The knocking at the door gave Zac no time to ruminate on his dream or the soul-crushing revelation that his hunky eagle demon might actually be a chubby pigeon in a very convincing suit.

  Did I get fucking catfished? Zac thought, finally swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He remembered the embarrassed, round-eyed bird from his dream, the way it looked at him with the resigned sadness of a guilty purchaser. Does he even work out? Does he even lift? Is everything I know a lie?

  Zac stopped halfway to the door, a look of profound grief crossing his face. Will I never see eagle dick?

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “Can’t a guy lament his own eternal torment in peace?!” Zac yelled at the wood.

  “Stop masturbating and open the door, you leopard slut,” a detached, smoky voice called through the thick, demon-proof barrier.

  “Andras?” Zac questioned, his ears perking up. “Why are you here? I thought Bune was the designated team mom.”

  Zac reached for the handle and pulled. It was locked tight. He searched the frame, looking for a latch, a bolt, or even a hidden button, but there was nothing. The stone around the door was smooth and seamless.

  “If you’re looking for a lock, stop being stupid,” the owl called from the other side, his voice dripping with condescension. “That’s not how magic works in this wing.”

  “Then how am I supposed to let you in?”

  He heard a loud, weary sigh. “Just invite me in, you simpleton.”

  Zac frowned. “Yeah, good joke. As if me saying, ‘I invite you, cruel demon Andras, Great Marquis and ruler of thirty legions and decapitator of all,’ would actually-”

  Zac’s voice trailed off as the door swung open silently on its hinges.

  Andras was standing in the doorway, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. Goremaw was sat at his heel, his massive tail thumping against the stone floor with a rhythmic thwack.

  “Well, okay then,” Zac murmured, adjusting his hood. “Guess you were right.”

  “Of course I am,” Andras drawled, pushing off the wall and stepping into the room. “Now hurry up. We’re on a schedule.”

  Zac took a moment to look the owl up and down. He was still the sexy, asshole pirate-corsair from the waking world. Lean, muscular, and radiating a dangerous, "I’ll kill you after tea-time" energy. Okay, good, Zac thought. At least he’s not a bunch of hummingbirds parading as a psycho killer.

  Zac leaned suggestively against the doorframe, letting his leopard tail swish slow and low. “So, it’s fancy meeting you here. What are the chances that you and me would be all alone, in my bedroom, with no one to stop you from defiling me?”

  Andras’s golden eyes went wide… or rather, wider, since owl eyes were already fixed in permanent shock. He quickly looked up and down the empty hallway, his feathers ruffling beneath his greatcoat.

  “Be careful, human,” Andras hissed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “If you keep talking like that, I might just have to hold you down and make you scream into your pillow.”

  Zac’s grin was blinding. “Like you have the balls to do something so bad. I know you’re a good boy.”

  “Oh yeah?” The owl’s feathers puffed out until he looked nearly twice his size, his beak clicking sharply. “I’m the baddest demon out of the whole seventy-two. Even the Kings fear my-”

  BARK!

  Goremaw’s happy, gravel-crunching bark cut Andras off mid-boast. The motorcycle-sized warg didn’t care about posturing or "bad boy" reputations. He saw his favorite scratching post and he launched.

  “Oof!”

  Zac was tackled back into the room, hitting the floor with a heavy thud as three-hundred pounds of demonic muscle pinned him to the rug. Goremaw’s massive, wet tongue immediately began its assault, slathering Zac’s face in a thick layer of affectionate warg-slobber.

  “Goremaw! Off!” Andras barked, though the authority in his voice was completely undermined by the fact that he was currently blushing through his feathers.

  Zac just giggled, pushing at the warg’s furry chest. “See? Even your dog knows you’re full of it!”

  “Stop giving that pajama-wearing prostitute attention!” the owl hooted, his voice cracking with a very un-pirate-like desperation as he tried to haul Goremaw back by the scruff of his thick neck. “I’m your master! Me! You should be giving me kisses! Or at least mauling someone!”

  Goremaw, however, was in a state of pure, wiggly bliss. He completely ignored Andras, leaning his massive weight into Zac’s chest. Suddenly, the warg gave a wet, hacking cough. Zac’s eyes went wide as several chunks of unidentified, half-digested grey meat spewed out of the beast's mouth and landed directly onto the leopard-print fleece of his chest.

  Zac looked down, his lip curling in a mix of fascination and disgust. “Is that... a paladin’s kidney? Wow, you really do chew your food thoroughly, don’t you?”

  Before he could offer a more detailed critique of the warg’s digestion, Goremaw shifted his weight and balance. A massive, clawed, rear paw came down squarely on the center of Zac’s lap.

  “AGGHHHH!”

  The sound Zac made was less of a yell and more of a strangled, high-pitched whistle. His fear-blocker didn’t do a damn thing for his nerve endings. Zac’s entire body spasmed in a reflex of pure agony. In his frantic, pained rolling, his foot hooked around Goremaw’s back leg.

