17 Carpe Natem

Lily

A hand waved in Lily’s face, the woman so mad she was nearly spitting.

“Are you listening? This is the problem with your generation, you all think that you’re the center of the universe, that your feelings matter more than your job. In my day—”

“When dinosaurs roamed the earth,” Lily said mildly.

The woman gasped so hard that she choked. “How dare you?”

Lily considered that, leaning back in her chair. “Honestly? I never gave much thought as to ‘how.’ It just kinda happens. The gift of sass, I suppose.”

“You can’t just say things like that! What is wrong with you?”

“We’re dead and staring eternity in the face, and we still don’t have time to answer that question,” Lily drawled. “Well, we do , but I don’t want to waste all that time.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” the woman hissed.

“I’ve been told it’s one of my best features. Level Three. Quietly.” Lily pointed to the line, putting every bit of steel she could muster into her stare.

The woman stomped away, rushing past Crocell and another demon without even looking at them. Crocell shot Lily a thumbs-up before sauntering along the line, whistling a jaunty tune.

Her phone lit up. She smiled, wondering if Siedah was ready for that cup of coffee after a busy few days.

Bel’s contact picture, one she’d snapped of him a week earlier, popped up next to a text message. He’d been sneaking a cluster of grapes out of the fruit bowl in the breakroom, and had turned with his mouth full when he’d heard the laugh she hadn’t been able to smother. The picture caught him mid-turn, grapes in hand, looking about as guilty as a person could look.

It made her smile every time she saw it.

Bel of the Ball: WE’VE GOT PIE BABY!

Beneath the text was a picture of a truly mouthwatering pie that she half imagined she could still see steaming. Since there were no souls in line, she bolted for the elevator so fast she left her office chair spinning at her desk.

Bel sent directions to his office while the elevator carried her down to the Admin Level, but she couldn’t help but pause when she stepped out. The stone streets of the small city were immaculately clean, lined with beds of flowers that glowed in a kaleidoscope of bioluminescence. The buildings were all in the demonic style, a hybrid of Gothic and art nouveau, with glorious panels of stained glass; frescoes in bold, rich colors; and sculptures unlike anything she’d ever seen. Demons who walked from place to place obviously didn’t have the same concerns for practical attire that the demons at the gate did, their fashions ranging from modern, mortal-style attire to elegant, flowing robes, and everything in between. Much less humanoid beings moved about as well. A towering being that seemed to be made of stone hunched over a phone that was proportional to their size, but still looked like a pain to text on. A female demon wearing a power suit walked a hellhound the size of a pony on a leash, the hellhound’s double tails wagging furiously as they passed by.

Lily checked her directions and followed the street, fascinated by everything and silently promising herself to explore the residential levels of Hell more. A male demon with wings like Bel’s was crouched down and talking to a child. His child, if their similar coloring and features were anything to go by. The child’s watery eyes and wobbling lip were explained by the scuff on their elbow that their father was examining.

“Did you feel what went wrong?”

“I lost the air.” The child sniffed.

“Yep, it’s scary when that happens, huh? You did a good job recovering, buddy. See, when you bank too hard when you’re going slow, there’s not enough air moving over your wings to keep you up,” the father explained gently. He reached back to hold the child’s wings out in a specific position. “So, when you hold your wings like this…”

Their conversation faded away as she walked, but the smile that had found its way to her face remained.

Cute. Like learning to ride a bike.

She checked her phone against the name of the building in front of her, then slid it into her pocket, confident she’d be able to find his office from there. Her confidence evaporated the second she set foot inside and realized the scale of the building.

“Well fuck.” She reached for her phone again.

“Can I help you?” a male demon asked coolly. He was built similarly to Gregorith, though slightly more wiry, with rich, olive-green skin that shimmered under the lights. Burnt-orange eyes squinted at her with obvious suspicion. His horns were simple and goatlike, a bit like Bel’s, but wrapped in smooth leather. She’d learned from conversations that horn fashion wasn’t an indicator of status or position, simply a matter of personal preference.

“Hi.” She smiled. “I’m looking for Bel’s office?”

