4

Beelzebub

The anniversary of our intimacy should've ended with me taking Walter home and bedding him, getting my dick wet, and plowing him throughout the night. Instead, it was ruined by the Fae. What should've been a night of Walter rambling about the joyful experience he had observing the Fae and sharing all his annoying theories turned into a discussion on the grand opportunity he'd been given, reasons we should consider it, and how inconsiderate I'd acted by taking the offer from him. What he considered an overreaction to my misunderstanding pissed me off more than the damn Fae who'd snatched him away to begin with.

Unable to sleep, I stayed awake on the couch watching angry wives drink and scream and scheme, babbling about the import of their lives. Their pettiness delighted me, and I took a bit of satisfaction that their loud voices on high volume gave Walter a restless night, too.

I glared at the glint of the golden letters on the card. Destroying it didn't work. It reappeared to Walter upon our return home, refusing disposal until Walter alone officially accepted or rejected the offer. Tricky Fae magics. So, I did the sensible thing and kept it within my reach on the coffee table, out of his grasp.

"Did you seriously have to watch that all night?" he asked, groggy and surly. "Maybe we can have a real conversation about the offer today. You know, instead of you shooting me down every time I attempt to bring it up."

"I have never once shot you." Tempting as that was, given his attitude.

He huffed and walked from the bedroom through the three-foot length of space he dared call a hallway that led directly to our kitchen-dining room combo in this open-floored humble home.

I wanted something more spacious since we would remain stuck in this tiny town for the foreseeable future thanks to the freelance work we'd gained through Mora's connections, but Walter claimed this fit our budget. He glamoured the renters into overlooking a background check, forgoing deposits, and accepting a month-to-month cash payment lease when he could've easily used that charmed magic to sweet talk us into something more accommodating. But oh no, he put his foot down and demanded a low profile.

So if he got to make grand declarations on what we could and couldn't do, then so could I, which was why I made it clear he wouldn't accept the Fae's offer.

"There's no coffee?" he asked with aggravation in his gravelly voice. The first cup would remove the gravel, but I was certain the spite would remain.

I slurped the rest of my cup. "Nope. Fresh out."

"Real mature."

"Perhaps your fairy friend has coffee." Perhaps he had better coffee, too. We were all out of sugar. Coffee was only ever good when made with sweet and bitter in equal measures.

"I don't understand why you're being so difficult about this." He went to make a new pot. "I know things got off on the wrong foot—"

"There is no correct foot for abduction."

"How many times do I have to explain? It wasn't exactly an abduction, per se. In fact, it's common practice for the Fae to see something or someone they like and snatch them from our realm. It's just how they do things. Had I been less surprised by being grabbed for a friendly conversation, I would've remembered that fact."

"I don't care about the semantics behind Fae customs where they declare abduction a form of conversation or courtship."

"Courtship?" Walter scoffed. "Please tell me this isn't some misplaced jealousy."

I scowled. I wasn't jealous. Walter was mine, and I was his, and I held zero concern of another lesser, far more inadequate lover attempting anything to come between us. That said, I didn't like the pheromones wafting from that Fae as he studied Walter. I didn't trust the Fae.

"The so-called job offer is nothing more than a ploy." I pointed to the television when Sandra came back onto the screen. "Television, freeze. Freeze, I said." I grumbled and retrieved the clicker to freeze the screen as Sandra's face went blurry mid-image. "Take Sandra, for instance. She has offered her best friend an opportunity to go into a business venture with her, some pyramid tactic meant to deceive simpler mortals, but in truth, Sandra only wishes to lure Monique into a false sense of security so she can uncover her secrets and exploit them because Monique…well, that's a much longer story, but she is a wicked siren—actually a harpy I think, great glamour to keep the mortals unaware—not the point, which is Sandra is luring—"

"Are you seriously using daytime television to teach me some lesson on manipulation?" Walter huffed.

"The point," I continued, "is this offer is a trap."

"If he meant to harm me, he could've done so immediately. He could've killed me, killed you. Simply not returned me to our plane of reality when I asked. Why do all that?"

"It's called the long con, Walter. I can go back to season seven's origins if you wish to see when Sandra's machinations began."

