2. The Passing Through Cafe

Chapter two

The Passing Through Cafe

The inside of the cafe was homey and quaint, even if the decor was a tad jarring. It looked like a purple bathbomb had exploded over the walls and countertops. Gauzy, periwinkle curtains framed the windows, and even the tables and chairs were purple, several shades darker than the lavender paint on the walls.

Soft demon rock music played over the speakers, and someone was singing along from farther back in the building—the kitchen, maybe? Most of the tables were claimed, and a few demons stood at one end of the vast counter as they waited on their drinks.

At Oliver's entrance, nearly every soul in the place turned toward him, stares catching and sticking to him. A rush of warmth flooded his face and neck at the attention, but he resisted the desire to curl in on himself. He had every right to be here, same as the demons, right?

After a beat of awkward silence that seemed to stretch, he squared his shoulders and walked across the galaxy epoxy floor to the counter. An extremely tall demon worked feverishly at the espresso machine, his—six?—arms moving in fluid but hard to track motions. His torso was long and thin, three sets of spindly arms sprouting from his sides at segmented joints. Each forearm was covered with short, black and red striped fur from elbow to wrist.

The bottom two arms were grinding coffee beans and stamping the espresso into a portafilter. The middle set was busy steaming milk, and the top pair of arms, which were slightly shorter than the others, were pouring ingredients into a blender while also topping a Frappuccino with whipped cream.

And all the while, the spidery demon was carrying on a conversation with a patron waiting on their drinks. He smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth and two longer, sharper fangs. His skin was dark gray, accented with bright red swirls disappearing under his clothes. His black curls also sported red streaks, the color gleaming under the lights.

Eight eyes swiveled around inside his head, seemingly independent of each other. The two large ones were front and center on his face, dark and iridescent like an oil slick with bright red pupils. Framing each one in the shape of a crescent moon were three smaller, beadier, solid red eyes that blinked discordantly.

He was a spider, Oliver realized. Humanoid in an uncanny-valley sort of way, but still a fucking spider.

Oliver swallowed thickly, trying not to stare as he came to a stop at the register. The spider demon glanced his way briefly with one smaller eye, offering a friendly grin as he said in a femme lilt, "Willow will be right with you, sweet cheeks."

"No rush," Oliver said, and the demon winked at him. Well, one of his large, iridescent eyes winked. The rest of his eyes continued to move around, focusing on the different activities his six hands were executing simultaneously.

The second demon behind the counter was—judging from her coarse, brown skin and vines of ivy hair tumbling down her back—a Dryad. Her mossy eyes were soft and kind, and she offered Oliver a shy smile as she rose from where she'd been crouched behind the pastry display case. The leaves of her hair rustled as she came to a stop behind the register.

"Hello," she said in a gentle voice, like an easy spring breeze. "How can I help you?"

Scanning the boards on the wall behind the Dryad—Willow?—Oliver searched the list for something familiar. When his eyes caught on the word, "cappuccino," he relaxed slightly.

"A cappuccino would be great. And maybe something sweet from the bakery case. It's been a really rough day."

Willow's large eyes turned mournful, and she nodded empathetically. "Yeah, it has, hasn't it?"

Touched at the genuine sympathy in her gaze, Oliver swallowed thickly. "It really has. I could use a brownie."

To Oliver's horror, Willow's eyes watered, her hands fisting in the loose fabric of her summer dress. "Oh no! I just sold the last brownie."

"That's okay," he rushed out. "I can—"

"It's not okay," Willow choked out as a tear trickled down her rough cheek. "You just wanted something small to help with the soul-crushing disappointment. And now, it's just another thing lost."

Oliver glanced around the cafe in panic as he attempted to console the suddenly weeping Dryad. "Really, it's no problem."

"We don't even have any chocolate cake left," she cried.

"Willow, babe?" the spider demon shot them a concerned look. "You good?"

"We don't have any brownies left, Gem! And all he wanted was one tiny solace in his otherwise terrible life," she wailed.

Oliver's shoulders rose to his ears as, once again, everyone's attention turned to him. "My life's not that bad," he said to no one in particular.

