Before I could process this information, three figures stepped through the rift. The air temperature dropped several degrees, and the lights flickered ominously.
The first was a slender being with bluish skin and what appeared to be small tentacles instead of hair. The second was more humanoid but had four arms and eyes that glowed like hot coals. The third was short, stout, and covered in what looked like spines or quills.
All three wore what I can only describe as business casual from the underworld—dark suits with subtle patterns that seemed to move when you weren’t looking directly at them.
“Lord Malphas,” the tentacle-haired one intoned, bowing deeply. “We come as scheduled to deliver our quarterly reports and receive your commands.”
Then all three noticed me, frozen in place with a coffee mug still in my hand, and their otherworldly faces registered various forms of surprise.
“My lord,” the four-armed one said cautiously, “you have… a human… in your dwelling.”
“Yes, Zaebur, I’m aware,” Malphas replied dryly. He set down the tape and moved to stand beside me, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back. “This is Sam. He lives here now.”
The three demons exchanged glances loaded with meaning I couldn’t interpret.
“Lives… here?” the spiny one repeated slowly. “As your… pet?”
“As my partner,” Malphas corrected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Sam, these are my lieutenants: Ixizel, Zaebur, and Pustule.”
“Pustule?” I couldn’t help repeating, staring at the spiny demon.
“It sounds more impressive in the original demonic tongue,” Pustule muttered defensively.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I said, falling back on politeness because I had absolutely no protocol for meeting my demonboyfriend’s infernal subordinates. “Would anyone like coffee? Or, um, the blood of the innocent, or whatever you guys drink?”
Another loaded silence followed, broken finally by Ixizel’s tentacles writhing in what I hoped was amusement rather than aggression.
“Coffee would be… acceptable,” they said carefully.
“Great!” I said with forced cheerfulness. “I’ll just… go make some. You all catch up on your… hell business.”
I retreated to the kitchen, my mind racing. Malphas had mentioned his “infernal business” before, but it had remained abstract until now. Seeing his demonic subordinates in the flesh (or whatever they were made of) made his otherworldly status impossible to ignore.
As I prepared coffee with shaking hands, I could hear the murmur of voices from the living room, occasionally rising in what sounded like heated discussion. I caught fragments—something about “soul quotas” and “territorial encroachment”—but tried not to eavesdrop too obviously.
When I returned with a tray of coffee mugs, the demons were seated awkwardly on Malphas’s tasteful living room furniture. The conversation ceased abruptly as I entered.
“Coffee,” I announced unnecessarily, setting down the tray. “I, uh, wasn’t sure how you take it, so I brought cream and sugar.”
“Black as the void between stars is traditional,” Pustule informed me seriously, then ruined the effect by adding three sugar cubes to his mug.
An awkward silence fell as everyone sipped their coffee. I perched on the arm of Malphas’s chair, hyperaware of the scrutiny from his demonic employees.
“So,” I said finally, unable to bear the silence, “how long have you all worked for Malphas?”
“Work for?” Zaebur repeated, blinking all four of his eyes in sequence. “We serve Lord Malphas. Have done since the Great Sundering, when he claimed dominion over the Seventh Quadrant.”
“Right,” I nodded as if this made perfect sense. “That’s… a long time.”
“Three thousand four hundred and seventy-two years by your human reckoning,” Ixizel supplied helpfully, their tentacles curling around their coffee mug. “Though time flows differently in the lower realms.”
“Cool, cool,” I said, wondering how I’d ended up here, making small talk with demons about their employment history. “And, uh, how’s business? The soul harvesting… thing?”
All three demons looked to Malphas, who sighed. “It’s fine, Sam. They’re here for their quarterly report anyway.”
“Soul acquisition has been below projections for the third consecutive quarter,” Zaebur reported promptly, producing a scroll from somewhere within his suit. “We’ve experienced particular difficulty in the tech sector—apparently a rival principality has exclusive rights to social media executives.”
“The torment division, however, is showing robust growth,” Pustule added, sounding oddly like a mid-level manager discussing sales figures. “Our innovative approach to ironic punishments has been very well-received. The ‘eternally searching for car keys’ initiative has been particularly effective for minor sinners.”