The demon drew himself up, expression cooling further. “It is of utmost importance that we do not sully our working spaces with sex. It is disrespectful to our stations and our neighbors, not to mention that it would be highly distracting for someone whose focus is required on more pressing events.”

Lily’s mouth moved before she knew what would come out of it. “Well, fucking Bel wasn’t on the to-do list, but I suppose it’ll have to be now.”

Shit. Well, that was…something to say.

The demon’s mouth dropped open.

She winced. “I’m sorry, still in work mode. Smartassery has been the name of the game all day. I’m not here to, uh… sully anyone’s workspace. I’m just here to visit a friend. I’m Lily.” She held out her hand as a peace offering.

The demon stared at her hand, then at her face, then back at her hand. His handshake was firm. “The famous Lily.”

Famous?

“My name is Leviathan, Prince of Hell, but you may call me Lev. Your work at the gate seems to have had a demonstrable effect on the efficiency of the Soul Management System. Would you mind typing up a report?”

“Uh, I don’t know about typing up a report, but I’d be happy to chat about it sometime. Or you’re welcome to come up and see for yourself. You might notice or understand things that I don’t, and we can talk about any questions you might come up with.”

Lev frowned. “All I want is a brief overview of your established method. I understand from our management meetings that your methods differ from standard procedure, but you must have a clearly defined protocol. The changes that you have made have been wholly positively received on the administrative side, that…doesn’t just…happen.”

“Sorry, Lev.” Lily smiled, fighting the urge to squirm. “I’m pretty casual. I didn’t think it through beyond what my experience taught me and what I noticed. I acted on a hunch, and it happened to work. There’s no set method. Every soul is different. Some need sass, some need—or more accurately deserve —a little smack. Some just need a little help. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific than that.”

Lev furrowed his perfect eyebrows and considered her for a long moment. “I suppose…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind. I would like to observe your process sometime though. I hope to find it enlightening.”

“Anytime. Now, Bel’s office is...?”

“Oh, stairs.” He pointed to the sweeping main staircase. “Top floor, turn left, two doors down.”

She thanked him, boots thudding dully on the polished black stone. Bel’s explanation of how the title of prince worked in Hell made the dichotomy of personality between Lev and Asmodeus slightly less jarring. As she understood it, Lucifer was like a CEO, and the princes were more specialized in their responsibilities, therefore allowing someone like Asmodeus to have equal, if different, responsibilities than Lev. The soul levels of Hell apparently worked on a similar principle, though the master of each level was more akin to a regional manager. She still had a bit of trouble thinking of Asmodeus and Lev as equal in responsibility.

Any lingering concern she had about the validity of Lev’s directions was washed away by the names and titles carved into each door.

She raised her fist to knock, then paused, reading the door in its entirety.

Prince Beleth

General, 85 Legions

Every thought eddied out of her head. She read it again. A sticky note was pasted to the door just below the carving, the words in elegant script.

Pari Passu

She took a deep breath.

Flying off the handle never solved anything nor did anyone any good. She knocked.

Bel’s “Come in,” was muffled.

She swung open the door and went inside, momentarily distracted by the sensation that she’d entered a small castle. To her left, Bel sat at a massive desk on a dais, in front of a series of floor-to-ceiling windows framed with luxurious charcoal drapes. The seriousness dropped from his features as he grinned and reached for a box sitting on his desk.

“Well, I have no idea what ‘pari passu’ means,” Lily said lightly, strolling towards him, “but I do know what ‘prince’ means.”

Bel froze.

Oh, she hated it.

Hated the way the happiness bled out of his expression, the way tension snaked into every line of his body. Especially hated the flicker of some awful, deep hurt in those eyes. His hand fell to the desk, short of the pie box.

For the first time since she’d met him, Bel’s eyes dropped away from hers to stare at the desk, jaw clenched.

Lily stepped onto the dais and rounded his desk to stand beside him. He still wouldn’t look at her.

He should have felt dangerous. With his size and a physique built and honed for combat clearly humming with tension, she should have wanted to put distance between them. But she didn’t.

Lily wasn’t afraid of Bel. He’d never hurt her.