"But it is!" Willow insisted. "The disappointment. The resignation that there's nothing else you can do but give up. It's debilitating!"

"What the fuck is happening?" Oliver whispered. He'd just wanted a coffee, not to get psycho-analyzed by an unstable tree!

"Okay," the spider demon, still multi-tasking behind the espresso machine, said in a manically cheery voice. "Willow, maybe it's time you took your break. Go outside. Get some fresh air and sunshine. Soak your roots a bit?"

Willow nodded, gathering the excess fabric at her flat chest to dab at her eyes. "I just wish we had more brownies for him. It's the only hope he has now."

"It's really not," Oliver said, even though no one was listening to him anyway.

With one last mournful cry, Willow rounded the counter and headed down a hallway, disappearing behind one of the doors. A dry, feminine voice said, "Willow, what the fuck?" before the door shut, cutting off whatever Willow was going to say in response.

Oliver considered just cutting his losses and leaving the cafe empty-handed, but the spider—Gem, Willow had called him—spoke before he could make his escape. "Sorry, about… just give me a second, okay?"

"Sure," Oliver murmured.

A moment later, a swinging door that Oliver assumed led to the kitchen opened and a humanoid raccoon walked in on two legs. Well, he had a similar pattern to his fur as a raccoon, but instead of being shades of black and gray, he was a surprisingly cute mix of pinks. He had a bushy ringed tail and dark pink fur surrounding his pale pink—nearly colorless—eyes like a mask.

Two mauve, clawed hands typed away on a phone as his fuzzy ears twitched, and Oliver had to swallow the "aww" wanting to crawl its way up his throat. The pink raccoon demon was adorable, and he wanted to jump over the counter and squish him. He didn't, knowing it was entirely inappropriate—not to mention, most likely offensive in the furry, demon community.

The raccoon demon wore a black cut-off t-shirt that revealed the barest hint of his chubby, pink belly, with the words, "F*ck the Man" printed across the chest, and a pair of baggy black jeans. He was barefoot, his clawed paws clicking against the floor as he walked.

Without looking up from his phone, the demon slouched against the back counter sink, black-painted claws clack, clack, clacking against his screen. Gem shot him a glare, then cleared his throat noisily. The pink demon didn't respond.

With a roll of all eight eyes, Gem said, "Rusty!"

The pink demon glanced up with a bored expression on his inhuman face. "What?" he drawled in a husky monotone.

Pointing at Oliver with one of their many hands, Gem hissed, "Customer!"

For the first time, the raccoon demon looked Oliver's way. He blinked at him, giving Oliver a cursory, unimpressed once-over, before shrugging off the back counter with a long-suffering sigh.

"Where's Willow?" Rusty demanded.

"Crying. Again," Gem said as he slid three drinks over the counter. "I told her to take a break. So help the human, would ya?"

Like a petulant child, Rusty made a rude face at the back of the spider demon's head before pinning Oliver with a blank expression. "Well," he said expectantly, "what do you want?"

"Uh," Oliver started.

"Unholy hell, Rus," Gem lamented, one long arm reaching out to smack Rusty's arm. "Can you at least try to be personable for three seconds? Quin's gonna fire your ass if you insult another customer today."

With a not-so-subtle wave of his middle finger—claw—at the other demon, Rusty turned his attention back to Oliver and bared his sharp canines in what Oliver took as an attempt at a smile. It looked more threatening than friendly.

"You know what you want yet?" he said through his teeth.

"Cursed deity, do I have to do everything myself?" Placing another four drinks on the counter, Gem used his other two hands to shoo Rusty away from the register.

The raccoon demon went willingly, pulling out his phone again.

Leaning onto the counter, Gem offered Oliver a friendly, borderline flirtatious smile. "Hey, honey cakes. Ignore Rusty. He's just full of teenage angst and woe today."

"I'm twenty-four!" Rusty snarled, whiskers twitching madly.

"Exactly," Gem snapped back. "Which makes your teenage angst even more embarrassing for everyone. Now make yourself useful and clean the tables!"

Oliver half-expected the two demons to start throwing hands, but Rusty simply snorted—angstily—and did as he was told. Shoulders relaxing, Gem beamed down at Oliver again, two of his right arms reaching out to empty the portafilter and wipe up a spill of milk with a towel.

