Page 7 of Letters to Satan

Her eyes are wide—wider than normal, that is, which is a feat on its own. Elves have an innate cuteness that serves as a defense mechanism, with their oversized eyes, small button noses, and cheeks that are always perfectly rosy. “Y-y-yes, sir, but…”

“No buts.” With a subtle nudge, she yields, allowing me to open the door and reveal two men waiting on the other side. The first is quite large, my height, with pallid, grayish skin and eyes as black as night. He’s holding an arm full of…

Huh.

Shiny red suitcases with flames stitched into the patent leather.

A little on the nose, I’ll admit, but who am I to judge?

The second man clears his throat impatiently, and my head tilts lower as I glance him over. His skin has a soft, rosy hue, and his gorgeous blond curls are swaying in the gentle breeze, sharp ruby horns peeking through the fluffy locks. The intensity in his honey brown eyes is palpable as he narrows them while glaring at me, his scowl perfectly held. My gaze drifts down to his coat that is utterly ridiculous.

I mean, it’s downrighttacky.

“Well?” he finally says, and my eyes snap up to his. “Are you planning to leave Hell’s royalty standing outside your door like a mere commoner?”

Feisty little shit.

My grin is barely contained as I tilt my head to one side, taking in the faint maroon freckles that decorate his nose and cheeks. His face scrunches, wrinkling up in a way that’s both infuriating and adorable. If this man wasn’t such an arrogant asshole, I might describe him as beautiful.

Breathtaking, even.

“Of course not,” I finally answer, finding my voice. “Summon your leader and let them know they will be welcomed graciously into our home.”

“Su-su-summon?!” he stutters, indignant, and a speared tail whips out from underneath the woolly mammoth wrapped around his chest.

“Sir,” the gray demon interrupts, taking a step forward that makes my body tense. “You will show respect when you speak to The Lucifer and address him by his proper titles.” My eyes flare wide as they dart back to the adorable man to his left.

Thisis the Devil?

This petite, curly-haired, doe-eyed twink on a stick?

Oh, holy sugar cookies.

Those honeyed eyes narrow on mine, and I collect myself with a polite nod. “Please accept my apologies, Your… High… ness?” I hesitate, not knowing which titles to use.

“Lucifer is fine,” he says, eyes narrowing even further until they’re little slits of irritation.

“Lucifer, then. As you know, I am recently appointed to this role. We haven’t yet had the pleasure of being introduced, and I did not recognize you—an unfortunate mistake on my end that will not happen again. You must be a fearless leader to come alone with just one guard.”

And they said I couldn’t be diplomatic when the situation calls for a gentle hand.

“Fearless, did you hear that? Take notes,” he says as he nudges the large demon. Lucifer is pleased as a peacock as he rolls his shoulders, and a smattering of snow falls off the thick black fur of his coat. “Thank you for noticing, Santa. I needed no guards at all, but this one is a worrywart. Perhaps your assessment will make him remember how brave The Devil is.”

“The bravest, sir,” the gray-skinned demon agrees, and I bite at the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at how Lucifer’s narrow chest puffs out in pride.

“Please, come inside out of the cold.” I back up and pull the door open, singling out a few elves from the group that have stopped to gawk. “Choco, Plummy, grab their bags so Mister…” I glance at the demon in question.

“Xalreth.”

“Bless you.”

He stares at me, which is quite unnerving with those inky, bottomless eyes. “My name is Xalreth,” he says, with a deliberate slowness, enunciating every syllable.

Well, that’s a great start to diplomatic relationships with Hell, telling an ambassador his name sounds like an allergic reaction.

I clear my throat with a hasty, “Apologies,” and refocus my attention on the elves hovering nearby. “Please take their luggage so Mister Xalreth doesn’t have to carry them everywhere.” Timidly, they obey, walking over and accepting the suitcases from the large demon, then glancing at me for further instruction. “Place them in two of the guest suites. If that’s okay,” I add with a glance in The Lucifer’s direction.

“That is acceptable,” he says, his freckled nose lifting into the air in a haughty, pompous gesture.

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