Page 33 of Summoning Mr. Wrong
“An enforcer. A higher-ranking demon who ensures contracts are properly fulfilled.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I’d come to recognize as a sign of extreme stress. “They’ll be here tomorrow to evaluate our situation and make a final determination.”
My stomach dropped. “What does that mean for us?”
“It means,” he said heavily, “that someone else will decide whether I’ve completed my favor. And if they decide I haven’t…”
“They’ll take you back early?” I guessed.
“At best.” His expression darkened. “At worst, they could determine that I’ve been deliberately stalling, which carries much harsher penalties.”
“But you haven’t been!” I protested. “We’ve been trying everything!”
“I know that, and you know that, but enforcers aren’t known for their nuance or understanding.” He resumed pacing. “They’re bureaucrats with supernatural power, the worst possible combination.”
I sank onto the couch, trying to process this new development. “So what do we do?”
“We prepare,” he said grimly. “Make the best case possible that I’ve fulfilled my obligations. And hope the enforcer is one of the more reasonable ones.”
The rest of the evening was spent in tense preparation. Deus explained what to expect—the enforcer would appear sometime the following day, would likely question us both, and would have the authority to make an immediate decision regarding the contract.
“Just be honest,” Deus advised as we lay in bed that night, neither of us sleeping. “They can sense lies, so don’t try toembellish or exaggerate. Just tell them how things have been since I arrived.”
“Will they hurt you?” I asked, the question that had been haunting me all evening.
He hesitated just long enough to answer my question without words. “Enforcers rarely resort to physical methods,” he said finally. “They prefer more… administrative punishments.”
I tightened my arms around him, as if I could physically prevent him from being taken. “I won’t let them take you,” I said fiercely. “I don’t care what kind of supernatural bureaucrat they are.”
Deus smiled, a sad, tender expression that made my chest ache. “My brave, foolish human,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Some things are beyond even your determination.”
We made love that night with a desperate intensity, both of us aware it might be our last chance. The energy transfer was stronger than ever, the tattoos glowing so brightly they illuminated the entire room. Afterward, Deus held me close, whispering words in that ancient language I couldn’t understand but somehow felt in my soul.
Chapter 20
Morning came too quickly. I called in sick to work, unwilling to risk being absent when the enforcer arrived. Deus was unnaturally quiet, his usual banter and teasing absent as he made breakfast neither of us had the appetite to eat.
“When will they come?” I asked, pushing eggs around my plate.
“They don’t exactly keep appointment schedules,” Deus said, attempting a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Could be anytime. Could be—” Deus’s words cut off abruptly as the air in the apartment thickened, pressure building like the moment before a thunderstorm.
“Now,” he finished, standing quickly. “They’re coming now.”
The lights flickered, then went out completely. The temperature dropped several degrees, my breath suddenly visible in the air. A sound like tearing fabric filled the room, followed by a sensation of displacement, as if the air itself was being pushed aside.
Where our coffee table had been moments before, a figure now stood. Tall and unnaturally thin, dressed in what looked like a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, the enforcer resembled a human only in the most basic sense. Their skin was paper-white, their features too symmetrical to be natural. Instead of tattoos, they had what looked like text scrolling continuously beneath their skin, lines of that same angular script I’d seen on Deus’s phone.
Most disturbing were their eyes—completely black, with no whites or pupils, like holes cut into the fabric of reality.
“Asmodeus,” the enforcer said, their voice oddly flat and layered, as if multiple people were speaking in perfect unison. “Contract verification proceeding as scheduled.”
Deus straightened, all traces of the relaxed, playful person I’d come to know vanishing behind a mask of formal deference.
“Enforcer Kobaamoch,” he acknowledged with a slight bow. “Thank you for your attention to this matter.”
The enforcer’s black eyes shifted to me, and I fought the urge to step behind Deus. There was something profoundly wrong about that gaze, like being observed by something that fundamentally did not understand or value human life.
“The summoner,” Kobaamoch said, those eyes cataloging me with clinical detachment. “Approach.”
Deus gave me a small nod of encouragement. I stepped forward on legs that felt like jelly, stopping a few feet from the enforcer.
