Page 7 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics

Pashar

I squint at my servant, my gaze following her as she floats around the shop with a fresh stack of comics.

It seems that she learned her lesson after the incident on the first day.

She is a quick learner—that alone is a marked improvement from the last human I had trapped in servitude here.

But I also am forced to acknowledge begrudgingly the kernel of respect that I also feel with how she handled herself after a trip into one of my creations.

Sure, she pissed herself and all over my floor—but that wasn’t unusual.

That was the whole reason for rule number two after the first handful of customers I had when my shop first opened.

It had resulted in not only a puddle left for me to clean up but also the loss of a sale, every time.

That she got herself together and went through the rest of the day was impressive.

I’m not too pleased that some idiots in the mall tormented her, however.

I watch the humans passing my shop speculatively, wondering if any of them are the culprits.

If so, they have rightfully earned the horrors awaiting them, plus a little something extra from me.

Although I don’t know who it is, I set about creating comics for them.

Five of them. I don’t know exactly how I know that there are five people who deserve them, but it’s a special knowing that comes with the territory of being a nightmare demon.

And these comics deserve every bit of my special attention.

She is my servant, after all, and no one gets the privilege of tormenting her other than me.

Naturally, I’ve been idling trying to ferret out who the humans are since then, but my pet human is remarkably tight-lipped about it.

Any time I try to pry the details from her, she just shuts down my efforts with “It’s fine” and “It’s over with now.

” I snort mirthfully to myself and shake my head.

Humans are far more forgiving than demons are.

Or really any other beings. I have never met any other species that would so easily let others off for the grievances they caused.

I stack the five comic books in front of me and peer down at them with satisfaction for a moment before standing and collecting them up.

I’m practically humming with excitement as I place them on the display rack at the front of the store.

My pet gives me a startled look but, other than muttering a drawn out “okay” under her breath, she doesn’t comment on it.

Not that it would have stopped me. I grin at my special little creations fondly before retreating to the shadows in the corner of the store where I work.

I lurk back there, watching the comings and goings of the humans drifting like mindless, chattering wraiths through the mall.

A group of five females pauses in front of my shop.

They look like a flock of eye-bleedingly bright birds with their obnoxiously colorful polyester clothes and makeup, and hair twisted and teased up into styles that look like insane crests.

Or startled birds. I don’t need my pet to tell me that these are her tormentors.

The look of dread that comes over her face and the vicious smiles of the females in question as their eyes lock onto her speaks volumes.

I bristle a little but force myself to sit back in my chair and smile coolly as I watch and wait.

One by one, they are ensnared by the nightmares crafted especially for them, and my smile only grows and grows as they forget entirely about my human and are caught completely by the magnetic enchantment of their nightmares.

This is almost better than watching Dzik begrudgingly serving and feeding the human masses that he would much rather string up and torture.

I chuckle to myself as their feet carry them to their nightmares, their hands reaching out for them.

My pet watches, her eyes wide like a startled doe, but she makes no move to help them.

In fact, her expression shifts gradually as she begins to smile, and a wicked gleam enters her eyes that makes me want to purr and curl my tail with pleasure as desire penetrates the darkest recesses of my being.

The satisfaction coming from her is nearly intoxicating, and before I realize it, I’m up out of my chair and moving toward her with the same sort of allure that I have noted in my victims. It’s enough to make me stop in my tracks a safe distance away, but I’m still vibrating with the pleasure stirring within me as I watch every sale made, and the females file out with their comics clutched to their chests.

A couple of them begin to open their books on the way out, but my pet, cognizant of rule number two, hurries them along so that they are well out of view when, one by one, their petrified screams fill the mall.

Chuckling to myself, I retreat to my corner, though my pet remains at the doorway, watching with wide-eyed interest as mall security runs past, followed closely by the mall administrator.

The commotion only grows as the females continue to scream, and I’m absolutely tickled with delight when I see the emergency personnel pass.

By now they have figured out the girls wouldn’t just awaken.

They can’t. No one caught within one of my nightmares can escape from it until the nightmare has run its course.

Normally, I weave little enchantments into my comics that ensure that, once they leave my keeping, the comics remain closed and unread until their purchasers are within their privacy of their own rooms. I may have neglected to do so with these.