"This is a great opportunity to take my work and my abilities to the next level. Practitioner level. You said you wanted more of that for me."

"I do. Not with someone who clearly has no interest in you, though." I stared, considering carefully, but Walter needed this bubble of delusion popped. "He's only interested in you because of me. This con is meant to harm me."

"Of course, because it couldn't possibly be about me." Walter sighed, his heart thumping hard and blood coursing faster. In part, the fury probably came as an extension of my own, but the sadness weighing heavy on him—that was all him. Sorrow I'd etched by being what he considered as unreasonable.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the performance," I said, upset I'd hurt him and upset I'd allowed some Fae to drive us into conflict through his manipulative ego-stroking. "I'm glad you can take pride in the attention others have noted of your talented work. You are talented, the most studious mage I have ever met. But I am uncomfortable with you taking this offer."

"Because you don't trust I can take care of myself. Because you think I'll just walk directly into an obvious trap."

"No."

"Yes, even though it's been my judgment, my caution that's kept our profile low the last six months, my decisions that have led to zero traps—don't you dare bring up the gremlin faux pas—so why can't you trust my judgment now?"

"I do trust you and your choices." I clenched my teeth, swallowing the rage I had and the guilt from Wally's sadness. "I don't trust the Fae. They are shifty. Imbued with greater magic than any other Mythics, more pompous than mages, as cunning as Diabolics, and far too many unknown factors for my liking. There are few things in this realm I lack insight on—"

"Oh, please." Wally poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the gravel in his voice fading simply from the first inhale. "You can't even figure out how Instagram works. Clearly, you lack insight on more than you realize."

"Algorithms are dumb," I snapped before composing myself.

"Speaking of insight and bizarre introductions, we didn't exactly get off on the right foot."

True. It was my left that kicked him down the stairs and pinned him to the floor of the Magus Estate. I smirked. We did have unique circumstances, and I was certain he tried to rationalize our connection, our outcome, into the factors he played in his head when planning for things. Like risks. Which this was.

"I trust your judgment," I said. "Always have. Always will. I simply wish you would trust mine."

"Fine." Wally sulked, dragging his slippers with each step back to the bedroom.

"Do you wish to talk more?"

"Nope. I need to get back to freelance gigs. Lots of super fun work to get through."

I sat in silence, keeping the screen frozen on Sandra's face and listening to the intensive notes Wally scribbled, providing highly detailed backgrounds on items that would, in turn, be pedaled for far higher sums than we'd be compensated given the amount of effort he put into all his labors.

I wanted him happy, wanted him to treasure his work like he once had, but I refused to budge on this Fae nonsense. Obvious trap.

My telephone buzzed, and I ignored it. Few had my phone number, yet unknown mortals found it all the time, wishing to discuss my expired warranty or someone warning me of tax evasion that the IRS sought, which required I send them currency immediately through something called a money order. Fuck the mortal government. They could fight me over their pennies.

The incessant thing persisted. I huffed, contemplating disturbing Wally, as only he knew how to use the magics of the apps to block unwanted callers. It'd be easier to just break the damned thing, but Wally was already mad at me, and I'd already gone through a half-dozen telephones. Apparently, this thing cost a lot, which was absurd for a fruit, one made of metal or not.

It wasn't some unknown caller—it was worse.

Mora. And she sought to video call me from the glow of the screen request.

I dragged my finger along the wiggling answer prompt four times before the FaceTime thing activated.

"Bezzy," she said as she moved about Mercury's Marketplace. Snippets of shop signs revealed themselves during her strut through the street.

"Why do you insist on calling me every time you are out and about?"

"I'm a busy person. Not all of us can sit at home most days relying on our mortal partner to do the heavy career lifting."

I growled and went to hit the red end button.

"I'm teasing." She lifted the phone to greet me with a coy smile, always something wicked hidden in her eyes even when playing.

"What do you want, Mora?"

"Checking in. How'd the evening go? Was Wally in awe? Was he captivated? Was he ever so grateful he decided to relive the event which created such a lovely anniversary?"

"I'm not telling you the details of our evening. I'm not one to kiss and tell."

"You've answered your phone while in the throes of passion twice; surely you can tell me how your date went. I'm curious."

