Chapter 1
The street was eerily quiet. Nothing but a soft wind could be heard snaking its way around the buildings. Orion walked slowly, each step of his boots echoing off the asphalt. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black coat. It didn’t matter how long he had been doing this, no matter how many jobs he had taken, the stillness and tension of city streets before he made a deal still frightened him.
They say the key to negotiating is to find the sweet spot of not overplaying or underplaying your hand. If they see your weakness or call your bluff from the start then it’s game over. Orion had his fair share of “game over” moments and a body full of scars to prove it, but that was just the nature of his work. His days of learning from his mistakes were over; it had been years since he met a deal he couldn’t land. Tonight, though, there was a high chance that things would not go as he planned. He was about to negotiate with someone who already knew all of his weaknesses. The wind continued to howl through the buildings, the tails of his coat waving carelessly behind him.
Orion barely remembered the day he signed his soul away. Becoming a demon was never a part of his plans. Hell, becoming a demon was never really a part of anyone’s plans, but sometimes people had no other choice. Growing up, Orion was always alone. His parents were successful executives who cared more for their work than they did their child. Their marriage was arranged as a merger of two companies and Orion was the desired product of their union. Their love came in the form of possessions and material goods. Most would say he lived an easy life - big house, always a decent meal on the table, the best education money could buy - almost everything he could ever possibly want was handed to him without question except the love of his parents. He excelled in school, had a few friends but mainly kept to himself. Most of his peers looked to him as a rung on some bullshit social ladder because of his family name. He could never escape the reminder that he was nothing more than a product to verify the validity of a deal. His parents never let him forget that either.
That was how he got into this whole mess in the first place. The mafia promised him a sense of purpose that he had never had before. In retrospect it was all bullshit. No one in their right mind would have believed the demon mafia would provide anything other than pain, but Orion wasn’t in his right mind - he was still searching to find meaning that was his own.
His parents passed away when he was eighteen. He felt nothing except an empty void inside of memories he didn’t particularly care to remember. They had left him everything except validation of his existence. No hidden notes in the will of how much they loved him, no baby pictures or traces of them ever having a son in the spotless house. Coworkers who attended their funeral didn’t even know who he was. He was nothing but a tax write-off, a smart business decision.
He approached the door to the large brick home. A decadent array of vines and flowers lined the walkway and slithered their way up the side around the door. The copper handles were in perfect contrast to the dark red exterior. The entire home had an air of old-world charm - from the brick foundation to the manually lit lamp posts out front, it looked strange against the background of the modern city. To either side loomed tall office buildings, their glass reflecting the flickering street lights. Orion reached up to knock but the door flew open before he had a chance.
“Please do not knock, sir, the door is original,” came a bored voice from the entryway.
“George is that you?” Orion asked enthusiastically. George let out a low groan before stepping into the light. He was a tall man with a perfectly styled head of curly hair. His body was young, but his expression and disgruntled attitude were that of someone much more elderly. Demons do not age as long as they are in a contract and George had been in contract with Mr. Mon long before Orion had ever joined up, which was going on ten years ago.
Orion clapped a hand on his shoulder, “so good to see you, buddy! It’s been a while, eh?” At this George brushed Orion’s hand from his shoulder and turned away. “Not long enough,” he grumbled. “Follow me, he’s been waiting for your arrival.”
Orion took a moment to peer around the entryway as he walked. It had been quite some time since he had stepped foot in this house but everything seemed to be the same. The wood floors were still covered in expensive ornate rugs, various weapons, pieces of armor and banners still hung from the cold stone walls. The floorboards creaked and groaned with every step they took. “Hey George, have you ever considered updating the decor? Seems a little outdated,” Orion teased. George rolled his eyes and continued walking down the corridor.
The two of them had spent a lot of time together in the earlier years, despite George’s very apparent hatred of him.