  The warg, caught off-balance, let out a surprised yelp and began to topple. Since Andras was still white-knuckle-gripping the beast's neck, the owl was dragged down too.

  The result was a catastrophic pile-up of fur, feathers, and fleece. Zac’s small room was suddenly filled with the sounds of hooting, barking, and Zac’s muffled wheezing. They were a chaotic, jumbled knot of limbs on the rug.

  As the dust settled, Zac found himself flat on his back, gasping for air. The heavy weight on his chest wasn't Goremaw anymore… It was Andras. The owlman had somehow ended up straddling Zac, his taloned hands braced against Zac’s shoulders, his tattered greatcoat draped over them like a dark tent. His golden eyes were inches from Zac’s, wide and vibrating with a mix of fury and something that looked suspiciously like a panic attack.

  “Bad boys... don’t have... happy dogs... you big... feathered liar,” Zac wheezed, his eyes still watering from the nut-crunching incident.

  “Fuck you,” Andras snapped, his beak clicking sharply. He tried to push himself up, but his boots couldn't find purchase on the slick, meat-chunk-covered floor.

  Unfortunately for the both of them, Goremaw wasn't done playing. Seeing his two favorite people in a pile on the floor was the ultimate "Go" signal. The warg barked happily and launched his three-hundred-pound body onto Andras’s back.

  The impact slammed Andras back down into Zac.

  “Oof!”

  Goremaw began to bounce, his massive tail thumping a frantic rhythm against the floorboards as he "play-mounted" his master. Each time the warg jumped, Andras was hydraulically pressed into Zac’s chest and hips.

  “I thought... March was... the Mormon one,” Zac managed to groan, his ribs creaking under the rhythmic assault.

  “GET OFF, GOREBOY!” Andras hooted, his hat falling over one eye as he was repeatedly shoved down into Zac’s lap. “And what the hell... do you mean... Mormon?! I’m the Sower of Discord! I’m a prince of the Pit!”

  Zac’s words came out in sync with the bouncing pressure. “Then... why... are... you... getting... Gore... maw... to... jump... hump... us?”

  “Jump hump?!” Andras squawked, his feathers ruffling so violently he looked like an exploding pillow.

  Finally, the owl had enough. He didn't try to push; he simply dissolved. The shadows beneath them surged, and Andras slipped through the floor. He reappeared a second later by the half-open door, leaning against the frame and frantically straightening his coat. He looked completely flustered, his chest heaving.

  “What the hell is ‘jump humping’?” Andras demanded, his golden eyes darting around as if looking for the hidden camera.

  Goremaw, meanwhile, looked quite confused as to where his master had gone. He tilted his massive head, looked down, and saw that his human play-toy was still there. With a happy huff, he went back to work, his massive, wet tongue slathering across Zac’s face.

  Zac tried to fend off the tidal wave of slobber with one hand while gesturing vaguely at Andras with the other. “It’s a... religious loophole!” Zac shouted over a bark. “The definition of sex is so vague! If you just stick your dick into someone and you don't move, it’s not really fucking, right?”

  Andras cocked his head to the side, looking profoundly disturbed. “No, that’s... that’s still very much a sex act, you lunatic.”

  “That’s just ‘soaking’ your dick!” Zac continued, his voice muffled as Goremaw tried to lick his ear. “But! If you’re soaking, and someone else jumps on the bed and causes you to move in and out of the person you’re soaking in, you’re not really the one humping them! It’s a technicality workaround! Neither the top nor the bottom is doing the fucking, so God thinks that’s A-OK!”

  The silence that followed was absolute. Even Goremaw stopped licking, sensing the sudden shift in the room’s psychic energy.

  Andras stared at Zac. His beak hung open. His golden eyes searched Zac’s face for any sign of a joke, but Zac was looking back with the earnest, helpful expression of a primary school teacher explaining long division.

  “That is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Andras finally snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and pure horror. “What the fuck is wrong with your Earth?”

  Zac sat up, wiping a particularly large gob of saliva from his forehead and scratching Goremaw behind his torn ear. “I thought you were going to Rube Goldberg defile me anyway,” Zac muttered. “Wasn't that the plan? A complex series of pulleys and levers that ends with my innocence in tatters?”

  Andras put a hand over his face, slowly dragging it down. “Goremaw,” he said softly, his voice muffled by his palm. “Please bite that human to death. He is evil. He is literally trying to rewrite the laws of morality with his horniness.”

  Goremaw looked back at his murderous master and let out a high-pitched, pitiful whine.

  “OH DON’T GIVE ME THAT!” Andras hooted, his patience snapping. “If you kill him, I’ll let you sleep on the couch! The good couch! The one without the bloodstains!”

  Goremaw looked between Zac and Andras, clearly weighing the pros and cons of murder versus upholstery.

