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Luc

“ N ew batch is in, boss man.”

Luc looked up to see the captain of his guard standing in front of his desk, runic symbols glowing on his alabaster skin, which was exposed from the waist up. A permanent scowl was etched into his forehead and his leathery black wings were scraping the marble floor as he twitched impatiently.

“Already?” Luc asked, hooking a claw into the chain of a silver pocket watch and pulling it out of his leather pants to check the time.

“Right on time, as usual.” Zorun pulled a thin black blade from his belt and used it to scratch between his shoulder blades. “I could send Tana to handle them. She’s been itching to scream at some new people. I think the current lot just got used to it, and they’re not cowering in fear anymore. It pisses her off.”

“I hate pissed-off Tana as much as anyone.” Luc chuckled. “But this place is getting overcrowded, and I want to be there to make sure there’s no issues with the newbies.”

He shoved some papers into a binder and wiggled it between several others on an overstuffed shelf. It dislodged a good number of precariously placed binders and sent them tumbling to the ground, papers flying everywhere. He sighed and looked at the shelf, the number of documents on it making him break out in hives. They were sticking out everywhere, spilling over, crumpled and messy. He was pretty sure the alphabetical order was all fucked up, and his dream of having them categorized by sin was long dead.

He shuffled around his messy desk, looking for the colored sticky notes and his clipboard. He found them lodged beneath his desk leg for some reason.

He looked up at Zorun, who shrugged and said, “The desk was wobbly.”

“So you decided my clipboard was the perfect fix?”

“I couldn’t find the forms to order a new one. And we’re not up for regular furniture upgrades for another century or so.”

Luc pinched the bridge of his nose with the tips of his claws. They immediately pricked his skin, so he pulled his hand back. He yanked the clipboard out from under the desk, which slumped like a drunken uncle without its support, and stuffed the sticky notes into the pockets of his leather coat as he walked to the door.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, rounding the corner into a hallway that led from his office to the main lobby, where orientation took place and their abandoned reception desk was located.

His footsteps echoed off the floor, the usually polished black marble covered with a thin layer of grime. The small streams of lava that usually ran down the rough walls were barely visible under the accumulated rock and dust. The place looked grimmer than ever before.

Luc tried to ignore it as best as he could.

He focused on not getting his wings caught against the protruding stones in the hallway that was always too narrow for his bulk—his plans to get them widened always got delayed by one disaster or another. It had been centuries, but he still refused to walk sideways. It was entirely undignified.

The chaos of his workplace continued to jump out with every foot of distance: mountains of mess, broken furniture along the walls, piles of paper stuffed everywhere, and what looked like miles of tape keeping several boxes from disintegrating into thin air.

“How long has it been since the last cleanup?” Luc asked a trailing Zorun.

“’Bout a millennium, I’d say. Not too bad.”

“Not too… For fuck’s sake,” Luc muttered, wanting to figure the mess out but aware that it wasn’t a priority at the moment.

The newcomers were.

They reached the massive gates leading into Hell’s main lobby. They were carved from the same black marble the floors were made of, but the shapes of human bones and mouths stretched in silent screams made them look threatening. A gigantic statue of a horned demon spread its arms and wings out to frame the doors, ruby eyes glowing and making the shadows look longer and darker.

Luc walked through the door with Zorun, coming out into a wide, echoing hallway lined with tombstones. He spread his wings, happy to be in a space he fit in, rather than squished between walls like prey.

They arrived in the main lobby and the mayhem and the screams settled some of the anguish Luc had been feeling. He did love the smell of fear early in the morning.

Luc glanced from the empty reception desk covered in cobwebs to the huddled group of people shivering and whimpering as they watched his guards circle them, making sure they caused no trouble. The demons were clearly having a field day with it. They had their most terrifying postures on display: claws, wings, beaks, and whatever else had been given to them shining for everyone to see. It was impressive.

“All right.” Luc walked over, making sure his wings were spread wide and casting shadows around him as he moved. They made for a great entrance, and he liked theatrics more than he was willing to admit.

His leather coat billowed behind him, his dark yellow eyes shining. He waited for all the sinning souls to have their eyes on him before running his forked tongue over his bottom lip, making them freeze in fear. A wicked smile painted his features as he took a deep breath and the lights in the room dimmed.