When Orion’s parents passed, they left him a large sum of money. Not as a show of goodwill or love, but rather as a safety to make sure he didn’t spill any of his life’s details to tabloids or press. Ready to be rid of them for good, he was determined not to spend it on anything useful and wasted it on a binge of bad decisions. Drinking, gambling, drugs, sex with anyone he could find - he had indulged in every unhealthy vice imaginable. In a drunken stupor, he bet the last of his fortune on a poker game he knew he would lose. At that point, Orion was tired and sick of being reminded that his life meant nothing. He didn’t care about what would happen next, he just wanted to get rid of their memory. Turns out he was at a table with one of the most notorious demon bosses in the city - Mr. Mon, a Prince of hell. Next thing Orion knew, he woke up in a smoking lounge, draped over a velvet couch. That’s when he was offered the contract by Mr. Mon himself.
Upon beginning his work for the Prince, George was put in charge of teaching Orion how things worked. For the first month they had daily lessons where George rambled on about manners and etiquette, rankings and honorifics.
“Princes are sons of hell, bosses are humans who have been turned into demons and rose through the ranks. Are you listening, Orion?”
Of course he wasn’t listening. Not only was he withdrawing from everything he had pumped into his system over the last several months, but he had also just literally lost a part of his soul. He was not aware of how physically taxing the process of becoming a demon would be when he signed the contract. Mon had failed to mention any of these hardships which was the first time he realized he might have made a mistake.
Orion tried to brush away the bad memories as he followed George through the halls. It had been a long time since he had signed, a long time since he had come face to face with Mr. Mon. He was a different person back then - desperate and eager to escape the pain he felt. With time nothing changed except the pain had evolved into something new and he was too exhausted to try and escape it. This was his life now.
George pulled the heavy doors apart and gestured for Orion to go in. The room reeked of cigar smoke and bourbon. No lights in the room except a fire in the hearth and candles in sconces. There in the middle, sitting in a dark green velvet chair was Mr. Mon. He held a glass with one large ice cube in it and about an inch of amber liquid. Other demons graced the room in various chairs and chaises. Some wore traditional suits and ties while others had adorned themselves in jewels and elegant dresses. A quiet rumble of whispers began when they spotted Orion.
Mr. Mon’s red eyes glinted in the low firelight, his fingers moving to the top of the bourbon glass and swirling around the liquid. His dark hair was parted on the side like some kind of vintage movie star and two small red horns protruded delicately from the top of his head. He wore a custom-tailored gray suit that looked surprisingly modest against the decadence of the rest of the home. Orion’s heart raced but he stood firm in the presence of his former boss.
“So happy you could join us,” Mr. Mon said with a sly smile. “How have you been, Orion? It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me.”
Orion stood silent and felt the weight of gazes from everyone in the room. “I didn’t come here to chit-chat,” he said nonchalantly. “You know I’m here on business.”
“Don’t be like that,” Mr. Mon replied with a pout. “I’ve waited so long for you to return.”
No one dared make a sound, the tension was palpable. Orion took a couple confident steps towards the velvet chair. “I’m sure you only miss me on your lonely nights,” he said with a cocky smile. He reached for the glass in Mr. Mon’s hand, making sure to graze his fingers along the Prince’s cold skin. Swirling it around, he took a small sip and turned towards the crowd of demons behind him.
“Everyone seems so shocked to see me!” he yelled. “I seem to be the one lover that got away alive!”
Looking amused, Mr. Mon leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Lover is such a strong word. You seem to forget that I’m a Prince of Hell, Orion. You were nothing more than a card I wanted to play and you know I always beat the odds.” He smiled and his eyes narrowed.
Anger rose up through Orion’s body, his mind flooded with memories of their time together. At the time when they met at the casino, Orion’s life meant nothing, it was meaningless, and the cost of some joy was only his soul. Little did he know how easily manipulated he would be by this Prince.
Orion laughed and downed the remainder of the bourbon. He set the glass gently on a side table and looked down at Mr. Mon, still seated in the velvet chair. He placed his hands on the armrests, his face hovering just above the Prince’s. “I’ll be waiting in your office,” he said, glaring into those empty red eyes.