  “You don't even let him sleep on the bed with you?!” Zac gasped, horrified. “But he’s so cuddly and warm! Dogs are pack animals! They need physical contact!”

  “GOREMAW ISN’T A DOG, HE’S A DEMONIC WARG!” Andras yelled, his feathers puffing out again. “HE EATS SOULS!”

  Zac and the demonic warg totally ignored him.

  “Who’s a good dog?” Zac cooed, scratching the black hellhound’s chin with both hands. “It’s you, huh? You’re a good dog! Yes you are!”

  Goremaw’s leg started thumping against the floor.

  “ENOUGH!” Andras roared. “If you're not going to maim him and you're not going to listen, then walkies are OVER!”

  The owl waved his arm in a sharp, cutting motion. The shadows beneath Goremaw suddenly turned liquid. The warg yelped as he began to sink into his own shadow like he was standing in quicksand. He tried to grab Zac’s leg with his paws, attempting to drag his new friend down into the void with him, but the shadow swallowed him whole with a soft shloop.

  Goremaw disappeared.

  “Hey!” Zac complained, standing up and wiping the remaining slobber off his face with his sleeve. “Why’d you do that to Gorem-awesome sauce? He was just getting to the good spot behind his ear!”

  Andras loomed over Zac, his shadow stretching long and menacing in the dim light. “He was acting Gorem-awfully like a bad doggo… I mean, dog… I mean, WARG!”

  Andras looked furious with himself. He turned around quickly, fumbling in his pocket. With a snap of his talons, he lit a cigarillo, inhaling deeply as if the nicotine was the only thing keeping him from committing a hate crime... against humans... he hated that his pet warg seemed to love the human.

  "So, now that we're all alone and the kid has been sent to his room, maybe we can-"

  "No," Andras huffed, a cloud of smoke escaping his beak. "I'm here to fetch you. Can't you hear it?"

  "Hear what?" was all Zac could say before he actually tried listening.

  A deep thrumming was vibrating the floorboards, a rhythmic pulse that he could feel in his teeth. Zac looked up, his eyes widening. "Is that March howling for me? Does the Wolf Daddy need me?!"

  Zac jumped to his feet and rushed into the hallway, his leopard-print tail streaming behind him.

  Andras followed, sighing heavily. "It's not the mutt howling. Use your ears."

  "I don't have owl ears," Zac muttered before closing his eyes.

  He concentrated. It was faint, muffled by the thick stone walls, but it was definitely music. A heavy, rhythmic beat drifting up from somewhere below.

  Zac’s eyes snapped open. "Is that... a boombox? Is March holding it up at the bottom of the stairs to get my attention?!"

  Andras tried to protest, but Zac was already running.

  "I GET SO LOST SOMETIMES! IN YOUR EYES!" Zac shouted, sprinting down the corridor, lost in a rom-com melodramatic fervor. "WITHOUT MY PRIDE I REACH OUT FROM THE INSIDE! MARCH!"

  "What? Wait!" Andras shouted, chasing after the human.

  "THE GRAND FACADE SO SOON WILL BURN!" Zac sang at the top of his lungs as he bounded down the stairs two at a time with a demon serial killer hot on his heels. "A THOUSAND CHURCHES IN YOUR EYESSSSSS!"

  Zac followed the sound of the music until he found himself in front of a familiar pair of doors: the War Room. He could feel the bass now, thumping against the wood.

  "Sa bet chi lamp, chi tangaay, sa bet maangi ci biir!" Zac belted, butchering the lyrics with passion.

  "HAVE YOU BEEN POSSESSED?! DID YOU LEARN A NEW LANGUAGE?!" Andras hooted, grabbing at the back of Zac’s onesie. "Don't go in there! I was supposed to keep you from-"

  Zac kicked open the doors.

  A sudden, physical wave of music poured out from the room, hitting Zac like a wall of sound and knocking him backward into Andras's arms.

  Zac brought his hands up to his ears, squinting against the sonic assault. Inside, chaos reigned. An anthropomorphic unicorn man, dressed in a glamorous outfit of rainbow feathers and glittering sequins, was dancing on the tactical map table. He was playing a trumpet, but the sound coming out of it was a shredding electric guitar solo, accompanied by an invisible, booming orchestra.

  Marchosias, Skarg, and Nock were chasing after the one-man band, lunging and grabbing at him as the newcomer twirled and hammed it up on his own imaginary stage. Zac looked over to see Bune in the corner, nodding along to the beat and tapping a clawed foot.

  The unicorn pirouetted, dodging a tackle from Skarg and a sword swing from Nock with effortless grace.

  "So this is the summons

  Stop kissing your cousins

  Demons dancing in dozens of new ways!

  It's hot as the ovens

  Your legions and covens

  It's not up for discussions, in a few days

  The Goetia Ball is near!

  So hear me as I tell you so clearly

  It is merely our yearly

  Demonic parade!

  There will be murder and fervor

  Mischief, yes this stuff

  Would make a Christian fade!