"Anyway, I'm Gemae. Gem, if you're nasty. What can I get you?"

Overwhelmed, Oliver moved his mouth wordlessly, gaze jumping between the eight eyes that all blinked in a wave from left to right.

"Just pick one, babe," Gem said, propping his shortest arms on the counter and lacing his fingers as the middle set of arms hovered over the register, at the ready to start typing. "You're gonna give me a migraine if you keep jumping between eyes."

"Shit, sorry," Oliver said, embarrassment flushing his face again.

"First time through the veil?" Gem asked, not unkindly.

"That obvious?"

He shrugged. "Only a little. Don't sweat it."

With a strangled chuckle, Oliver ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, then gestured to the hallway Willow had disappeared down. "Is she gonna be okay? I didn't mean—"

"Oh, Willow will be fine. She's just… sensitive. You know how Dryads are."

Oliver didn't actually know how Dryads were, but he didn't want Gem to know exactly how uneducated he was when it came to Hell and the demons who lived here.

"Right," he said instead.

"Oh, before I forget, Rusty insisted I announce to every customer that we did not, in fact, coordinate our shirts today," Gem said with a flat look at the pink demon wiping down tables.

Oliver glanced down at Gem's tank top which read, "I'm the Man!" then to Rusty's, "F*ck the Man" cut-off. He snorted. Gem grinned. Without looking up from the table he was cleaning, Rusty lifted his middle finger over his shoulder.

"It would have been funnier if you had coordinated," Oliver said

"That's what I said! Everyone else thought it was hysterical," Gem exclaimed, throwing two of his hands up. "But Rusty said it made him want to go on a rampage, and we don't want that to happen." Gem's smile dropped, his voice turning ominous. "Not again."

"What?" Oliver said in alarm.

Shaking his head, Gem beamed down at him. "Anyway, what can I get you?"

"Um, can I get a cappuccino?"

Gem's fingers flew over the register screen. "Of course, babe. You want something from the bakery case? It's on the house." Another flirty wink. "You know, for all the drama. I'd say it's never like this, but that'd be a lie."

This time, Oliver's laugh was more genuine. "Eh, what's life without a little drama?"

"Ugh, you say that now. You don't have to work with these freaks every day."

Rusty made a disgruntled noise. Gem blew him a kiss, then waggled his brows at Oliver, including him in the joke.

Side-stepping to the bakery case, Gem tapped the top with one hand as another hand slid the door open. "Take your pick, handsome."

"If anyone's getting fired, it's you," Rusty grumbled as he made his way back behind the counter. "For sexually harassing the customers."

"It's playful flirting," Gem dismissed with a wave of yet another hand. "No one takes it seriously."

Rusty's ears twitched, but he didn't respond verbally.

Oliver studied the bakery items, most of them with foreign names and ingredients native to Hell. The card advertising "Human Brownies" stood beside an empty tray, just as Willow had claimed, but there were a few other human baked goods for sale, like chocolate chip cookies and caramel blondies.

Wanting to be adventurous, he pointed to a muffin-looking thing with red berries inside. "What's that?"

"Kiriberry," Gem said. "They come from the vineyards of Gluttony. They're kind of sour, but in a good way."

"Okay, I'll try one of those."

"Good choice." Gem crouched down, and Oliver got his first good look at Gem's long, fuzzy legs. What he'd first thought were leg warmers covering Gem's calves from his knees to his boots was actually downy fur striped with black and red, like the fur on his forearms.

Now that Oliver had a clear view of Gems' bottom half through the display glass, he realized just how… thicc the demon actually was. He had a very generous, round ass and full thighs that slimmed down slightly when they reached the downy fuzz on his calves. He wondered if Gem had cute, little spider paws or if his feet resembled something more humanoid.

Not that Gem's body parts were any of Oliver's business. He felt like a creep even thinking about it and forced his thoughts to safer territory. Like just how tall the demon was.

