Page 3 of Letters to Satan

“If you have a foot fetish, then I would say definitely, sir.”

“See?” I gesture vaguely and Cherise nods like I’ve given her the wisdom of the gods. Smart one, she is.

“Did you coordinate with the portal maker yet?” I ask, facing Xalreth.

“Yes, Lucifer. Marissa is on standby until you are ready to leave.”

“Perfect,” I murmur, a wicked grin spreading across my lips as I rub my hands together theatrically. “Have we informed The Santa of our visit?”

Xalreth raises his brows at me as he slowly shakes his head. “No, sir, you strictly forbade me from reaching out to the North Pole to warn them of our arrival. You wanted it to be… how did you word it?” He gives a dramatic pause, thumping his pointer finger on his chin. “Ah, yes… ‘The biggest motherfucking surprise of the year.’ And when I dutifully asked, ‘How big of a surprise is that, sir?’ your response was, ‘A donkey-dick giant-sized surprise that can be seen from outer space.’”

“That does sound like something I’d say,” I agree with a nod.

“Oh, very much, sir.” I glare as Xalreth clasps his hands in front of him, suddenly very interested in looking at the imaginary lint on his shirt. When he notices me still staring, he attempts a smile, but his razor-sharp teeth make it more menacing than calm.

“Cherise!” I shout, and she startles since she was only a foot away.

“Yes, my Lucifer?”

“Pack my bags, because Papa’s leaving for the North Pole.”

“Dear god, don’t ever call yourself that again,” Xalreth groans, and I reach with my tail to slap him, but he dodges out of the way. “What time should we plan to arrive at The Santa’s front door?”

“When would be the biggest inconvenience? Middle of the night? Right at dinnertime like a robo-caller? Five minutes before his alarm clock goes off in the morning?”

“Hmm…” He taps his chin as he thinks. “It’s less than a month until Christmas and I bet his workshop is running double-time. Showing up during the workday might cause the most disruption.”

“Oooh, good call. We’ll make a big scene when he shows us around the workshop, too. Distract his minions and get his assembly line all sorts of fucked up.”

“I believe they are called ‘elves,’ sir,” Xalreth says, but I dismiss his words with a flick of my hand. I glance in the mirror, catching my wide brown eyes and fluffing my thick blonde curls.

Thought the devil would have dark hair, didn’t you?

That’s what you get for stereotyping.

“Would sharpening these make me appear more threatening?” I ask, poking at the blood-red horns that stick through my hair. “Like, should it look as though I could disembowel a man just by head-butting him, or is that overkill?”

“Overkill is kind of your schtick,” Xalreth says, and well…

I couldn’t agree more.

“Cherise!” I shout, and she jumps in surprise again. Poor girl needs to have that anxiety checked out. “Find someone who can sharpen my horns and wax my tail.”

“Wax… your… tail?” She glances at the long, leathery, spear-tipped tail, which is the same color as my horns. The rest of my skin is a more muted tone of red, brightest only at my extremities. “It’s not… hairy? Sir?”

“Not likethat.” My exasperation is obvious as my hands wave through the air. “I mean, wax it! Make it shiny! Go at it Mr. Miyagi style.”

Slowly nodding, she edges closer to the door. “Yes, Lucifer, sir. I’ll get right on that.”

“We should have a royal waxer,” I tell Xalreth as I slide my hand over my tail. “In case this becomes a regular thing.”

“Yes, a royal waxer,” he says, his tone as dry as the desert sun. “That’ll be a priority for the next time you want to… polish your tail.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so perverted.”

“Nor do you.” I glare at his sass. “Sir,” he adds, like the snarky asshole he is.

“Come on, let’s go pack.”

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