  There will be-"

  "WE ARE NOT THAT KIND OF DEMON!" Marchosias yelled, blasting at the dancing unicorn man with his silver annihilation breath. "WE DO NOT SING OUR FEELINGS! STOP IT!"

  The blast of fire washed over the table, evaporating the unicorn's trumpet mid-note. The music stopped with the jarring twang of a violin string snapping.

  "You murdered Satchmo!" the flamboyant unicorn shrieked, clutching his chest. "My beloved!" He swooned, collapsing onto the map in a dramatic faint.

  "Oh, you drama queen," Nock hissed, straightening his mane. "Who the hell names their horn?"

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Zac walked into the room now that the deafening music had stopped. He thought it was rich for Nock to be calling anyone else a drama queen, but the unicorn man was clearly... ugh, a musicals guy.

  "I've heard of guys giving their horns nicknames," Zac said, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. "But it's usually something like 'Mr. Big' or 'The Hammer' or 'Anaconda.'"

  All the demons in the room turned to look at Zac.

  Zac yawned, stretching his leopard-print arms high overhead. "Morning y'all."

  "Oh my dear Ose!" the unicorn man suddenly trilled before the others could react to the diabolically horny human. "You're finally back, and just in time for the ball!"

  The unicorn man rolled off the table and spun over to Zac, a blur of feathers and glitter.

  "WAIT RIGHT THERE!" Marchosias howled as he ran forward. "Andras, why did you bring, uh, Ose down here?! Bring him back upstairs so he can, uhm, get dressed! You know how I hate nudity!"

  "HEY!" Skarg bellowed. "FUCK YOU!"

  "He came down on his own," Andras said, waving a hand and walking past the others to sit at the table. "This human is literally more evil than the rest of you combined. But not me. I'm super evil."

  The unicorn man stopped dead in his tracks as he heard Andras call the leopard-spotted figure in front of him a human. He leaned in, sniffing delicately.

  "You... you're an Avatar?" he questioned, his eyes widening. "Oh, but of course! You are so teeny tiny! How wonderful! How spectacular! How absolutely morbid!"

  Ahem.

  The unicorn man waved his hands like a conductor. Another trumpet phased into existence with the sound of an orchestra vamping. "Me-me-me-me-meeee," the unicorn sang, finding his key.

  "Uhm, I'd rather you play with your other horn," Zac said.

  The unicorn laughed, quickly bringing his hand up to the spiraling horn on his forehead. "This one is only for disemboweling! Now let me serenade you! It's been so long since I've gotten to get someone's first impression on my art!"

  "That's not the horn I was-"

  Zac was cut off as the unicorn began to bellow a new song, a ghostly band striking up behind him with a crash of cymbals.

  "Welcome to the afterlife!

  You got what you deserved!

  Welcome to the afterlife!

  You're dead now, isn't that absurd?

  Thinking you followed the word

  Thinking you hid among the herd

  But your feathers are different than the other birds

  Spurred you along with the threat of swords!"

  "ENOUGH!" Marchosias howled.

  He grabbed the trumpet out of the singing demon's hand and tossed it on the floor. In a moment of rare unity, Nock, Skarg, and March all began stomping on it with a rhythmic, vengeful fury.

  Oh wow, I'm not the only musical hater here, Zac thought.

  "NO! Satchmo!" The unicorn man dramatically collapsed onto Zac, clutching at his onesie. "Look at what they are doing to my boy! Oh, the horror!"

  Zac took a step back, letting the unicorn demon fall face-first onto the stone floor. "Stranger danger! Please help me, Bune!"

  Bune looked over. The dragon butler crossed his arms and looked away pointedly, pretending to inspect a smudge on the wall.

  Zac cocked his head to the side. "Uhm, Bune? This stranger is trying to get handsy with me."

  "I'm doing no such thing! I am merely overcome with inconsolable, wretched anguish!" the unicorn man brayed as he pushed himself back up, dusting off his rainbow feathers.

  "That's too many emotions that aren't angry, confused, or horny," Zac said flatly. "We don't do that here."

  The unicorn man looked very confused.

  "That's more like it," Zac nodded. "So, who are you? Some sort of stripper that got sent for Marchy-poo?"

  "I... um..." The unicorn man stood up, looking back at the other demons who were still stomping the remains of the trumpet. Skarg threw in a flying elbow drop for good measure, shattering the brass completely.

  The horned horse demon’s shoulders slumped. He turned back to Zac with a sigh. "I am Amdusias. Great Duke of Hell, ruler of twenty-nine legions, the Demon of Music."

  As Amdusias prepared to launch into his second verse, magical demonic music swelled in the air, a brassy, chaotic overture. The unicorn Duke began to tap a hoof and snap his fingers, his sequined outfit shimmering.

  "Yes I am Amdusias

  And Amdusias is me!

  Yes I am the great

  Singer of cacophony!

  I call the thunder

  And I bend the tree!