When Gem straightened to his full height and handed the muffin over the top of the case, Oliver had to tilt his head back to retain eye contact. At five foot eleven, he wasn't used to looking up to that many people, but Gem must have been at least seven feet tall with how much the demon loomed over him.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'll get that cappuccino made." Gem strode purposefully to the espresso machine, passing Rusty and running his top hand over his furry head. "Can you finish ringing him up?"

"Fine." Rusty smacked Gem's hand away, but Oliver caught the way his ears fluttered and his tail lifted slightly at the contact. Maybe furry demons did like being pet?

After paying, Oliver slipped a generous tip into the tip jar, earning a suspicious eyebrow arch from Rusty. More customers had drifted in, queuing up behind Oliver, so he made his way to the other end of the counter to wait for his drink. He bit into the muffin and nearly groaned in delight.

It was moist without being heavy, and the sweetness of the cake married with the tartness of the kiriberries perfectly. It reminded him of cranberries, but with the consistency of a raspberry. It might have been the best muffin he'd ever eaten.

"Holy shit, this is so good."

"Nothing in here is holy," Gem chimed over the noise of the milk steamer. "But I'll make sure Glyma knows. She'll be tickled pink—er, more purple?" A furrow appeared between his largest eyes before he shrugged. "You know what I mean."

Since Gem seemed open to chat, Oliver propped his hip against the counter and spoke around another bite of muffin. "Is Glyma the baker?"

"And owner," Gem said, his many arms already working on more drinks than just Oliver's. "Well, she and Quin own the cafe together, but it's really Glyma's baby. Quin does all the back office stuff. She's a Daemon from Greed, so she's got a head for business, you know?

"Which is lucky for Glyma, because while she's good at coming up with ideas, she's not… savvy the way Quin is." Gem leaned closer, dropping the volume of his voice. "Don't tell her I said that."

Oliver swallowed his last bite of muffin with a grin. "Your secret's safe with me."

"You're pretty cool for a human. Not that I know many. You lot don't come around much, and when you do, you're usually getting all sloppy in Gluttony, you know?"

Another wave of embarrassment washed over him at the reminder that his only other experience in Hell had been exactly that. Sloppy drunk in Gluttony where he may or may not have hooked up with a possibly tentacled demon. Yeah, he was glad he'd forgotten the majority of that night.

"Well, Hell is kind of intimidating," Oliver eventually said. "I mean, most people here look like they could eat me."

At that, Gem laughed loudly up at the ceiling. "Gross! We don't eat humans. We're civilized bitches down here." He hesitated, expression turning contemplative. "Well, most of us are civilized and wouldn't eat a human. Just don't wander around the shittier parts of the Pentagram alone after dark, okay?"

"I probably won't be coming back anytime soon, so no worries there."

Gem handed over his cappuccino in a to-go cup. "That so? What brought you here today then?"

At the reminder, Oliver grimaced. "Job interview in Greed. But I missed my train. Well, the first train was cancelled and then the second train was delayed. Or at least, they announced that it was delayed, but then it ended up leaving anyway, and I missed it." He slumped lower against the counter, thumb rubbing over the lip of the lid. "Needless to say, I didn't get the job."

"Damn, that sucks. No wonder you threw Willow into a crisis."

"I didn't mean to! I don't even know what I did."

Lifting a free hand, Gem chuckled. "I know. It wasn't your fault, not really. She's a Dryad. They tend to be… sensitive to people's moods. Willow spirals, like, fifty times a day."

"That must be exhausting for her." Oliver glanced down the hallway leading to the bathrooms and whatever room Willow had taken refuge in. "Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bum her out."

"She's literally the nicest person you'll ever meet. She won't hold it against you, I promise. But," Gem added as he shook a can of whipped cream, "that's nice of you to say. Most people just tell her to get over herself."

Unsure what to say to that, Oliver brought his coffee to his lips and took a sip. It was creamy, the coffee beans roasted to perfection. He sighed.

"This might be the best cappuccino I've ever had."

Gem's cheeks darkened a shade, and he ran a hand through his red-streaked hair. "Psh, now you're just flattering me."

Checking his watch, Oliver tightened his grip on his briefcase—the empty one he'd brought in hopes it made him look more professional—and tipped his coffee cup at Gem.

"I gotta catch my train back to Chicago. Thanks for the coffee. And the muffin."