She studied him again. He didn’t seem angry. He seemed…ashamed. For lying or for something else?

She stepped closer, careful not to brush his rigid wings.

“Bel?” she said softly, irritation evaporating.

He swallowed hard and kept looking at the desk.

She didn’t know why she did it. Perhaps because it just felt right. Perhaps because she knew they both liked touch, and she always craved the grounding of physical contact in those moments when she felt lost or out of control.

She gently cradled his jaw with one hand, the dull little spikes on his chin pressing into her palm, and turned his face toward her.

His skin was warm, noticeably warmer than hers, and smooth. Soft. His pulse hammered in his throat, against her fingers. His head turned without resistance, breath hitching slightly before his eyes turned as well and met hers.

So beautiful, his eyes.

Something in her chest tweaked.

“Talk to me,” she murmured, running her thumb over his cheek. His lashes, longer and thicker than any man’s had a right to be, dipped slightly.

“I’m sorry. It was a lie of omission,” he rasped.

“Okay.” She kept tracing her thumb over his cheek. “Why?”

“I…” His breathing went a bit ragged, eyes darting around her face. “I’m not proud of it. I hate the way that it makes me feel.”

She waited.

“It’s not mine. I did nothing to earn it, it shouldn’t even be mine, but…it doesn’t mean anything to me. Not like being a general. I earned that. That matters.” It came out of him in a rush.

Gentle. She reminded herself. Bel, seemingly indestructible, cheerful Bel, needed her to be gentle.

“Why doesn’t it mean anything? If it shouldn’t be yours, then why is it?” She kept her tone quiet, stroking her thumb over his skin, noting the coiling tension humming through his body.

His jaw tightened under her hand. “Because. It’s essentially a useless title. A formality. Just a reminder that…just a reminder.” His tone had grown harsher, the look in his eyes one she recognized. Somehow, she was skating close to a wound he wasn’t ready or able to face yet. She saw that expression in the mirror every day. She felt that rawness whenever someone brought up a topic a little too close to home.

Raw. Exposed. That’s how he had to be feeling.

The silence between them stretched.

Ah, fuck.

Ignoring the part of her that screamed to not let anyone in, not let anyone see, she sucked in a deep, bracing breath, and spoke. “I died fairly young, at thirty-four. From cancer.”

Bel blinked, harshness evaporating in an instant. His heavy brows furrowed as he waited.

Her throat tightened and she dropped her hand to her side, palm tingling with residual warmth from his skin. His much larger hand wrapped around hers as it dangled at her side.

“The cancer itself wasn’t my fault.” She couldn’t help a bitter laugh. It wasn’t, but everything else was. Her failings clawed at her throat, threatening to strangle her from the inside out. “But I could have done things in my life differently. I could have been more responsible in my spending or job choices instead of doing things because they were fun or enjoyable. My choices meant that I didn’t have the resources to take care of myself when it mattered. That I didn’t have options. This—” She tapped her silent chest with her free hand. “This is a constant reminder of that, and sometimes I hate the way it makes me feel too.”

Bel’s eyes widened in understanding, then softened. His thumb traced over the delicate skin of her wrist, the lines of her tattoos there. Every synapse in her brain zeroed in on that touch. Clung to it.

Her lungs loosened enough to take a full breath.

Bel nodded. She nodded back in a silent agreement to move past the moment.

“‘Pari passu’ means ‘on equal footing’ or ‘in equal step,’” he said. “It’s my mother’s motto. It’s a running joke with everyone to put different mottos on my door because I never chose one. She stopped by yesterday and put it there.”

Lily squeezed his hand. “I might have to make my contribution before I leave.”

“Oh?”

“It’ll be a surprise. I don’t know how to say ‘Bel lies about the quality of pie’ in Latin, so you’d better be telling the truth about how good this pie is.”

“Princess, I never lie about the quality of pie.” He reached for the box again and cracked open the lid, releasing a waft of fresh, warm, delicious pastry and sweet blackberries. “Besides, our mottos don’t have to be in Latin. Asmodeus never bothered to translate his.”

“What is it?”