I furrowed my brow. No, she wasn't. Mora rarely showed an interest in the play-by-play of my romance. She wanted to fish for details on the Fae Divinity.

"It was interesting," I said. "Fluttering Fae, bewitched mortals, Wally got a job offer, the flight was relaxing, no Collective presence, I stopped for—"

"A job offer?" Mora interjected, as suspected. "Quite exciting. Doing what exactly?"

What was she up to?

"Nothing." I shrugged. "He declined, preferring the flexibility of working with your illustrious clientele."

"I'd hardly call them illustrious; irksome, entitled, incompetent, annoying… But I digress." Mora moved the camera of her telephone to her soft smile, positioning herself somewhere secluded where the sun didn't hit. "This sounds like a wonderful opportunity for Wally. One he shouldn't pass on."

"That's what you said about selling those petrified gremlins, and I'm still cleaning slime off my suits from that botched venture."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Bezzy."

"We have plenty of other ventures to explore. We'll gain through those." I clicked the red button. "Goodbye, Mora."

"Wait."

I clicked the red button again. Dammit. "Telephone off."

"Listen to me." She moved closer, like making direct eye contact would somehow hold my attention.

"Off telephone." These things were so much easier to handle when they had hook switches to slam.

"Diabolics have been going missing as of late," Mora said, all the playful banter lost from her voice. "Mostly younger demons, but enough for the news to travel."

"What the fuck do I care about missing Diabolics?" I pushed the red button again but somehow pulled up photos I'd taken, or the ones taken by my pocket most days.

"Rumor has it, a group of Fae was seen in Bael's realm wrangling lesser demons," she said her devil's name with contempt. This must be serious since Mora despised all things in relation to her Hell dimension nearly as much as I did my own. "Everyone knows Bael's a boring, lazy ole devil who leaves his doors open for his demons to come and go as we wish, but how'd Fae find their way through? Under his nose? Undetected?"

"Okay. The Fae is controlling demons to jump realms. You suspect the one running last night's performance?"

I knew he was foul. If he dabbled in Diabolic bonds, then chances were, his only intent of grabbing Wally was to determine the strength in our bond, how to fracture it, and possibly claim a devil for himself. Undoubtedly. I'd learned all too well that fools who didn't fear devils sought to control them in one form or another. The arrogance.

"Why not just kill him and leave me out of your plots?" I asked.

"It's not that simple."

"Dear Mora, don't tell me you're concerning yourself with the lives of whichever demons were pathetic enough to end up bound to some snooty Fae nobleman?" I snickered. "Fine. Being ever the gracious friend, I'll kill him and his little Fae entourage on your behalf."

Wally couldn't fault me for that. After all, he trusted Mora's judgment for work, so obviously, this was a rational, well-thought plan.

"It's more than that," Mora said because it could never be simple. "No one can contain more than one demon's essence in them without succumbing to illness and death. More to the point, no demon, commanded or not, can walk through a barrier leading into a Hell realm, especially bringing someone not of a Diabolic nature through. Bael might leave the door open, but it's still too intense for Mythics or mortals to cross the dimensional threshold."

I sat in contemplation, watching the inquisitive playfulness cross Mora's face once more, returning true to form.

"How's this Fae getting himself and a horde of fairies through? What's he planning? And Bezzy, the question I'm most curious about is if he's found ways for Mythics to cross open doors to Hell, how long before he'll find a way to unlock closed Hell realms?"

My chest tightened, mind jumping in a thousand directions. I dropped the phone as Mora prattled on about hypothetical questions I didn't fucking care about. She knew it, too. She'd struck a chord with one already.

What would happen if some Fae entered Beelzebub's realm? The true Beelzebub. Could they enter it? Would they find an enraged devil who awaited a chance to leap out of his realm to retrieve his missing essence? Essence I stole. Would they find a collection of reigning demon lords ruling in the devil's stead? Demons I abandoned. Would it be a mere abyss of ruin indicating a devil's demise?

