No, there are no other devils on this plane; he has to be a succubus. Neither mortal nor devil but a breeding of the two, one that can freely travel between the planes. Bouncing back and forth is rather impractical for succubi. Often they stay in the mortal plane where they can easily feed.
Kamsa tilts his head. “Minnie? Sweet little Minerva? I didn’t even realize she was a witch.”
“All mortals are the same,” I grumble. “How would you notice?”
Kamsa doesn’t object, instead he keeps looking me up and down. I clear my throat. “Apologies,” he says with a cough. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve spoken to a proper devil. And never wearing a fuzzy bathrobe.”
“Clearly it’s been some time since you’ve been with your own kin if you’re apologizing.” Such a practice wasn’t so much taboo as it was unheard of. “Let me guess, this isn’t respectable attire?” It was hypothetical; I’ve gathered, based on how Kamsa is dressed and from the breeze on my ass, that this clothing isn’t really meant for the outside world.
“Respectable? Maybe not, but you do make it work. You and Minerva aren’t exclusive are you?” His lips and brow quirk in a way that makes me laugh.
“Lustful little succubus aren’t you?”
Kamsa grins. “I won’t deny it. I lack any shame. But…” He inches closer to me. “I am happy to be of your service. Be that service my body or…”
I cross my arms, recalling how I’d worked myself up back in Minnie’s room. Using Kamsa as a fuck-toy feels like a waste. It’s clear he’s acclimated to this plane, something which I could benefit from.
“Tell me about the clothes on your back.”
* * *
“What doyou mean you two haven’t slept together?” Kamsa, or Kas, as he prefers to be called, bemoans on the couch behind me.
As soon as I asked about clothes, Kas realized I had none, as if Minnie’s robe didn’t already give it away. He’d found some old clothes of his that covered me up the “acceptable amount,” then brought me to a shop not too far from his lodgings.
An attendant measures my calves as I look back at Kas from one of the handful of mirrors surrounding me like acolytes. “I am not fueled by lust. Unlike you.”
“You flatter me.” Kas places a dainty hand over his chest. “But I don’t get why she would bring you here other than a night of bliss. Or pain. I don’t know what she’s into.”
I open my mouth to inform him pain is certainly something Minnie is interested in, then stop myself. I don’t like the idea of Kas knowing that fact about Minnie. It could be that he’s known her longer than I or it could be that I don’t want him seducing her with the right combination of words. If there’s one thing succubi are good at, it’s stoking the fires of whatever sin they feed on. They whisper into the ears of warmongers or stroke the fragile egos of kings. I can see Kas promising Minerva he’dbe gentle unless she asked otherwise.
“She summoned me to make a deal. Sign a contract.”
“Ah.” Kas nods. “That old song and dance. So what’s the deal?”
“You think you’re privy to my private affairs? I would never share the details of my contracts.”
Looking through the mirror I see him raise a brow. I try to focus on myself, still becoming accustomed to this form. I was warned devils took on lesser forms when pulled into the mortal plane, but I didn’t expect my form would beso short.
Kas keeps talking. “Youwouldn’tshare, would you? Sounds like you’ve never made a pact with a mortal before.”
I grind my teeth, feeling foolish for being so obvious.
Kas approaches me, clapping a golden hand onto my shoulder. “Isn’t that sweet. Minerva will be your first!”
“I don’t want a contract with her,” I clarify. “Her demands are frivolous, and her voice is fucking annoying.” Kas tilts his head as if he isn’t convinced. “Power is something she lacks. She’s a little stuck up witch. Why should I submit to her just because she summoned me here?”
“Tell you what. Fuck Minnie. I can gather my fellow succubi, and we can help you find the perfect candidate to sign a contract.” The attendant from before walks back into the room with a rack full of clothes. I expect Kas to stall the conversation but he keeps going. “They’ll know someone willing to give up their soul for the right price. Everyone has their price.”
The attendant sets aside some clothes before turning to me. “Which would you like to try on first, sir?”
I look at the outfits, immediately drawn to one the exact shade of gray as burnt bone. I snap and point. “That one.”
The clothing gives me a sharp, rectangular shape. A crisp white shirt that buttons all the way up to my collar suffocates me, and I’m wearing one too many layers. The attendant wraps another piece of fabric around my neck. My fists clench, and I want nothing more than to punch him as he ties the snake-like threads tight around my neck–some sort of mortal torture device.
“Hm, maybe without the red tie,” Kas muses behind me. His hand rests atop his chin. “Too obvious, plus it clashes with your eyes.”
“Get me out of this thing,” I grumble. “I feel like I’m wearing an iron maiden.”
