Hellfire – Princess of Hell

The acrid tang of Blazeroot still clung to my uniform as we stepped out of the lab. My fingers carried traces of silver residue from the Moonpetal we’d processed—I’d need to wash them before the substance stained my skin permanently.

Isabella glanced at Aria. “I’m impressed.”

Aria blinked. “By what?”

“Your skill.”

“I—” Aria’s tail perked up. “I can be good at some things that involve thinking. Just because I don’t like to think too much doesn’t mean I can’t.”

I couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that escaped. “You’re probably the best in our year. Did you see how Auriel watched you during the extraction?”

Aria preened, wings fluttering briefly. “See? I’m useful, even outside my normal comfort zone.” She bumped my hip with hers. “Just like Lily, who’s good at seduction even if she’d rather overthink everything.”

I stared at her.

Exasperated? Tired? Both?

My mouth opened. Closed. I had no comeback that wouldn’t validate her point.

Isabella’s lips curved. Not quite a smile, but close enough.

“Three hours,” she said. “My apartment. Don’t be late.”

Aria saluted mockingly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Isabella departed toward the residential district, her posture perfect even in the crowded hallway.

Aria turned to me. “Library?”

“Library,” I confirmed.

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going shopping. Try not to get lost in dusty books about… whatever boring thing you’re researching.”

She bounced away, humming something off-key.

I watched her go, then shifted direction toward the main academic building.

The library. Right.

I needed information. Summoning contracts. Possession mechanics. Body-swapping rituals—anything that might let me contact the real Lilithiel. Force a conversation. Negotiate terms.

Because if she was in my body, living my life…

My jaw tightened.

She’d smiled at me through that mirror. Red eyes gleaming. Like she’d won something.

The memory made my tail lash.

I forced it still.

Focus. Research. Find a solution.

Maybe Meridia would know something about possession magic. Or dimensional communication spells that didn’t require mourning bells and shattered mirrors.

I rounded the corner toward the library tower.

* * *

The library tower rose ahead, its dark windows absorbing the perpetual crimson glow of the sky. I pushed through the entrance.

Cool air hit my skin. The temperature drop was immediate, precise—enchantments maintaining optimal preservation conditions for parchment and leather.

Books drifted past, floating between shelves that stretched toward the ceiling. The eternal flame flickered somewhere far above, casting shadows that moved wrong.

Meridia sat behind her desk, chin propped on one pale hand. Her dark-circled eyes tracked my approach.

“Miss Nightstar.” She straightened slightly. “You’re quite diligent.”

I stopped at the desk’s edge. “I need to research.”

“Mm. I’ve only seen one other student visit as often as you do.” Her lips curved into something almost resembling interest. “Though she favours different sections.”

Who—

I cut the thought off.

No. Focus.

“I’m looking for books on summoning,” I said. “Specifically the mechanics of how they work.”

One eyebrow rose. “Trying to get ahead in Occult Law?”

“Something like that.” I paused. “Also anything on possessions. Or body swaps.”

Both eyebrows now.

Meridia leaned back in her chair. “Someone’s trying to possess a mortal.”

I didn’t correct her.

Her gaze held mine. “Watch yourself. Get stuck on the other side, and you’ll stop showing up. Would be a shame to lose such a diligent student to expulsion.”

Let her think whatever she wanted. Better than the truth.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Of course you will.” She gestured lazily.

Books shot from shelves across the room. They streaked through the air, trailing faint luminescence, before settling onto the desk in a neat stack.

Principles of Summoning Circles: Theory and Practice

The Voided Contract: Breaking Occult Bonds

Possession and the Mortal Soul

Dimensional Anchoring for the Intermediate Practitioner

The fourth one—that might have information about communicating across planes. If I could find a way to contact her, force a conversation…

Meridia waved toward the reading areas. “Have fun.”

I gathered the stack, the leather covers cool against my forearms. “Thank you.”

She was already slouching back down, eyes half-closed.

I found a corner table near one of the floating platforms. Set the books down. Pulled the first one toward me.

Principles of Summoning Circles.

My fingers traced the embossed title.

Somewhere, the real Lilithiel was walking around in my body. Living my life. Going to my job—or had she already quit? Was she talking to Daniel? Mark?