“‘For hearth and home.’ Now, do you want to eat right out of the box?”

Lily gave his hand a squeeze, hurrying over to the kitchenette in the corner to retrieve plates and forks. Bel cut them each a generous slice and guided her off of the dais.

“These couches are pretty great,” Lily said, bouncing on her cushion. Bel settled next to her, handing her a plate and draping his wings over the specially designed low back.

“Cheers, princess,” he said, holding up his fork. She clinked it with hers and scooped up a piece of pie. The flavors burst over her tongue in waves, sweet with the perfect touch of tartness, hints of warm spices, perfectly buttery and flaky pastry.

She and Bel moaned in unison, and she tipped her head back, letting the dessert perfection soothe the ragged edges of her emotions.

“Holy shit, that is…” She took another mouthful and hummed again.

“Right?” Bel said around his fork. “I told you Morgen’s pies are worth committing atrocities for.”

“Why has she not been made into a goddess? Goddess of Pie. I’d take up religion again to worship her. Every day. Wholeheartedly.”

“I’ll mention it again at the next meeting.”

Lily sighed, mouth full of possibly the best pie ever made. “If we keep this up, Lev’s gonna think I lied and we’re actually having sex in your office.”

Bel coughed and jerked upright. “What?” He gasped, then coughed again.

“If you choke on this pie, I’ll finish your slice and then call for help.” Lily warned. “I ran into Lev—Leviathan—in the lobby; he thought I was lost. I asked him for directions to your office, and he told me that ‘it’s very important that we do not defile our offices with sex because it’s disrespectful to our neighbors,’ or something along those lines.” She shook her head and dug into her rapidly disappearing slice.

Bel laughed so hard he had to set his plate on the seat next to him. “Of course he did, the bastard. What did you say?”

“How do you know I said anything?”

Bel leveled her a bemused look.

The blush spread up her neck, across her face, and up her ears. She pointedly gathered up crumbs with her fork.

“Lily,” Bel teased, leaning against her shoulder. “Come on, princess, what did you say? Am I going to get another sexy memo from Lev?”

“I told him,” Lily said primly, focusing on her pie, “that fucking you wasn’t on my to-do list, but it would have to be now.”

There was a beat of silence, then Bel howled.

“It was a reflex,” she said, fighting back her own laughter.

Bel laughed harder, lying back, hands pressed to his face, legs curled up as his whole body shook with mirth. Lily couldn’t help it, she laughed with him. They laughed until tears streamed from their eyes and her lungs ached.

“He’s gonna—” Bel giggled, wiping his eyes. “He’s gonna come into my office with a blacklight.”

“If he’s coming into your office, then he’s part of the problem.” Lily cackled, and off they went again.

* * *

The pie was nearly gone. They had each flopped on a couch, Lily on her back, Bel on his stomach, pushing the pie box back and forth as they chatted about less sensitive topics.

“So, what exactly is wing etiquette? Because I googled it—or whatever the search engine is—and I got a whole lot on the care and keeping of pet birds, and the general rule of ‘do not touch the wings,’ which I get. I saw a dad and his kid on the way here, though, and it looked like it was okay for the dad to touch to correct his form.” Lily pushed the pie box back to him.

Bel stretched his wings out with a leathery rustle, and the one nearest her flared wide enough that he could have laid the tip over her. The light filtered through the membrane, delineating the bones, warming the black with shades of gray and purple and cream. She propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look. It looked incredibly strong, and as if it might be slightly velvety. He half folded it again and draped it on the ground.

“Not touching is a good rule for the masses. Different areas are more acceptable than others. The top edge for example, where we brush against things when they’re folded, that’s more of a friends and family area. We don’t tend to let that touch linger. It’s a brush or a pat, something brief, you know? The claw”—he gestured to the black spike at the apex of his wing before pushing the pie box back over—“that’s the least sensitive. We can grab that and yank each other around with no problem. If you have to touch a wing, try the claw. Everything else is…intensely personal, essentially for committed lovers only. The inside edge, where they join our backs is, by far, the most sensitive.”

