“Uh, everywhere?” I gestured at my soaking living room.
Malphas swept past me, his nostrils flaring as he assessed the situation. Without a word, he disappeared into the hall, and I heard heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs. Three minutes later, the indoor rain stopped.
He returned, slightly damp. “Found the main shutoff. Your upstairs neighbor’s water heater ruptured.”
“How did you—”
“I can sense water flow,” he said matter-of-factly, then looked slightly embarrassed. “And I knocked on their door, but they’re not home.”
For the next hour, I watched in fascination as Malphas efficiently dealt with my soggy apartment. He moved furniture, set up fans, and patched a section of ceiling that was threatening to collapse. His movements were precise and confident, his massive hands surprisingly delicate with tools.
“The real damage is in your bathroom,” he said finally, wiping sweat from his brow. I tried not to stare at the way his shirt clung to his damp chest. “The water’s seeped into the walls. You can’t stay here tonight.”
“Great,” I sighed, looking around at my disaster zone of an apartment. “I’ll get a hotel.”
Malphas hesitated, then said, “You could stay at my place.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Your place? Like… in hell?”
He actually laughed. “No. My earthly residence. It’s a house over in Mapleton Heights.”
“You… own a house? In the suburbs?”
Malphas looked slightly defensive. “It’s a good investment property. Solid school district.”
Did a demon prince just mention the school district?I wondered, trying not to smile.
“That’s… really nice of you,” I said. “But I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s no imposition,” he insisted. “I have a guest room that’s fully furnished. And this way, I can come back tomorrow to assess the damage properly.” His eyes, currently more hazel than hellfire, met mine. “It’s the logical solution.”
It was 4:30 AM, I was exhausted, and the prospect of searching for a hotel seemed overwhelming. Plus, I was undeniably curious about where a demon-slash-home-improvement-enthusiast lived.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Let me pack a bag.”
Chapter 3
Malphas’s “earthly residence” turned out to be a charming Craftsman-style house with immaculate landscaping. As we pulled into the driveway in his surprisingly normal SUV (I’d been expecting something more… flaming), I noticed the perfectly edged lawn, the well-maintained garden beds, and the gleaming exterior.
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “This is really nice.”
Malphas beamed with pride, his demonic features softening. “Thank you. I rebuilt the front porch myself.”
Inside was just as surprising. The decor was tasteful—modern but comfortable, with rich colors and quality furniture. Nothing screamed “a demon lives here” unless you counted the massive battle axe mounted above the fireplace, which Malphas caught me staring at.
“A relic from my early days,” he explained, almost apologetically. “I keep meaning to replace it with something more appropriate, but Gary thinks it adds character.”
It was surreal watching this imposing demonic figure move around a perfectly normal kitchen, preparing coffee and talking about his renovation plans for the guest bathroom. Even more surreal was how comfortable it felt.
He showed me to the guest room—tastefully decorated in blues and grays—and pointed out the attached bathroom.
“There are clean towels in the linen closet,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
I set my hastily packed overnight bag on the bed. “Thanks, Malphas. Seriously. You really saved me tonight.”
Something flickered in his eyes—a flash of that otherworldly red. “It’s nothing,” he rumbled, his voice momentarily deeper, more demonic. Then he cleared his throat, and regular Malphas was back. “Get some rest. I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”
As he turned to leave, I impulsively asked, “So which one are you right now? Malphas or Gary?”