"Anytime. Oh, wait—" Gem called out before Oliver had even taken two steps toward the door.

He turned around to face the spider demon. "Yeah?"

"I didn't catch your name."

It wasn't a question, but Oliver answered as if it was. "I'm Oliver."

Gem grinned, flashing sharp fangs. "Oliver. Suits you."

He motioned Oliver back over, several hands continuing their work behind the espresso machine as he leaned over the counter conspiratorially. How he managed to do that without burning himself, Oliver would never know.

"If you're still wanting a job, we're hiring. It's no fancy Greed district job, but the pay is decent and the people…" he drifted off, iridescent eyes shooting toward Rusty and Willow, who had just appeared in the mouth of the hallway looking serene and happy once more. "Well, we're rough around the edges, but we don't bite. Unless you ask us to."

When Gem winked one large eye, Oliver laughed. "You sure I'd have a shot at working here? I'm human."

Gem blew a noisy raspberry. "We're not speciesist. You might get shit from customers now and then, but just tell Quin and she'll stab them with her pitchfork."

"She has a pitchfork?"

Shrugging noncommittally, Gem returned to his spot behind the machine, turning on the milk steamer. "Just think about it, okay? It might be fun having a human around."

"You seem set," Oliver said, nodding at Willow taking Rusty's spot at the register so Rusty could box up a pastry order.

"Well, Willow's been wanting to apprentice with Glyma in the back. She's great with customers, but it's really overwhelming for her empath side. Glyma would have moved her to the kitchen ages ago, but as fabulous as I am at multi-tasking, I can't do everything, and Rusty's shit with people, the emo little prick."

Like Rusty could hear Gem's words, his furry ears swiveled a moment before he shot Gem a glare. Gem pretended to focus on the design he was drawing in the milk foam with two hands while the other four wiped up spilled coffee, prepared fresh espresso, and steamed more milk.

"So having another person to work the front would allow Willow to finally start baking with Glyma." Gem looked Oliver up and down. "You're cute, so you'll get tips, and as long as you have better people skills than Rusty, you won't get fired."

"I can hear you, asshole," Rusty hissed.

"Oh, bite me," Gem snapped back while he pulled his phone out of his short's pocket. He typed without looking before offering the phone to Oliver. "Add your number. I'll talk to Glyma and text you if she wants to meet."

Hesitantly, he took Gem's phone and stared down at the open contact screen. "Ollie the Human" had been typed into the name field. He glanced between Gem and the phone.

"Why are you doing this?"

Gem met Oliver's gaze and offered him a sincere smile. "I have good instincts about people, and my gut tells me you'd fit in just fine here."

Oliver's thumb hovered over Gem's screen as his mind raced. It wasn't like he had anything to lose. He was days away from packing up his life and moving back to Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana. And when would he get another opportunity to work in Hell? And he'd be working with an eclectic group of demons, one of which may or may not have had a pitchfork for murdering disrespectful customers!

It wasn't the job he'd come here for, but maybe it was the job he needed.

"What the hell," he said with a shrug and typed his number into Gem's phone.

"That's the spirit." Taking back his phone and slipping it into his back pocket with one of his lower arms, Gem offered his middle one, hand in a fist. "See you around, Ollie the human."

Oliver knocked his knuckles against Gem's fuzzy ones. "See you around, Gem the spider."

"I'm an Araknis," he corrected, "not whatever you just called me."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Oliver sputtered, but Gem was already waving off the apology.

"No biggie. You're just so K.O. it's adorable."

Checking his watch again, Oliver backed toward the door. "You're the second person to call me that today. What does K.O. mean?"

With a snicker, Gem made a shooing motion with one of his hands. "Come in for an interview and maybe I'll tell you."

"I'll hold you to it," Oliver warned.

"I hope so." Picking up five coffee cups, Gem turned toward the waiting demons. "Who the fuck ordered five warm milks? You know you can warm your own milk at home for free, right? Stop wasting my time!"

Feeling a million times better than when he'd walked into the cafe thirty minutes prior, Oliver jogged over the teal sand as the burning blue sun lowered toward the horizon, disappearing behind the DDMV. The line there was still out the door.