My jaw clenched.

The memory of her smirk burned.

I opened the book.

* * *

The text swam before my eyes for a moment before sharpening into perfect clarity.

I’d noticed it before but hadn’t dwelled on it—the way words resolved themselves almost instantly. No squinting, no re-reading sentences to parse meaning. Just immediate comprehension, each page absorbed in seconds rather than minutes.

Another advantage of this body.

Even if it came packaged with the hunger already stirring low in my gut.

I flipped to the next page. Started taking notes.

The pencil moved across parchment in quick, efficient strokes. Diagrams, annotations, key phrases. The familiar rhythm of research helped push the awareness of my body’s needs into the background.

Basic Summoning Circle: General Classification

I copied the geometric pattern. A standard circle, simple enough that even a desperate amateur could manage it. The diagram showed a demon stepping inside, making themselves available to answer any summons requesting their general type.

So some sex-starved pervert or desperate virgin mage somewhere on Earth could pull me through.

My hand paused mid-stroke.

Actually… that could work. Better than some politician expecting god knows what of her.

I kept reading.

There was a variant—smaller, requiring a vial of the demon’s blood placed at the centre. Same principle, but I wouldn’t need to stand inside the circle like some department store mannequin waiting for a customer. The downside: zero control over timing. Could be summoned in the middle of class.

I’d start with the standard version. See how long it took.

The real problem sat three paragraphs down.

Planar Attunement: Advanced Configurations

I scanned the section. Frowned.

Right. Of course it wasn’t that simple.

Without proper attunement, the circle would accept summons from anywhere. Any mortal realm. And given that Bellas was an elf, there were clearly more worlds than just Earth out there.

I could end up in some medieval fantasy kingdom instead of London.

I tapped the pencil against the page.

Didn’t need to become an expert. Didn’t need to pass Occult Law with honours or master dimensional theory. I just needed one working recipe—the magical equivalent of knowing which buttons to press without understanding the circuit board underneath.

Configure the circle. Attune it to Earth specifically. Don’t get scammed by whatever mortal summoned me.

The book mentioned basic contracts built into beginner circles. Demon grants wish, payment negotiated upon arrival.

I could handle negotiations. Reading people had always been my strength, and that translated just fine into this body.

Plan solidified in my mind like cooling metal taking shape.

I stood, gathering my notes.

Meridia glanced up as I approached her desk.

“I need something on mortal realms,” I said.

She gestured without looking. A book shot from a nearby shelf and landed in my hands with a soft thump.

The Seven Mortal Worlds and Their Daughters

“Thanks.”

“Mm.” Her eyes half-closed again, but her mouth curved slightly. “I remember possessing my first mortal. Princess in some tiny kingdom. Entered a two-hundred-year sleep with the entire realm the day after I arrived.”

I blinked.

“Most peaceful two centuries of my existence,” she continued, almost wistful. “No students. No floating books. Just… silence.”

“Sounds nice,” I said, because what else was there to say to that?

She waved me off.

I returned to my table and opened the new book.

Seven primary mortal realms. Each realm possessing seven variant timelines.

My pencil stilled.

Forty-nine possible destinations.

Forty-nine versions of “Earth”—or not Earth at all, but places called Arborea, Graveworth, Aethelgard…

I scanned the list. None of them were labelled “Earth.” Just these fantasy names with brief descriptions of magic levels and dominant species.

I stood again.

Meridia didn’t look up as I approached. “Persistent, aren’t you?”

“The book mentions seven realms,” I said. “But it doesn’t explain how they’re organized. Or why there are exactly seven variants of each.”

“Not a professor.”

“I know. But—”

“It’s what The Creator decided.” She straightened enough to meet my eyes. “Why? Nobody knows. Maybe it amused him. Maybe there’s some grand design.” A shrug. “Perhaps Lucifer knows, given their history. But I doubt you can arrange an audience with the King of Hell to ask about cosmological trivia.”

My tail twitched.

“And even if you could,” Meridia added, “you’d probably end up in the pits for wasting his time on such questions.”

Right. Of course.

“Thanks anyway,” I said.

She was already slouching back down.

I returned to my seat and stared at the page.

