Just one problem. Having heard of their decision to spill her blood, Ashley had decided to ruin it. She gave her virginity to Herman Juxtapose, which canceled out her ability to be offered up. It was kind of amusing that her parents and their cult friends had spent years grooming her for that moment, and she managed to ruin it in thirty-four seconds.
A mumble of protest from behind the tight gag drew her attention. Her captive tried to wiggle free.
“I wouldn’t bother. I learned the Shibari Magical Knot pattern from an expert.” She’d had extensive studies when it came to the magical arts.
The body thrashed and mumbled some more.
A frowned creased her brow for only a moment. She smoothed it quickly. Wouldn’t want to encourage wrinkles. “That is quite enough,” she intoned in a soft yet firm voice. “While I applaud your impatience in wanting to turn yourself in to the proper authorities, it will have to wait until I am done with my lunch.”
She drew out a cloth from her pocket and set it on a crate, the surface rose under the fabric to just the right height.
The hanging body complained some more.
“Did you know,” she said, pulling out a small tripod that stretched as it snapped into shape, forming a stool, “that dietary experts recommend eating at the same time every day so as to keep our body humors in balance?”
Her captive, Bracuus Notail, escaped resident of Hell, glared.
“Perhaps had you followed a more cohesive eating pattern, you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble.”
His eyes widened in derision, and Bracuus snorted from behind the gag. A criminal through and through, who couldn’t grasp the bad life choices he’d made—starting with skipping breakfast she’d wager. To compound his ill manners, he seemed intent on ruining her appetite.
As if she’d let that happen.
She flicked her fingers, and the bound Bracuus lifted from the floor and flipped upside down. She lifted him high above, dangling him from the rafters. Bracuus might be a demon, but on the Earth plane, they were susceptible to harm.
She pulled out her Bento box containing her lunch, everything packed in its little compartment. No junk food for her. She retrieved her napkin-wrapped utensils. Laid everything out and readied to eat.
Heard some whining from above. She twirled her hand and let Bracuus plunge a few feet.
Things got quiet after that. Perched on her stool, she ate her rice, then her protein, followed by her fruit. While daintily eating her berries, she occasionally flicked her fingers, spinning her prey lest he become complacent.
She drank from the water bottle she’d filled just that morning.
When done, she packed her things away inside her pocket that actually existed on a different plane. It had cost her more than she liked at a bazaar in Jersey, but it proved handy.
Once she’d tidied her things, she glanced around the warehouse and grimaced. It never failed. Those skirting the law always chose to hide themselves in the dirtiest locales. She’d never understand why, though. Just because they owned an evil gene didn’t mean they needed to live like pigs.
Look at her. A witch in the service of the Dark Lord, and you could eat off every single floor in her house.
Pity she didn’t get more choice in which jobs she was assigned. It would have been nice to have the liberty of selecting more sanitary conditions. However, she comforted herself that each misbehaving bounty taken into custody cleaned up her city—and the money was good.
Glancing down, she noticed a speck of dirt on her white slacks. That wouldn’t do. She flicked it with magic, then, using a magical tether, began dragging her prey behind her. She’d drop him off at the OAB—Office for Abnormal Beings—on Fourth Street, then head to the salon for a pedicure.
A plan ruined as a familiar smell stopped her. Brimstone could only mean one person.
Ashely turned and arched a brow. “You. Long time, no see.”
The Devil, his hair trimmed short and hinting of silver at the temples, scowled. “I see you are still disrespecting me.”
Her lips curved. “If you wanted respect, you would shave regularly and wear the right clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” he blustered.
She eyed him. His green pinstriped suit. The yellow shirt, the flamingo tie, and matching socks peeking at his ankles. His spats were green. “Did you dress yourself in the dark?”
Lucifer huffed, smoke curling from his nostrils. “I didn’t come here for criticism.”
“Obviously you did, or you’d have dressed better. I assume you’re here for my target.” She yanked the bound demon close.
Lucifer grumbled. “Bracuus! Again! No going to jail this time. Straight to the latrines for you.” He pointed, and her target was gone.
She frowned. “This still better count at the OAB.” Only confirmed captures got the bonuses. “I’ve got my eye on a new Dyson vacuum. You should think about getting one. And a new dry cleaner.”
“My creases are perfect!” Lucifer huffed.
“If you say so.” She crossed her arms. “Are we done?”
“No.”
“Then can you get to the reason you’re interfering with my evening?” She hadn’t seen the Devil in years. Not since his relationship with Mother Nature meant no more naked bonfires. No more orgies—not that Ashley participated. All that icky sweat and body fluids. Gross.
“I’ve come to collect on the terms of our contract. Namely, it’s time for you to give me your firstborn child.”
Ashley blinked innocently at the Devil. “Excuse me?”
“Section eight, paragraph B.” The Devil pulled out the scroll with the original contract. It spun out, several feet in length with tight, inked writing—and her signature in blood at the bottom. The Dark Lord pointed.
But she didn’t need to look. She knew which clause he spoke of. The one she never planned to fulfill.
“Afraid I don’t have a child to give you.”
“Then make one.”
“Would you accept a golem?”
“No!” the Dark Lord exclaimed. “Make a baby.”
“With who? I’m not in a relationship.”
“Who says you need to be? Just have sex. Preferably with a citizen of my kingdom.” He smiled with a few too many teeth.
“I’d rather not. Have a child, that is.” Slobbery, dirty things. She couldn’t help grimacing.
“Do you like being alive?”
“You can’t kill me for refusing. The contract says I will give you a child or be sent to Hell when I die.”
“Exactly.”
“Which I accept. I’ll see you in Hell when I’m dead.”
“If you insist.” Fire formed in his hand, and she gasped.
“You’d murder me?”
“Without a second thought. I’m the Devil. The one you signed a contract with, promising me a child.”
She stalled. “To do what with exactly? Eat?”
He recoiled. “What kind of savage are you? Of course, not for eating.”
“Then why do you want a baby from me?”
“Because the Devil can’t have too many minions. Dark times are coming. Dark, dark times that will require a legion like we haven’t seen since Heaven and Hell last went to war.”