Page 5 of Letters to Satan

His solid black eyes make it impossible for me to tell if he’s rolling them, but intuition tells me he absolutely is. “Let me go first, Dam—” He stops abruptly and glances at Marissa, who is watching our interaction with wide eyes, before composing himself and reverting to a formal tone. “Lucifer, let me go first and ensure it is safe.”

“Safe?” I scoff, making a show of rolling my eyes and flipping my hair. “What do you think is going to happen, exactly? I’ll trip on an elf? A reindeer will chew my hair?” I puff my chest out, releasing a burst of my power to hang heavily in the small room. “I am the leader of Hell, not a child that needs your protection.”

“Regardless, we don’t know what to expect, and you are too important to put in unnecessary risk. Allow me the honor of going first, if only for my peace of mind.”

Blast him and his gift for words. He knows far too well how to get his way, and I narrow my eyes as I deflate with a dramatic sigh. “You will not act as aprotector because I don’tneedprotection. If anyone is there, you will announce my arrival.”

“Announce you, sir?”

“Yes, you can be my master of ceremonies, just like they have in those medieval shows I binge watch.” Hello, gluttony. It’s my favorite of the seven sins.

“But—”

“Like in Mary, Queen of Scots.” Such a fucking wonderful show, especially when the heads start rolling.

“Uh…”

“Oh, and Bridgerton. Can’t forget that one.”

“That… is ridiculous,” he says, putting a saucy hand on his hip. “I will not stand in the snow and shout your titles.”

“Hmmm… won’t you, though? I bet Jeebus had a badass master of ceremonies,” I muse, and his hands fly up in the air. My sigh stretches out long and heavy as his gaze remains fixed on me. “Alright,fine.You may go in front of me.”

Xalreth appears satisfied as he lifts the armful of luggage once more, ready to take a step towards the portal. I cross my arms and glance at him, juggling the suitcases. “Oh yeah, you’re going to bereallysafe with your hands full. What’s your plan, to smack an attacker with your toiletries bag?”

He snarls at me over his shoulder. “You could carry your own shit.”

“No, no, carry away. I’ll just sit here and watch in case the North Pole becomes a bloodbath. That way, if a Yeti tries to eat your head off, I can swoop into save you, and you’ll owe me another life debt.” He shakes his head and steps forward, and just like that, he’s on the other side of the portal.

His voice is muffled and warbling as it reaches me. “Oh, bastard sons, oh, holyshit,it is fucking freezing!” He dances between his feet while trying not to drop my bags.

“Focus! Is there anyone there? Any Yetis?” I shout, and he shakes his head.

“Empty. Come on through.” The moment I step through, a stinging cold surrounds me, causing goosebumps to form on my skin. My coat helps against the bite of winter, and the phoenix magic tingles as it works to counter the frigid temperature, but the transition from a triple-digit atmosphere to this severe weather is a shock to my system.

“Jeebus Cracker!” I shout, tucking my freezing hands into my armpits. “What are you standing here for?! Go knock on the door!” My tail dips into the snow, and I’m convinced it’s going to freeze right off as I yelp, yanking it up and burrowing it underneath my coat.

Xalreth raises his fist, knuckles facing the door. “Wait!!” I shout, and he jolts and fumbles with one of my suitcases, whirling to glare at me. “Let me just…” I adjust my position, pushing a hip out and fluffing my hair. “Okay, okay, I’m good.”

His hand lifts again, arcing towards the door. “WAIT!”

“For fuck’s sake, Damien!” he shouts, flinging my bags to the ground and sending a dusting of snow over both of us. I stare at him, unblinking, as I pullout my Chapstick and slowly drag it over my mouth before smacking my lips together. “Are you fucking ready now?”

“Yes.” There’s a dangerous clip to my voice that has his spine straightening and head tilting in submission. His movements are stiff as he picks up my bags and raises his hand once more. Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, he waits for my nod before his powerful fist thunders against the door.

From inside, the sound of shuffling is followed by a panicked squeak that makes me grin. Frantic, whispered conversations hiss between at least two voices before the door cracks open. With a head full of wild brown hair and wide blue eyes that seem too big for her face, a rosy-cheeked elf peers through the crack.

“H-hello?” Her petrified gaze bounces back and forth between me and Xalreth, pingponging so fast it almost makes me dizzy.

Xalreth’s voice booms so loudly I jump. “Announcing the arrival of The Lucifer, The King of Darkness… The Serpent of Hell, Mighty Legion of the Underworld…”

My brows climb higher on my face with every word, because as loud as he’s being, his tone is completely, utterly flat.

This isn’t anything like Bridgerton.

“The Ruler of Fire and Brimstone… His Royal Highness of the Infernal Land of the Damned…” As subtly as possible, I kick his shin and he smirks, giving me the quickest side-eye in the world as he clears his throat. “The Devil Himself requests an audience with The Santa.”

“The… Santa? The… theDevil!?” This tiny person in the doorway sounds like a field mouse when she speaks, squeaking and chirping to where I can barely understand her.

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