Forty-nine possibilities. Somewhere in that list was the world I came from—the version with London, with Daniel, with my apartment and my life.

The version where the real Lilithiel was currently wearing my face.

I pulled the book closer and started reading, searching for anything that would tell me which realm was mine.

* * *

Forty-nine worlds.

I stared at the description under Eretz-1: Technologically advanced. Human-dominated. Arcane traditions exist but remain hidden from majority populations.

My pencil tapped against the page.

That… could be Earth. Advanced technology, humans everywhere, magic hidden—fit perfectly with my memories of London. Churches and crosses and nobody believing in any of it. Magic dismissed as superstition while demons ran nightclubs in Hell’s first circle.

The problem sat two words back: could be.

All forty-nine variants had magic. The difference was how obvious it was. Some worlds had wizards running governments. Others kept it underground. Eretz-1 fell into the latter category, which matched what I knew.

Or it matched what I thought I knew.

I caught myself chewing the inside of my cheek and stopped.

Twenty-four days ago, I’d believed magic was fiction. Now I was a demon princess researching dimensional mechanics. My track record for knowing what was real wasn’t exactly stellar.

Still. Eretz-1 was the closest match. Either that was home, or my universe existed outside the documented forty-nine entirely.

Wouldn’t surprise me at this point.

I closed the book and pulled my notes closer.

Right. Next problem.

Contacting someone across dimensions required either matching paired artifacts—which I didn’t have—or magic so advanced the text assumed multiple decades of study. Neither option worked.

But I had found instructions for attuning a summoning circle to specific realms.

The process looked complicated but not impossible. Configure the geometric patterns correctly, infuse the right resonance, hope some desperate mortal on Eretz-1 performed the ritual.

I’d get yanked through to… wherever they were. Probably not London. Statistically, definitely not London.

But I could make phone calls from anywhere. Find a phone, dial my old number, see if the real Lilithiel picked up.

Worth a shot.

My tail curled against the chair leg.

The possession text sat beside my notes, still open to the chapter on botched transfers. I’d only skimmed it—time constraints—but the core mechanics seemed straightforward enough. Figure it out on Earth’s side. Propose a swap to Lilithiel.

She’d cooperate. Had to. We were both stuck in the wrong bodies.

Unless she wasn’t stuck. Unless she’d chosen this.

I remembered her smirk in the mirror. The flash in her eyes.

My hand tightened on the pencil.

No. Focus. One problem at a time.

If Lilithiel refused negotiation, there were alternatives. Possession didn’t require consent—just skill and the right spell. Worst case, I’d force the issue.

I gathered my notes and stood.

Meridia glanced up as I approached her desk with the stack of books.

“Finished corrupting yourself?” she asked.

“For now.”

“Mm.” She waved a hand. The books floated from my arms and drifted back toward their shelves. “Word of advice.”

I waited.

“Possessions are tricky.” Her half-closed eyes fixed on me. “Botch the transition and you’ll be stuck sharing the body. Or worse—trapped as a passenger with no control. Some demons spend decades like that, watching through someone else’s eyes until the mortal finally dies.”

My stomach dropped.

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

“You won’t.” She slouched lower. “Nobody ever is. But good luck anyway.”

I left before she could elaborate.

The corridor outside felt warmer than it should. I pressed my notes into the spatial ring and headed for the exit.

Isabella’s apartment. We’d agreed to meet there an hour ago—I was late, but research had taken priority. Apparently she wanted to ask us for a favour. Details unclear.

My heels clicked against stone as I descended the spiral staircase.

Tonight, maybe. If I could configure the circle correctly, infuse it tonight, wait for someone to perform the ritual…

I could be home by morning.

The thought should’ve brought relief.

Instead, something twisted in my chest—unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I pushed it aside.

Twenty-four days in Hell. Eight days since meeting Aria. Four since Isabella joined our strange little alliance.

Not long enough to matter.

I reached the ground floor and stepped into the evening heat. The sky above Ardorkeep glowed its usual volcanic red, and the scent of sulfur mixed with something sweet from a nearby food stall.

My tail swayed as I walked.

The summoning circle would work. Had to. And once I explained the situation to Lilithiel—calmly, rationally—she’d see reason. We’d swap back, resume our original lives, pretend none of this ever happened.