The shadows grew longer and the air thickened as a chill fog wrapped around their ankles. Prickles broke out on their skin, and their faces froze in silent shock when the aura around Luc turned a deep red—the color of blood, of terror, of sin. He cast his gaze around the room, passing it over every single one of them before speaking.

“Welcome to Hell!” His voice boomed, the deep bass tone making the ground beneath their feet rumble and shake. Luc knew they could feel it in their bones. “You all know why you’re here, so we won’t waste a lot of time explaining. You’ve been very, very naughty in your lives, and now you get to spend the rest of eternity here. With me.”

He watched them take in his words, horror painted on their faces, screams echoing around the room as they shuffled farther away from him, the ones at the front clearly wishing they could just sink into the ground and disappear.

“No need to be shy. I’m not gonna hurt you,” Luc cooed. He gave them a few precious moments to relax a tiny bit before grinning. “I have people for that.”

He turned to Zorun to see if he liked the joke but got nothing but an eye roll from his second-in-command.

Rude.

“Okay, we need to be fast and organized.” Luc dropped the act, waving the clipboard and his colorful sticky notes in the air. “You’ll be divided by sin and sent with your group leader to the appropriate level. Your pain tolerance assessment starts in half an hour. You’ll be tested for various forms of torture, and then the most suitable one will be chosen for you. If you disagree with your torture method, you can fill out a form and appeal within two weeks. You will be reassessed if need be.”

He walked over to the crowd, who were still shivering and watching him with fearful eyes. He knew they were confused, but they’d get over it soon. Once the torture began, they all found their footing and knew their schedules, so they settled in easier. The first day was always the hardest, especially since their numbers had started growing. Luc had no idea what was happening with the world, but if it continued, he’d absolutely have to talk with Upstairs about some extensions to his space.

“All right, I want all the adulterers over here by that pillar. Kassel is your group leader. The purple one with the eyes. Kassel, please wave so they can see you. You will be Team Green for the orientation,” Luc said, watching them shuffle silently past toward Kassel, who had waved once, his array of multicolored eyes blinking languidly.

Luc reached out and stuck green sticky notes on the adulterers’ shirts as they passed, feeling them flinch when he touched them.

“Thieves, you’ll be Team Red. Azoth and Tarik are your group leaders, over there. No, you’re not seeing double. They’re twins.” His words were broken up by the high-pitched whistle Tarik let out to let them know where to go. Several of them kept checking their pockets with one hand while simultaneously reaching into others’ pockets to steal whatever they had on them.

Luc didn’t bother to tell them they hadn’t brought anything but the clothes on their backs. And even those wouldn’t last very long. The fires of Hell were no joke.

He shook his head and continued dividing the groups, breaking up a few fights and raising his voice to quiet down a few of the chattier ones in the murderers’ group. They were always the most annoying to him. Something about their constant excuses grated on his nerves.

When all the groups were standing where they were supposed to, color-coded and matched with their group leaders, Luc smiled and put the clipboard down.

“Okay, great. Good job, everyone,” he said. “I know this is all confusing and weird, but if you listen to your group leaders and follow instructions, you should have no issues fitting in. After all, these are your people here. You’ll be escorted to your rooms now to get settled in, and you’ll get a schedule for the rest of your eternity here. We’ll make sure it’s never boring. Thank you for your attention and have a pleasant stay.”

He clapped once then looked at Zorun.

“That went well, I think,” he said. He was turning to leave when Zorun cleared his throat.

“Um, boss?”

Luc looked over his shoulder. “Hm?”

He followed the tilt of Zorun’s four horns to the middle of the lobby, where a tiny figure stood all alone, looking at everything and everyone with bewilderment.

He looked young. Messy honey-blond hair floated around his ears and neck, and huge green eyes framed with thick, dark glasses took everything around him in with a slight gape on his lips. He was slim and short, and he kept his arms wrapped around his torso as he stood frozen in place. His pale blue slacks were tight around his thighs and paired with a darker blue shirt, a yellow blazer, and a blue-and-yellow checked bowtie. He looked like a ball of cotton candy. A very shocked, very out-of-place ball of cotton candy.

Luc had to admit that even after an eternity in Hell, he had never thought of any human who’d come there as cute. But pits of hell was this man cute. Luc didn’t usually go for that vanilla human vibe, but he couldn’t deny the stirring of interest way down south that urged him to take that small body and see just how they could fit together.