  Yes I am Amdusias

  And Amdusias is-"

  The music ground to a halt with the sound of a record scratch.

  In a move of surprising coordination, Skarg and Nock performed a textbook double-reverse suplex on the oblivious unicorn. Amdusias hit the stone floor hard, his glittering horn piercing the obsidian and getting stuck fast. He flailed his legs in the air, his rainbow feathers ruffling indignantly.

  Marchosias stood over the flailing musician, crossing his arms. "How many times do I need to tell you? This isn't Singing and Dancing Hell. This is Hell Hell."

  Zac's mind wandered off as he imagined March in a black-and-white ref's uniform, blowing a whistle while Skarg and Nock pinned him down in an aided reverse spider hold. Mmm, Zac arched his back slightly, imagining the caribou and lion in tight lycra shorts and not much else. Is that your knee in my back or are you just happy to be twisting me into a pretzel?

  "You dare assault a Duke?!" the unicorn man yelled as he wrenched himself free from the floor. A chunk of stone flew across the room as his uni-horn emerged completely undamaged. "I'll report you for this! I'll bring it right down the chain!"

  "You dare threaten me in my own keep?" Marchosias grabbed Amdusias’s horn, yanking the unicorn’s face down until they were nose-to-snout. The silver light of holy fire peeked out from March's growling, bared fangs.

  Amdusias let out a yelp of terror. "BUNE!" the unicorn man shrieked. "I'll only talk with Bune! Do you think I would lower myself to speak with a lowly Marquis?!"

  Skarg and Nock walked up on either side of the unicorn, punching their palms menacingly, looking like old-timey gangsters intimidating a poor shopkeeper. March’s growl grew louder, the silver light intensifying.

  However, before they could shake down the obviously very limp-wristed horn-tooter, Bune walked over. He grabbed the equine by the shoulder and spun him around.

  "I am not joining the Infernal Chorus," Bune's Left Head said flatly.

  "But why?!" Amdusias yelled suddenly, apparently forgetting all about the cocked-and-loaded atomic destruction breath that had just been held against his head. "You can sing three-part harmony all by yourself! You're a natural baritone-tenor-bass combo!"

  Zac walked over and stood next to March as the newcomer dramatically tried to convince the hydra to come to one of the weekly community band practices.

  "You were really nice to Humps when she visited," Zac noted.

  "Who?" Marchosias looked down at Zac, momentarily forgetting his distaste for the maddening minstrel.

  "Oh you know," Zac said, waving his hand dismissively. "Gremory. My bitch bestie."

  Marchosias’s tail tucked in sharply. "Do not call Duchess Gremory such things."

  Zac rolled his eyes. "I forget how pure you and Bune both are. But calling her a crusty camel cunt is totally cool because me and her are tight. We are BFFs and we totally talk all about the rest of you behind your backs when you're not listening."

  "No you do not," March said, glancing around nervously as if the Duchess might materialize from the ether.

  Zac grinned. "So tell me, why are you all bullying this one?" He gestured to the unicorn, who was once again wailing and sobbing while clinging to Bune’s tailcoat. Bune’s two heads looked at each other with an expression of profound exasperation.

  Marchosias looked at the unicorn, then back to Zac. There were a few seconds of heavy silence.

  "He has theater kid energy," the Captain finally rumbled.

  Zac blinked a few times. "True."

  As Zac contemplated where March might have learned to hate theater kids and their energy, a new wave of music suddenly began erupting from the unicorn, who had somehow manifested a fresh trumpet in his hands.

  "Oh he's a treasure

  A soul without measure

  A plaything not for leisure

  One who’s never had the pleasure!

  Ose, you cheeky vermin

  Your words, much like a surgeon

  Infinity did converge in

  Your avatar, is a virgin!"

  Marchosias howled. Bune's middle head popped out with a wet tear and roared. Skarg crouched low, ready to tackle. Nock unsheathed his sword with a hiss of steel. Andras looked up from where he was methodically sawing through one of the legs on March's chair.

  "I'm totally not a virgin, man," Zac said instinctively. It was a habit ingrained in him from life on Earth… he didn't know why so many people asked him all the time, but his response was hard-coded. It's not like he gave off some weirdo sexless energy… right? Right?!

  Amdusias turned and grinned, his rainbow feathers shimmering. "Oh Avatar of Ose, so quick with a lie! Just like our most... abhorrent Felidae."

  The other demons didn't wait for permission. Skarg, Marchosias, and Nock tackled the unicorn man all at once, a chaotic pile of fur, feathers, and armor crashing onto the floor.

  A few minutes later, Amdusias was bound to a chair placed precariously on top of the tactical map table. He had a gag in his mouth, but he looked remarkably cheerful for a hostage.

  Marchosias glared at the captive, both hands on the map, his claws digging holes into the wood. "If you tell anyone that the Avatar is a virgin, I will rip off your horn and you will be the Demon Horse of Music."