Simple.

I turned the corner toward the residential district, and my mouth curved despite myself.

Maybe I’d actually pull this off.

Maybe tonight, I’d finally go home.

* * *

The dormitory door swung open, and I followed Aria inside.

Three hours. Isabella had kept us for three hours.

Most of it had been useful—mapping out our response strategies for Scarlet’s geopolitics simulation, identifying which students we could exploit, which ones posed actual threats. Isabella had a mind for this sort of thing. Sharp, systematic. We’d covered more ground in one session than most groups would manage in a week.

Then Aria had suggested cards.

Then Isabella had produced wine.

And somehow I’d lost track of time completely.

“I can’t believe you made a bet with Isabella,” I said.

Aria grinned over her shoulder. “About?”

“About me being late. An hour late. Because I ‘overstayed at the library.’” I pulled off my jacket and tossed it onto my bed. “You wagered ten souls on my punctuality.”

“And I won.” She flopped onto her mattress, wings spreading across the sheets. “Easy money.”

“Still.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “I’ll give you half.”

Five souls. A pittance from the allowance Lilith provided, but the principle grated.

I opened my mouth to argue, then caught movement near the bathroom.

Bellas emerged, freshly bathed. His damp hair clung to his shoulders, and he’d wrapped a towel around his waist. He stopped when he saw us, eyes dropping immediately.

“Mistresses. Welcome back.”

“Bellas.” Aria sat up, patting the bed beside her. “Come here. I need a massage.”

He crossed the room without hesitation.

I watched him settle behind Aria, hands moving to her shoulders with practiced efficiency. She sighed and let her head fall forward.

My tail curled against my ankle.

Right. The bet. I’d been annoyed about the bet.

Except now I couldn’t remember why it mattered.

I sat on the edge of my own bed and reached for my shoes. The buckles came undone easily—muscle memory again. My fingers knew the clasps better than my mind did.

“Anyway,” I said. “What do you think about that errand Isabella wants us to do tomorrow?”

Aria made a soft sound as Bellas worked a knot from her shoulder. “Mm. Don’t know. Hopefully won’t take too long.”

“She was vague about it.”

“Shopping trip, probably.” Aria’s wings shifted, one draping lazily over the side of the bed. “She’s got that noble thing where she can’t just say ‘I want company,’ so she invents reasons.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely. And we have the evening booked, so.” She glanced back at me, grinning. “Fun times.”

The evening. Right. We’d agreed to test those lollipops Aria had bought, though I’d successfully avoided thinking about the specifics until now.

My tail twitched.

Aria shifted position, stretching her arms above her head. Bellas adjusted without needing instruction, moving to work on her lower back instead.

“Speaking of fun,” she said. “You should feed more.”

I pulled my second boot off and set it beside the first. “I’m not hungry yet.”

“It’s not only about hunger.” She twisted to look at me properly, expression unusually serious. “Succubi need vital essence. You should keep your reservoir high, not wait until you’re starving.”

“I fed six days ago.”

“Exactly.” She sat up fully, dislodging Bellas’s hands. “That’s not healthy mentality, Lily. You should be feeding every day. Every other day at minimum. Not whenever you’re desperate.”

The concern in her voice caught me off guard.

I looked away, focusing on the spatial ring instead. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Not maybe.”

“Aria—”

“Bellas can take it.” She gestured at him, still kneeling behind her on the bed. “He was made for this. Literally. That’s what the modifications are for.”

I knew that. Intellectually, I knew that.

But something about the casual efficiency of it—the idea of feeding just because I could, not because I needed to—felt like crossing another line I hadn’t examined yet.

My fingers tightened on the ring.

“You know what?” Aria’s face lit up. “We’ll take him to Isabella’s tomorrow. After whatever errand she’s got planned. Have some fun with Brutus too.”

The image formed before I could stop it. The four of us—me, Aria, Isabella—and both slaves laid out like a buffet.

My pulse jumped.

No. Research. I had research to do.

“Actually,” I said, standing. “I wanted to ask you about the geopolitics readings. Scarlet assigned three chapters, and I’m not sure—”

“Lily.”