Any of those would expose my false identity, revealing I'd taken on the guise of Beelzebub to ensure I never needed to fear threats from anyone. This could compromise my safety. Wally's safety. The Collective didn't like us skirting their rules, but they avoided us as much as we avoided them. Safer all around. They didn't want a wrathful devil to contend with, but if they knew I was nothing but a phony, feeble demon, they'd hunt Wally and me to the ends of the world. This one or any other we escaped into.

"Bez. Bez. Bezzy," Mora called out, her voice becoming shriller with each shout of my name. "Are you even listening to me?"

I retrieved my phone, glaring at her.

"Why Wally?" A ridiculous question. It was because of me. This Fae likely sought the essence of a devil to assist in his scheme for tearing through dimensional realms. He'd end up sorely disappointed if harnessing my essence was a required ingredient to unlocking closed doorways.

"I'd have sent Kell—tried to, in fact, but Baron Novus is extremely picky in the lesser beings he works with. Extensive research, consideration, long waits that can last the better part of a century just for him to reject someone for a position. But rumor has it, the noble has some hard-on for Walter Alden. Apparently, a lot of Fae do since your little mage is all the buzz among their Court right now. Their equivalent of fifteen minutes of socialite fame or whatever." Mora shrugged. "Point is, Wally is in."

"No." I clamped my jaw.

"You should be proud. I'd be honored if the Fae looked at Kell in such a way."

"Before or after you ripped out someone's eyes?"

"Never. Anyone is welcome to admire Kell's beauty. It's their tongues I take when their mouths overstep with flattery." Mora grinned, mischievous as always. "Let Wally take the job. He can snoop about and discreetly find intel. Once we know how it's done and if he's shared this knowledge with others, then we can kill him. Heck, I'll even let you have the honor, Bezzy."

If I did nothing, I'd ensure Wally's safety from this sinister Fae. But I'd risk an arrogant Mythic learning how to navigate the realms of Diabolics, something that shouldn't be possible, which could unravel my secrets.

Fuck.

"I should've known your interest in my anniversary had a nefarious plot behind it."

"That's unfair," Mora said with a dramatic, whiny lilt. "I love love and wish you many more celebrations. In fact, I've heard about—"

I hit the red button, and it obeyed the swipe of my finger, hanging up on Mora. I had no time for her if I was meant to make a decision, either of which could endanger Wally and myself.

All knew me as the devil Beelzebub, and I couldn't afford some pompous Fae to uncover or unlock anything that indicated otherwise.

I closed my eyes and lay back on the couch. Unraveling my essence, I sent my mind to traverse in an astral sense, mentally plucking at the strings connecting realms while keeping part of my essence anchored to my physical form. The Fae weren't the only beings capable of traveling through the blackness of space between time and reality, though I had no intention of actually tearing dimensional walls apart. I merely sought to observe the barren roads leading to otherworldly doorways. Ignoring the rhythms of other lesser worlds, Fae realities, and countless possibilities, I searched for tethers that led to locked doors of infinite Hell realms until I found the one I wanted—Beelzebub's Hell. It remained sealed, far off and mostly forgotten as I hoped it always would.

When I first arrived in the mortal realm, I regularly checked for the possibility of his Hell opening again. It took years to learn he'd never be able to open his door, given the piece of him I'd escaped with. Whether out of paranoia or curiosity, I continued to check for the better part of a century. The paranoia was that Beelzebub or one of his many subjects would drag me back and carve out the devil essence coiled amongst my own. The curiosity from a guilty conscience, not for the billions of demons I trapped for eternity, but for the one who'd shown me kindness.

Eligos. A true knight of valor.

He'd made me believe the mortal realm was a place anyone could recreate themselves, being the champion they wanted, but I learned too soon upon my arrival here that mortals, mages, and Mythics only ever saw me as a heretic monstrosity. Suppose Eligos wasn't wrong in his many speeches on demons being whoever they wanted because I did recreate myself as a champion no one would oppose.

I tsked, dragging my essence back into my body on this plane. I didn't have time to reminisce about old, dead fools. Eligos dug his grave when he helped lead the charge in a foolish coup to conquer a devil.

If Mora's intel was accurate, then this Novus needed to be dealt with. I didn't care a bit about whatever demons he exploited, but I'd be damned if I allowed his hubris to destroy the life I'd created, especially since I finally had a life worth living with Wally.