Page 263 of Castings & Curses

HEAVEN KNOWS

ARIEL DAWN

CHAPTER1

Endor

I hate Mondays.I mean, I guess everyone hates them, really, and I get that. Waking up from the weekend, having to go back to the grind, and traffic jams when you’re already late. A no smoking sign on your…

Okay, okay, you got me. I guess I don’t really know about either of these things, considering I’ve spent my entire life in Hell—and I don’t mean figuratively. I meanliterally.

I’ve never been anywhere above the melting lava pools that I call home. I was born here. Bred and born to do one thing—work.

Mondays are the worst here in the gallows of Hell’s Admissions Department, or HAD, because that’s when all the shit piles up from the incompetent bastards who work the weekend shifts.

Incorrect forms, missing information, fucking doodles of dicks scribbled on my damn desk because they think it’s funny to vandalize my property when I’m not around to tear them a new asshole.

I sigh as I pick up the phone, pressing the button to connect me to Roche, the woman who is technically my boss, though she never likes to admit it. Which is why I like to remind her every chance I get that she’s just as fucked in this worthless existence as I am.

“What?” She doesn’t even bother with “Hi,” or “Hello,” or even a “How was your weekend, Endor?”

So, I don’t bother feigning interest, either. I’d like to get this day over with and it has barely started.

“Are you going to send someone down here to clean this shit off my desk or do I have to check the work logs?” I ask, and she immediately sighs.

“You need to lighten up. They wouldn’t do it if you weren’t so bloody easy to rile up,” she says sharply.

“So, I have to go through the logs, then. Okay, fine.”

“Endor…” She groans. “It’s five-thirty in the morning. Can you hold off on berating the new hires for like, an hour? At least, until my coffee kicks in.”

“A man’s workspace should be respected, Roche.”

“We’re in Hell, Endor. Pretty sure respect is at the bottom of everyone’s list when it comes to HAD. Not all of us are dying for a promotion like you.”

Her words shouldn’t cut through me, but they do. She’s right. I am dying for a promotion, because a promotion means I get to leave my desk in this endless maze of cubicles and see some sunlight. A promotion means I can finally get out of here. Out of admissions and into contracts, something I’ve always wanted.

Contract Demons get to be in the field. Above Hell. They get to collect the souls that then get sent to admissions, and in order to do that, they need permission to fly between realms—which they get.

Though, such a position comes at a cost. It’s not like you can apply to be a Contract Demon. You have to be recruited. Recommended.

I’ve done everything by the book here in HAD, gone out of my way and above Roche’s head on more than one occasion. I stay late, come in early, pick up everyone’s slack, and fill in when the assholes decide getting their dicks wet is more important than their fucking job.

At the last HAD meeting, Lexor, the head of the Demon Contractor Division—the DCD—told me they’d been watching me after seeing all thepromisingreports Roche sent in.

Out of our department, I am the only one with an unmatched number of admissions. No lost souls. Not one.

My track record is flawless, and if I keep up the good work, I know it will only be a matter of time before the DCD brings me into the fold, and when that happens… I’ll spread my beautiful black wings and fucking fly out of here so damn fast.

“Just send someone down here and quit bitching,” I say with a chuckle, hanging up the phone before she can protest further.

The mountain of paperwork on my desk that’s been left is insane. Lately, it seems there’s quite an increase of souls. People die all the time, but the amount seems to be increasing. Not that I mind, really. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just job security. It also means the day goes by a hell of a lot quicker when it’s one after the other.

I pull up my chair, take a deep breath, and dive into the first stack. I doubt the asshat weekend workers actually categorized this stuff the correct way, so I know the task ahead of me is going to be daunting, but that’s life.

This is Hell, after all. What else would I be subjected to?

CHAPTER2

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