Luc bet he would stretch juuuust right.

He cast his mind away from the sinful thoughts, more pressing matters taking precedence. Like why the human was still there at all.

Luc walked over slowly, a frown on his face as he stared down at the young man.

“Why are you still standing there?”

The man blinked up at him, craning his neck to account for the height difference between them. The top of his head barely reached the middle of Luc’s chest, which didn’t help the whole ‘wanting to fuck him right on the spot’ predicament. It just gave Luc even more interesting ideas for positions.

“Um…” the human said, his voice cracking and words getting lodged in his throat as he stared up at Luc in awe. Luc had been on the receiving end of those sorts of looks for centuries—a sprinkle of fear mixed into a cocktail of horniness.

Luc had never felt even slightly tempted to respond before. He’d never had to fight for professionalism. He was the boss of Hell, for Heaven’s sake.

“Name?” Luc asked, trying to get something out of the man.

The human shook himself out of his stupor and held out his hand to Luc. “Oren.”

“Okay, Oren, hi. I’m Luc,” he said, indulging in the silly little human display of politeness and reaching out a clawed hand to engulf Oren’s with it. His skin was warm to the touch, his palm tiny and fragile in Luc’s hold. “Why aren’t you with your group?”

Oren kept the grip on Luc’s hand firm, looking around at the clusters of people huddled together, waiting to be led to their rooms.

“I… I don’t have one?” He looked up at Luc, clearly confused. “I don’t think I missed any of them. Adulterers, thieves, traitors…” He ticked off the groups, looking at each one as he did, his memory clearly impeccable. He got to the final group then looked up again. “I’m not any of those things.”

Luc boomed with laughter, letting go of his hand and finally breaking the contact between them.

“Ah,” he said. “We haven’t had one of you in a while. Everyone, we have an innocent soul on our hands!”

His words halted the slow shuffle of people and prompted a cacophony of laughter and slurs thrown Oren’s way as his demons mocked his delusion of being an innocent in Hell.

“Thank you for the laugh. You can shack up with the liars,” Luc said, grabbing a yellow sticky note and pressing it to Oren’s chest. “Just follow Tana’s screeching and you’ll catch up.”

The note rustled softly for a second before it flickered and burst into flames, leaving a small hole in Oren’s jacket.

Oren looked down at his chest and frowned, bottom lip sticking out in a pout Luc absolutely didn’t find hot as fuck.

“This is a new blazer,” Oren said. “It’s my first time wearing it, and you burned it.”

He poked the hole with his finger, his wide eyes filled with disappointment. Luc on the other hand stared at the hole in confusion, grabbing another note and sticking it on, only to have it combust again, leaving a second hole.

“Hey!” Oren said, but Luc couldn’t really pay too much attention.

“Right,” Luc said, having absolutely zero idea what he was supposed to do. If Oren said he was innocent and the sticky note designated to liars agreed… what in Uriel’s asshole was going on? “Clearly not a liar then.”

“What the fuck?” Zorun echoed Luc’s thoughts.

“I have no idea.” Luc sighed, long and hard. “But we will get to the bottom of this. Everyone, to your levels. You, with me.”

He ushered Oren back to his office, Zorun following slowly, wings dragging behind him like a mobile sweeper.

He pushed the door open and groaned when it got stuck on something. He shoved harder and realized that during his short absence, the entire shelf behind his desk had collapsed, sending thousands of papers and files like an avalanche toward the door.

“Fuck today,” he whispered under his breath, using his booted feet to create a path between the papers from the door to his desk, and his tail to keep the path clear for Oren, who shuffled behind him.

He practically threw himself into his chair, irritated steam pouring off him, and pointed to the chair on the other side of his desk for Oren. “Have a seat.”

It wasn’t really a request.

Oren did as told anyway, looking around with wide eyes, curling his upper lip slightly at the mess.

“It’s been a bit chaotic here lately,” Luc said.

“A bit?” Oren said sarcastically before slapping a hand over his lips, eyes snapping back to Luc. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Luc chuckled. “Place desperately needs some organizing and I haven’t had the time recently.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long is recently?” Oren asked, voice quiet but determined.

“An eon or two.”

“Or three…” Zorun said from the doorway, where he was lounging against the wall and playing with his knife again.

Oren turned to look at him, nodding in understanding as if it made perfect sense.

