle,” I said finally. “Nice talking to you, Dave.”
I made my way through the gathering, chatting with neighbors who all seemed genuinely nice, if oblivious to the fact that they were eating barbecue prepared by a demon. Occasionally, I’d catch Malphas watching me from across the yard, his expression soft in a way that made my heart race.
Everything was going surprisingly well until Roger Miller arrived with his college-aged daughter, Ashley.
I noticed her immediately—tall, blonde, and wearing a sundress that showed off her tan. More importantly, I noticed how she made a beeline for Malphas, touching his arm as she greeted him with obvious familiarity.
“Who’s that?” I asked Alice, who had materialized beside me with uncanny timing.
“Ashley Miller,” she supplied, sipping her iced tea. “She’s had a crush on our host for ages. Comes home from college andmakes excuses to ask for his help with her car, gardening advice, you name it.”
I watched as Ashley laughed at something Malphas said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “She’s pretty,” I observed, aiming for neutral but landing somewhere near sulky.
Alice’s knowing smile made me regret the comment immediately. “She is. And quite determined. But I wouldn’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” I lied, taking a large gulp of beer.