  Amdusias chewed through his gag with a wet crunch and spat it onto the map. "I just came here to remind your pathetic warband that the Ball is only a week away! The Princes will be most upset if you losers are a no-show again. Attendance is not optional."

  "Yeah, I'm not going," Andras drawled, flicking ash onto the floor.

  "We are fighting a war," March barked. "As if we have time to waste on pageantry and appearances."

  "Oh, I forgot about the Ball!" Nock declared, his eyes lighting up. "I only brought thirty going-out outfits!" He looked around frantically. "What is the theme this year?"

  "I would rather not be at a party," Bune's Left Head said, shuddering.

  The Right Head nodded vigorously. "That idiot Valac tried to ride me three hundred and eighty-four years ago. Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

  Skarg crossed his arms, looking disgusted. "Fuck dress codes. Balls are for ditsy bitches who can't get fucked. 'Oh, who has my glass slipper? Oh, people don't know who I am if I have a little mask on a stick! Oh, look at the rich asshole who slowly walks down the big staircase in some faggy silk outfit while everyone watches!'" The wendigo demon shuddered. "So performative."

  "Is it a tribute to ritualistic murder this year?" Nock asked, seemingly ignoring Skarg entirely. "Or is that next year? Oh, I have the perfect black robes and golden mask to wear."

  "Please no," Bune whimpered, clutching his stomach. "If I was forced to wear a golden mask..." The dragon man looked a bit sick.

  "There are going to be other demons at a big party?" Zac asked, perking up. "That sounds like the perfect chance for me to get defiled by some side character who can get murdered by Captain Daddy without anyone really caring about them dying."

  "NO," March growled. "If the Princes want a progress report, they can schedule an audience with me. Officially. That's why we have an agenda and a guest log. Isn't that right, Halphas?"

  "A week will be plenty of time for me to send Timon and Pumbaa out to have a new outfit commissioned," Nock mused, rubbing his chin and ignoring March completely. "I must maintain my position as most fashionable feline. Vine keeps a list, you know, and I am at the top of it despite Vapula's desperate attempts. Everybody wants to be a cat, and all cats want to be me."

  Andras chuckled. "Of course Vine keeps a list of queer kitties."

  "Wait," March growled, looking around. "Where is Halphas?"

  "Yeah," Skarg laughed, "that puss still thinks he's a king. There's no way Purson would keep some lame list of-"

  "LORD FURFUR!"

  The bickering in the room went dead silent as the doors slammed open. Everyone turned to see who had burst in.

  Zac’s brain struggled to process what he saw.

  A very cute, very chubby baby otter with leathery bat wings was hovering in the doorway. It flapped its wings comically hard to keep afloat, its little paws paddling the air.

  "LORD FURFUR!" it yelled again in a very squeaky and adorable voice.

  The color drained from Skarg's face. A sudden, sharp chill filled the room as demonic ice began to spread across the floor from the wendigo's feet.

  "The stained glass wings have appeared again!" the woodland critter cried. "It's on the battlefront near the Jordan River, Lord Furfur! It's heading this-"

  Skarg suddenly grabbed the cute little flying otter baby by the neck and began to choke it. "MY NAME IS SKARG!" he bellowed right into its face, his spit flying. He shook the otter violently as he throttled it.

  "Hey, leave the cute little animal alone!" Zac said, rising to his feet and pointing a finger. "Animal abuse is not sexy at all!"

  The room went silent, save for the squeaking gasps of the little water pup. Then, all the demons burst into laughter. Zac looked around, confused. Even Amdusias was giggling.

  "That's not an animal," Bune's Left Head said, a hand in front of his mouth trying to hide his own grin. "It is a demonic Cherub."

  His Right Head snorted. "It is one of Furfur, I mean Skarg's, legion."

  "That cute little thing is one of your soldiers?" Zac questioned. "I thought you'd have an abominable snowman or like, a horde of Krampuses or something."

  The demonic music once again vamped as the prisoner unicorn on the table looked to the ceiling and opened his mouth.

  "After the boring date, and its time to defer

  But you've found across the table is an amateur

  If you find yourself in a state of longueur

  It might be time, to summon Furfur!"

  "SHUT UP YOU!" Skarg bellowed.

  "Like a Viagra he will help spur

  Your lover, even though the liqueur!

  Oh he will be your smashing chauffeur

  The Demon of Love, his name is Furfur!"

  "I'M WARNING YOU!" Ice radiated from Skarg, and the room went instantly cold.

  Zac looked over at the total macho deer demon. "Wait, Demon of Love? I thought he was the demon of ice or something." His brow furrowed.

  "If you cant get any from him or her

  There's just one demon who you should confer

  His fiery tail, I mean hart, for sure

  He is passion's saboteur, his name is Furfur!"

  "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" Skarg put his hands over his ears and ran out of the room. He didn't run out through the door, though; he ran right through the nearest wall, Kool-Aid Man style, leaving a huge pile of rubble and dust in his wake.