“Beside the point now,” Luc said. “We need to figure out how you got here. So, let’s start with some simple things. How did you die?”

“Oh…” Oren balked at the question. “That’s simple? I thought, like… favorite color or something.”

“Not really relevant here, hon,” Luc said.

“Yeah, guess not.” Oren sighed, then straightened. “I was born with a heart condition. Always knew I wouldn’t live very long.”

Luc exchanged another ‘what in the seven circles’ look with Zorun. The man had lived his life with a very short expiration date, done nothing wrong, and ended up in Hell. Something didn’t add up.

“Can you remember anything, anything at all, that might have gotten you here?” Luc asked.

Oren scrunched his eyebrows up, thinking hard. He was silent for a few very long moments before his eyes widened again and he stared at Luc.

“Oh no…” he said. “I took office supplies from work a few times. Like… pens and staplers and paperclips. And a glue stick. Maybe two.”

Luc stared at him.

“Three?” Oren added.

“Yeah, hon, we’re currently not tending to office supply hoarders, so I don’t think that’s it. Anything else?”

“Not really.” Oren squinted through his glasses. “Do you have, like… maybe a list of sins? An inventory? I could look at it and it might jog my memory?”

“If you have to think this hard, I doubt you did anything that would get you here,” Luc said with another sigh and the beginnings of a headache building. “Okay, well, nothing else to do but call Upstairs and check with them.”

Luc tried digging his phone out from under a pile of stuff on his desk. It sent some of the items sliding, and Oren jumped to catch a little pen holder before it clattered to the ground.

“Pretty sure this place violates several safety codes,” he said under his breath, biting his lip as if he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Luc said, still amused by the mix of innocence and outright sass. “The Upstairs is spotless and follows safety codes perfectly. You’ll love it.”

“What is that?” Oren asked. “The Upstairs.”

“Heaven, hon.” Luc dialed their internal number. “Since you’re not on our list, you’re on theirs, and someone will be coming to pick you up soon.”

“Oh.”

Just then, the ringing stopped and Luc’s call was answered.

“Pete, my man, how are you?” Luc said.

Peter chuckled over the sound of the celestial chorus playing in the background. It never failed to give Luc a migraine. “Pretty good. You?”

Luc smiled. “I’m okay, but we have a bit of an issue here.”

“Oh?” There was a sound of rustling papers, and the live elevator music cut off instantly.

“We had a new group coming in today, and after sorting them all out, we have someone who doesn’t belong and isn’t on our list,” Luc said. “Figured he must be one of yours who got lost on the way.”

“First time for everything, I guess,” Peter said. “What’s his name?”

“Oren…” He looked at Oren to get a last name.

“Gallagher,” Oren said, and Luc repeated it into the phone.

“Hmm…” Luc heard the papers shuffling again and rolled his eyes at the thought of Peter and his perfectly organized lists. Ass. “Nope. We don’t have an Oren Gallagher either.”

“Great, then I’ll—” Luc started before the words really registered. “Wait… what?”

“He’s not one of ours,” Peter said.

“Not even on the waitlist?”

“Nope.”

“What the fuck?” Luc said for the tenth time that day.

“Language,” Peter said.

“Can I talk to the Big Guy?” Luc said, ignoring his censure. “This is clearly above our pay grade.”

“I’ll let him know to call you as soon as he’s back.”

“Where the Hell is he?” Luc asked.

“Watching the Olympics. You know how it gets with prayers around this time, and ice-skating is first on the program. He hasn’t slept in days.”

“Shit,” Luc said, getting reprimanded again swiftly. “Just… tell him to call me as soon as he can.”

“Will do. Have a celestially wonderful day,” Peter said before hanging up.

Luc put the phone down and looked at Oren, who was blinking those wide green eyes at him.

“Well, I have bad news and… more bad news,” Luc said.

“I’ll take the bad news then,” Oren said.

Luc admired his composure in the face of it all.

“Apparently, you’re not on their list either. And the Big Guy won’t be back for another couple of weeks at least.”

“So…?” Oren looked confused.

Luc pinched the bridge of his nose again. “We’ll have to find a spot for you while we figure out what to do.”

Luc held Oren’s stare as best as he could, which was hard because a wild binder chose that moment to slide from a file cabinet to his right and smacked him right in the head.

Seriously.

Fuck today.