“Whoa,” my pet observes from the doorway as the emergency personnel rush past again, this time with the screaming girls strapped securely onto stretchers. “Rule number two—I totally get it.” She shakes her head in amusement as she returns to her task.

I smirk, but my smile dies when the Kremble woman, the mall administrator, suddenly steps into my shop and sucks every bit of demonic joy right out of it.

Scowling, I rise from my table to meet her.

Her frown of disapproval is blatant on her brightly painted red lips as a call-back to her true demonic form.

I know from experience that this particular shade of red is nearly identical to her actual coloring, lending something a bit more to her current displeasure.

There aren’t many infernal level demons in Death Canyon City—in fact, Dzik is the only one I know of outside of Anayolia, or Ms. Kremble, as she calls her human form—but she keeps tight tabs on our activity.

She’s a headache to deal with, as is typical of all of Hell’s bureaucrats.

A real spawn of Satan. Quite literally. Anayolia is one of his great-granddaughters.

I cross my arms over my chest and glare as she leisurely makes her way toward me, her frown shifting to a hard smile painted on her lips.

“I wasn’t expecting trouble from this shop again quite so soon. You’ve only been in business here for five months and have managed to once again create chaos within my little fiefdom.”

“A mere accident, I assure you,” I reply smoothly, but I can tell she isn’t buying it by the way her bright green eyes narrow on me.

Her smile hitches up in a way that even I feel is a bit unnerving, and her gaze shifts from me to land on my pet. “You have a new employee, I see.”

My human freezes beneath Kremble’s focused attention, and I don’t blame her. Even in her human flesh suit, she oozes intimidation. Even my scales beneath my illusion prickle with wariness. The demoness paces towards my pet, her eyes brightening with curiosity.

“Interesting,” she murmurs. “I assume everything is in order and she is an actual employee and not just a human puppet whose mind is caught within your web.”

I nod stoically when Kremble’s gaze swings back to me, her eyebrow arching. Her smile widens, and she laughs sharply.

“It’s cute that you think I will simply take your word for it. I don’t recall receiving any paperwork for your newest employee. What do you say, girl?” she demands loudly enough for my pet to hear, making her jump. “Are you an employee of this shop?”

A confused look drifts over my pet’s face. “Uhm, yes? I mean, I don’t think I’m shelving the stock for my health here,” she comments with a laugh.

I inwardly sigh in relief. While it’s within my rights to demand compensation until she pays off her debt to me, it is still a small mountain of paperwork, and therefore something I would rather keep under Hell’s radar.

I grimace a little, though, because I’m half expecting Kremble to chew her bloody over her sass but, to my surprise, the demoness’s eyebrows fly up and she lets out a bark of laughter,

“Good. Make sure you remember that. Don’t let him try to overwork you. There are rules here, as he well knows.”

My pet nods, and Kremble pats her shoulder before turning back toward the entrance. She pauses, however, and glances back at me with a dark glower as she jabs a claw in the air at me.

“See to it that whatever happened here doesn’t repeat. You know the rules. All of this is to remain in the shadows. Next time I will file a report, and it will have steep consequences. Do not make this a habit if you value having everything intact,” she adds with an evil chuckle as she leaves.

My shoulders relax, the tension leaving me as her presence vacates my shop. I roll my neck and glance over at my pet as I walk over to the door and move the little hands on the paper clock on my door. My pet watches curiously, but I motion for her to join me.

“Come on, let’s pack it up early. We are heading to the Vulture’s Nest. I need a damn drink.”

Despite Kremble souring my mood, it slowly begins to improve as I watch my pet’s obvious enjoyment of the bar.

The low-lit atmosphere coupled with some odd finds from the desert, many of which were mounted bones in artistic displays, seemed to fascinate my pet.

The downside is that she seems to attract human males.

They gravitate toward her in an annoying fashion.

Thankfully, the bar is dark enough that I’m able to lower my illusion just enough to terrify them.

They take one look at me, and I watch with satisfaction, my smile growing as they quickly turn around and pay their bill before making a quick exit.

It turns out that chasing off human vultures away from my pet is entertaining, too. Having a human, is more enjoyable than I anticipated.