  Bune sighed. "Why does everyone think it's okay to punch holes in the drywall?"

  "The plaster always stains so terribly," his Right Head lamented.

  Zac looked back up at Amdusias. The unicorn man was now standing and bowing, having somehow freed himself from captivity through the sheer power of song.

  Zac noticed March. The wolf demon was not laughing with the others.

  "Duke Amdusias," Marchosias howled, "you have caused enough misfortune in my keep! I cast you out!"

  The room went silent again. Zac put a finger in his ear to try to clear the ringing; the day had had quite volatile volume dynamics.

  "HA!" The unicorn man gave a very performative stage laugh. "As if you could repel me, little Marquis. A sad little puppy begging for your old master's approval could never-"

  Zac winced as he watched Bune suddenly and violently grab the unicorn's legs and rip him from the table. The horned horse-man smacked his chin on the wood before Bune tossed him towards the door. Amdusias smacked the polished floor sideways, landing on his ribs with a sickening crunch.

  "Arghh!" the horse whinnied. "I am not a stunt man, Bune! What was that about?!"

  The demonic lead singer slowly stood. An ominous music, sounding like violence, started to grow in volume as the unicorn looked enraged. "I will tell everyone you have a virgin avatar here! I don't care if you think he is helping you with-"

  Huff.

  Bune rose to his full height and stalked over to Amdusias. "I hate you so much."

  Bune's two heads coughed and then breathed in deep. Zac nodded. That's right, Bune, spray that bitch with some of your fire.

  However, when Bune opened his mouth, purple flames did not come out.

  "A war is not won with many ships

  (it is won with dirty tricks)

  A battle is not fought with swords and whips

  (it is fought with words from lips)

  A fight is not settled due to an armies size

  (it is settled by who can apprise)

  A brawl is not lost when your last soldier dies

  (it is lost when you fall for lies)

  Our allies may agnize over all the ships that capsize

  They’ll chastise every unwise use of surplus supplies

  And that is why we will lose

  A melee is not hopeless against an ascender

  (it is hopeless when you surrender)

  A skirmish is not pointless even with a blender

  (it is pointless if your goal is splendor)

  A conflict is worthless if you’re afraid of the char

  (but it is worth it if you will go so far)

  A struggle has no purpose if you wont risk a scar

  (so are we willing to burn out the stars)

  Par is not enough, we must raise the bar

  Our bizarre avatar will be our spy from afar

  And that is why we will win"

  Zac smiled. The dragon man's ability to harmonize with himself really was quite amazing, and the operatic singing was actually pretty good. He started clapping.

  Bune looked back at Zac and blushed before quickly looking back at the unicorn man, who was also clapping and yelling about how Bune must join the demonic carolers.

  Bune crossed all four of his arms, his posture rigid. "I do not have the time for such trivialities. Unlike some, my position does not involve... entertainment."

  "But you could!" Amdusias said, leaping up and trotting around the dragon. "You're a Duke! You are above this front-line Marquis business. Not to toot my own horn, but I could pull some strings with the Kings and-"

  "I do not have time for such trivialities," the dragon butler's heads said in tandem, cutting off the musical sales pitch.

  "I do appreciate your offer, brother, but I cannot leave my current post," the Left Head said, its tone softening just slightly. "Although you do not understand the pride I feel in my current role, it is... vital."

  Bune's Right Head nodded solemnly. "The Broken Antler may not have the best track record, but I hope you understand the importance of the work we are doing here."

  The glam unicorn man looked at Zac, his rainbow eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I would not have guessed that Ose would have actually done something useful finally. Every time he gets audited he just lies and tricks the Princes. You know, I've overheard that they are going to put him on a memorandum of reprimand for shirking his duties."

  "Good!" Zac yelled from across the room. "That bastard is a total dork. He's not even as hot as he looks!"

  Amdusias raised an eyebrow before slowly turning back to Bune. "If you do not wish for me to tell the others about this, I can try my best to keep the secret."

  "That is all I can ask of you," Bune said.

  "But," the horned horse said, dramatically holding a hand high and closing it into a fist, "there is no way you will be able to keep this a secret from the others at the Ball. And I will be informing the Princes that their invitation has been delivered."

  Bune groaned, a sound of profound social anxiety. "Fine. I will attend."

  The unicorn man's feathered outfit ruffled as he turned and walked to the door. With one hoofish hand on the handle, he looked back over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "The Princes will expect all of you. Including your... surprise guest."

  The unicorn whinnied with laughter as he quickly exited stage left, the door swinging shut behind him.

  Bune and Zac both turned to look at March to get his reaction, and it was basically what they expected… the wolf was rubbing his temples and looking very, very tired and disappointed.

  Before Zac could offer the stressed-out ultra-dad a shoulder rub, Nock gave a little cheer. "Huzzah! Everyone loves a party!"

