Page 99 of The Succubi's Choice

“How did your finals go?” Miri asks, because Thomas is literally possessed by a demon but looks uncomfortable just talking to her roommate.

“They sucked. I can’t find out if I passed for three days, and no one wants to drink about it.”

Miri can just see the brows furrowing in Gabriel’s face, and she gives him her best ‘Please don’t step in it’ smile before actually smiling at Thomas. “I really only have the one fancy dress.”

“He said you looked lovely in it,” Thomas says, entirely unhelpful, but he stands, eager to get away. “I’m horrible at shopping, I don’t know why he — “

He falls silent, for just a second, then holds his finger up to his lips.

“One second,” he says, his brow furrowing. “Uh...”

He blinks, rapidly, before his shoulders straighten out of the slump she hadn’t noticed, and, without anything else, Miri’s hair on the back of her neck rises, and she knows, somehow knows, that she’s not talking to Thomas anymore.

He gives her his not-smile, his sort of softening around his eyes, and a small nod hello. His eyes flash red, like he’s letting her in on the secret, or, conversely, making sure she knows about him. Making sure she didn’t miss the completely obvious transition, like her own little personal radar wouldn’t be able to tell the moment someone in front of her became someone she could no longer charm.

“Oh, hi,” Miri says, her mouth on automatic, because that is fucking weird. “Is that what it’s like when you take over?”

“Wait, what?” Gabriel says from the couch.

The Archdemon turns towards him, and Gabriel looks at him for a long second, before his eyes widen.

“Oh shit,” he blurts out.

“Sorry about that,” the Archdemon says, his voice smooth, turning back to Miri. “Thomas was anxious about schoolwork, so he wanted to be in control to obsess about it some.”

Miri nods, not out of any agreement or anything, but to give her time to think and deal with whatever the heck just happened in front of her. “Yeah sure,” she says, her voice higher than she would have liked. “That was weird.”

He studies her face, like he does every time he sees her, like he’s searching for cues and for a way to figure her out, before extending his arm out to her. “Do you wish to..”

“Sure,” she says, before locking wide eyes with Gabriel for a second. “Uh, let me grab my gun?”

Both men blink at her in unison.

“Is Beatriz gonna be there?” She’s running her mouth, but it’s more to deal with her nerves being suddenly fried.

“You’ll be safe,” he says, smooth, but waits, as Gabriel gets the gun from the safe, wrapping the bullets in paper towels, and Miri tucks it into her nice purse, her heart pounding, before taking the Archdemon’s arm and he whirls her away.

With a puff of displaced air, they’re...in a fancy, high class store, and her feet sink into the rich carpet. There’s a tinkle of a bell deep in the store, like it somehow realized that someone could teleport in and customized the bell to alert them.

Which means she’s probably not dealing with a normal human.

It’s chilly, ever so slightly, with the soft hiss of recycled air hitting Miri across the cheekbones. She doesn’t shiver, but finds herself drawing close to the Archdemon, who’s much warmer now that he’s in control.

The room is pastel, with a pale blue carpet and a pale pink wall and an eggshell ceiling, giving the overall expression of being nice and kind to the eyes, of being curated to be pleasing, of being carefully manicured to be perfect.

Miri knows a thing or two about that, and recognizing it is something interesting. Where so much relies on appearance, things are usually not at all what they seem.

Out of one of the corners, a small man scurries forward, face covered by large glasses, giving the overall impression of a bejeweled beetle. “Oh. Hello,” he says, matter of fact, and he appears fully human. “I didn’t expect to see you again.” His accent is strange, like a foreign lilt, but with a rasp at the back of his throat that belies a much different age than he appears.

“I was hoping to get something for my friend,” the Archdemon says, as unconcerned as if this is normal. Which she knows perilously little about his everyday life, so it very well may be.

The beetle eyes turn towards Miri, and he evaluates her, totally unsexual and totally calculating. “A succubi?” He asks, merely questioning, not the usual scorn or scoffing she usually gets. “I haven’t dressed one of those before.”

“I’ve been told we’re easy,” Miri jokes, but the jest flies right over the heads of both of the men. “Proportions wise, I mean.”

The corner of her Archdemon’s eyes wrinkle up in something resembling amusement, and she wants to see him make that face many more times.

Instead, the man just nods, thoughtful. “We might have something for you.” He turns, without another word, and disappears behind the fabric of what Miri had previously thought of as a wall but must obviously be a doorway.

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