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“Okay, so how do we find out who wrote the spell, or whatever?”

“It doesn’t matter who wrote it.” Not that Melchom thought humans had fallen so much they wrote spells now. “Everyone knew what they were invoking, and everyone wanted it.”

The human’s house of mirrors tumbled again—not a full spin this time, but enough moving around that Melchom saw Dove’s knees buckle as his body threatened to slump down. It was instinct to grab him—practicality because he didn’t want to heal him so soon after he’d just done it.

Flashes of a guy Melchom hadn’t seen in his memories flashed through the human’s head. He had raven hair and blue eyes, his face marred with acne scars and a few freckles.

“B-but J-Jordan,” Dove gasped.

“If he was chanting, he knew.”

Melchom could see that he’d been chanting, eyes never wavering off his human. There was a hint of fear Melchom could trace to him, but he didn’t look like he was in pain or regretful. That was enough for Melchom to justify bringing him in—and everyone else who simply showed a mask of indifference as they threw their friend into the abyss.

It might help him score a favor from one of the Princes. Astaroth especially liked souls guilty of betraying friendships and allies. Yes, that was why he was going to get invested in this—no other reason at all.

“You’re sure?”

Melchom sighed. “If even one of the people chanting didn’t know or didn’t want to offer you as a gift, you wouldn’t have been offered.”

Humans really shouldn’t have stopped studying magick and demonology. Life would be way easier if he didn’t have to explain very basic concepts over and over.

“Right…” Dove retreated into himself. “So what’s the plan?”

Melchom huffed.

If only his tiny human knew.

“For now, the plan is you’re going to clean up the bathroom, as we agreed.”

The way he sulked and pouted was adorable. “But you’re going to stay inside this time.”

“I am.”

Not only did he not want the minions to break the human before he did it himself, but Melchom was not letting them anywhere near Dove until he figured out what the deal was with wanting to get a lock of his hair.

Perhaps he should guard the bathroom area as well. It was a lot of work, but the main reason he hadn’t done it was so he could have some entertainment on days he didn’t have more to do.

It really wasn’t worth all the headaches those pieces of shit caused.

“Good.” Dove nodded to himself. “You can start scaring me later or whatever.”

Or whatever.

Melchom shook his head. The poor human didn’t know what he’d agreed to. It really was on him for not listening when Melchom warned him that deals with a demon weren’t a good idea. It worked for him, though. If his human was consenting to being drowned in fear, Melchom didn’t have to worry too much about fully breaking him or leading him to a catatonic state.

Catatonic states were impossibly hard to break through, even for demons. Death was easy to fix—even if it took a while—but the deepest of catatonias? Not so much. That was why their gifts never lasted more than a couple of years… if they even lasted that long.

Melchom felt his human could be the exception, though.

He had the perfect balance of broken and strong. And, now, apparently, the motivation. Melchom would get a much sturdier gift, and all he had to do was a day of work—not even, if Astaroth wanted to take it on.

“Uh…” Dove hesitated as he was offered a toilet brush. “I know I should’ve registered this earlier, but… If demons feed off fear, does that mean there’s no food in Hell?”

“Not unless it’s part of a punishment.”

“So… What do I eat?”

Melchom chuckled. He knew for a fact his human wasn’t hungry, but he figured it was one of the rambling thoughts he sometimes focused too hard on. “You don’t need to eat. I told you I can rearrange every molecule in your body. You’ve never been in better health.”