  "Ugh," Andras said, leaning against a wall now, "there better be an open bar."

  Marchosias slowly walked toward his chair, looking like he was carrying the weight of the entire infernal bureaucracy on his shoulders. "A room full of drunken demons. Every year they waste time with this nonsense. And now they expect us to bring Zachary along with us? To what, stand there silently? He is just an Avatar. It's not like he is the first human to be conscripted to a demon."

  "But I'm the cutest, right?" Zac said as he watched the very responsible wolf standing in front of his seat. "Am I going to meet any other humans there? It might be cool to see how others are dealing with Hell."

  Marchosias gave a tired sigh. "I am not sure who else is working in the recruitment office this century. So many humans are banal, there is very little reason to bother with contracting them."

  Zac nodded somberly and whispered, "The only reason I was recruited was my lack of anal."

  "I said banal," March groaned.

  As the wolf was about to take his seat, a high-pitched, very cute voice called out from the floor beside the table. "Lord Furfur! It's not what you think!"

  Marchosias suddenly stood up straight. The otter cherub pulled itself up onto the table and rubbed at its throat where Skarg had choked it into temporary unconsciousness.

  "Of course the deer didn't finish the job," Andras said, drawing his sword with a hiss of steel. "I'll take care of it. I haven't gotten to kill anything yet today."

  Marchosias held his hand up as he looked at Skarg's underling. "What do you have to report? You had said something about the angel who deconstructed Glasya-Labolas."

  Zac's ears perked up. He had been thinking about how he might slip Marchosias an adult beverage at the Ball and whether or not a drunk wolf would sing karaoke or lose his clothes (hopefully both at the same time) but the mention of that odd hyphenated name reminded him of his first dinner in Hell, watching the eternal battle and seeing a dog-man in a black leather harness being split open like a pi?ata.

  "It's not what it appears," the baby otter squeaked, rubbing its neck. "The stained glass wings, the gavel, the perfect unmarred white body..."

  "Yes, the angelic soldier," Nock said with a growl. "After all this eternity, how dare they suddenly renege on the rules that they had put forward? Have they no honor?"

  "That's just it," the cherub said, its eyes wide. "It's not an angel."

  The room was silent for a few moments before the high demons all let out a collective sigh of relief.

  "Of course it wasn't," Andras said while pulling out a fresh smoke. "As if those bores could stomach even the chance of pain."

  "Indeed," Bune said, sounding relieved. "It's not like there is any concept of change up in the Seventh Throne."

  "And I didn't recognize them," the Right Head said, putting a clawed hand under his chin. "It's not like corporealizing would make them give up their god-given appearances."

  "Would it really be so bad if you had to fight some angels?" Zac questioned. "Isn't that like, just the expected script for the apocalypse? Angels v Demons in a massive, world-destroying cage match?"

  "My sweet Zachary," Nock said grandly, "the angels are God's most favored, and controlled, creations. He would not let them be defeated, especially not in front of the eyes of humankind."

  "I thought we covered this in our lessons," Bune said, turning to Zac. "God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and He is omniscient. If the angels were down here it would be by His command, and He would not allow them to take even the slightest loss. The war would be as good as finished."

  Zac nodded slowly. So God is basically the Dungeon Master, he thought, hiding behind his DM screen and just making up the shit as he goes, and if he decided to, he could totally wipe the entire campaign. That does sound pretty bad.

  "If it wasn't an angel," March growled menacingly, cutting off the chatter, "then what, the fuck, is it?"

  "They call it... a simulacrum," the cherub squeaked, looking around in a panic. "The Holy City has constructed it, my Lord."

  Marchosias's jaw hung open. "The paladins built it? How the fuck..."

  "This is not good," Bune said slowly, his tails lashing. "If they built one, and it killed Glasya... what happens when they build more?"

  The room went silent. The demons looked at each other, the realization dawning that instead of God deciding to kick the table over and ruin the long-standing game, the humans had actually built a WMD. They weren't facing divine wrath; they were facing a tech upgrade.

  Zac was oblivious to the extreme tension in the room and blurted out, "So, little cutie, do you know anything else about the scary robot thingy?"

  The otter finally looked over at Zac. "You are the Avatar that Lord Furfur has been gushing about? You, uh… look kind of basic."

  Zac clutched his heart and fell to the ground in a dramatic heap of leopard print. "I'm not basic!"

  "This isn't the time for that!" Marchosias howled. "Just tell us if you know anything else!"

  The otter cherub snapped to attention, its little wings fluttering. "I only know one more thing, sir. The humans named it."

  After a few moments of tense silence, Marchosias growled, "And?"

  "Its name is," the cherub swallowed hard, "REPENTANCE."

  Marchosias looked shaken. His amber eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face. He slowly sank down into his chair, the weight of the revelation pressing him into the seat. With a loud crack, the chair leg that Andras had sawed through earlier finally gave way.

  Marchosias fell to the ground with a heavy thud, landing right next to Zac.