She’d touched him there. Entirely by accident that first time they’d met in person. The mortification was present but had lessened with time. But now, just now, she remembered his sharp intake of breath and wondered what it would be like for him to invite her to touch him there intentionally. What his wings would feel like under her hands. What noises would he make if she ran her hands over those sensitive, forbidden parts of his wings? Would he gasp? Groan? Growl into her neck, those fangs raking delicately over her skin?

Her skin heated as she looked away from his wings and met his eyes. He was silent, lips slightly parted, as if he was also remembering that accidental touch, or perhaps wondering about the same thing. Her breath hitched. The silence stretched, his eyes dropping to her lips.

Then he looked away and cleared his throat. “Now you know. So if and when Lev accuses you of fucking in my office, you’ll know what to tell him to make him believe you.”

His voice was a bit deeper than usual, and Lily fought to plaster a cocky grin on her flaming face. “I’ll tell him you put on a milkmaid outfit and mooed like a cow when you climaxed.”

There. A joke.

Safer territory.

Bel huffed a laugh and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I’ll tell him you spanked me like a pro and couldn’t get off unless you spoke in a French accent.”

Lily arched an eyebrow and rolled onto her side. “I’ll tell him you expressed a fetish for memos about being told not to have sex in your office.”

“I’ll tell him you had to inspect my toes before you even considered seeing me naked.”

“I’ll tell him you’re sexually attracted to beans.”

“I’ll tell him—fuck.” Bel scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I get the sense that would have the same effect, honestly.” Lily scooped up another forkful of pie. “He was a bit uptight, but nice enough. He asked me to write a report on the Hellp Desk.”

“He did not,” Bel said incredulously.

“He did.” Lily pushed the box back. “I told him no. I haven’t had to write a full procedural report since I was in my twenties. I said he’s welcome to stop by and observe any time. Does he have a sense of humor?”

“A bit, why?”

Lily tapped her bottom lip with her fork. “I don’t know if he’s going to think the name of the desk is all that funny if he’s super into professionalism. I think it’s a stroke of genius, but Lev might think I just had a stroke.”

Bel laughed. He had such a great laugh.

“Puns, like dad jokes and dirty jokes, are peak humor. Lev is very literal, so he might get it immediately, but if he doesn’t and you take the time to explain things to him, he’ll get it.”

Lily adjusted her position, groaning as the full and glorious impact of eating half an incredible pie hit her system. “I would say that I’m pleasantly full.”

“Mm, ‘pleasant’ seems like an insult to that pie.”

She hummed in agreement just as her phone chirped. “Oh, sweet.”

Bel gave an inquisitive grunt.

“Siedah wants to get together for coffee tomorrow. I’ve been looking forward to that.” She sighed and eased herself up. “I should probably get going. The line hasn’t been too bad today, but you never know when a really annoying one is going to come through. How’s work been for you?”

“Not as relaxed as I’d like it to be. Nothing serious has happened yet, but I’m a little on edge about it,” Bel said.

Curiosity nibbled at her, but he didn’t offer more. She wasn’t sure if she should or shouldn’t ask and decided that he’d share more when he needed or wanted to. He pushed to his feet, taking her plate and cleaning up their mess. Lily snagged a pen and a sticky note, scribbling out some of the only Latin she knew and tucked it into the side pocket of her leggings.

“Thanks, big guy,” she said, walking into his arms for a hug. His warm, musky scent enveloped her like a second embrace. She held him a little longer, a little tighter, an apology and support.

He rested his cheek on top of her head. “We’re here for each other, princess. And thank you .”

She gave him a little squeeze, definitely didn’t sneak a quick inhale, and shot him a wink before walking out the door, pausing only to put the new sticky note over the old one.

* * *

Lily panted, pressing her hand to the stitch in her side and leaning back against her desk as a pair of demons dragged the kicking serial killer away.

“So much pie… so fucking worth it,” she gasped, squinting at her phone and grinning when she saw the picture of Bel and the grapes.

Bel of the Ball: What does ‘carpe natem’ mean?

Flower Power : It means ‘seize the butt cheek’ or ‘seize the ass’

Bel of the Ball: HAHAHAHAHAHA!