“What?”

Aria stared at me. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you change the subject when you don’t want to talk about something.” She crossed her arms. “It’s very obvious.”

My tail coiled tight against my leg.

“I’m not—”

“You are.” But her expression softened. “Fine. We’ll talk about boring political theory if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t what I wanted.

I didn’t know what I wanted.

I looked at Bellas, still waiting patiently on Aria’s bed. At my own bed, perfectly made. At the bathroom, where I’d wanted to draw the circle tonight.

Configure the geometry, test the resonance patterns, hope someone on Earth performed the ritual soon.

Go home.

My chest felt tight.

“The readings,” I said. “Chapter seven specifically. Scarlet’s framework for—”

“Lily.” Aria’s voice cut through mine, sharper than before. “Stop.”

I stopped.

She was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t parse. Not angry. Not amused. Something softer that made my chest tighten.

“I love you,” she said. “You know that, right? But I’m not going to talk about geopolitics at midnight when you’re clearly just trying to avoid something.”

The words landed wrong. Too casual. Too easy.

Love.

She’d said it like it was obvious. Like it cost nothing.

My throat closed.

“I’m not—” I started.

“You are.” She stretched, wings spreading wide enough to brush the ceiling before folding tight again. “Look, I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

She patted the bed beside her.

Not an invitation for sex. Just… closeness.

I stared at the space she’d indicated. At Bellas, who’d already moved to one of the spare beds without being told. At Aria, who was watching me with those purple eyes that saw too much.

“I’m going to take a bath first,” I said.

The words came out steadier than I felt.

Aria laughed, the sound warm and uncomplicated. “You take one every night. It’s kind of adorable, honestly.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Succubi don’t need to bathe as often as you do. We don’t sweat the same way mortal do, don’t collect grime.” She grinned. “But I appreciate the effort. You always smell nice.”

Right. Of course. Another thing I should have known.

Another thing that marked me as different.

“Goodnight, Aria,” I said.

“Night, Lily.”

I crossed to the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

The silence hit immediately. No Aria. No Bellas. No eyes tracking my movement.

Just me and the marble and the brass fixtures gleaming in the dim light.

I leaned against the door.

My hands were shaking.

I love you.

She’d said it like it was nothing. Like we were friends—actual friends—and that was just something people said to each other.

Maybe it was.

Maybe I’d forgotten.

Daniel used to say things like that. Love you, bro, tossed out at the end of phone calls or after particularly terrible movie nights. Casual affection wrapped in words that didn’t demand anything back.

But Daniel was—

Daniel was gone. London was gone. Liam was gone.

My chest hurt.

I pushed off the door and moved to the tub. The enchanted faucet responded to my hand without conscious effort, water pouring in the exact temperature I wanted.

Another thing the body knew that I didn’t.

I started undoing the laces of my uniform, fingers moving through the familiar pattern. The corset came off. The skirt. The stockings.

Piece by piece until I was standing naked in the dim light, watching steam rise from the filling tub.

I should be drawing the circle. Testing the resonance. Configuring the geometry tonight so I’d be ready when someone—anyone—performed the ritual on Earth.

Go home.

My reflection stared back from the mirror above the sink. White hair. Red eyes. Horns curving back from my forehead.

I looked away.

The water was almost ready.

* * *

The water was perfect. Hot enough to sting, not enough to hurt.

I sank into it slowly, letting the heat work into muscles that didn’t technically need the relief but responded to it anyway. Another disconnect. Another thing that should feel wrong but didn’t.

The steam rose around me. I watched it curl toward the ceiling, following invisible currents.

I love you.

My chest tightened again.

I forced myself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Old habits from a body that actually needed oxygen.

This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.

Aria had meant it platonically. Obviously. Friends said things like that to each other all the time. It didn’t mean anything.

Except I’d started thinking of her as mine.

And Isabella. And even Bellas, in a different way.

My tail drifted through the water, the spade tip tracing lazy patterns. I watched it move, this thing that shouldn’t be part of me but was. No conscious thought required. Just existence.

Tomorrow Isabella wanted us at her apartment. For whatever they had planned when they said I’d be taking the passive role.

Part of me wanted to know what that meant.

Most of me knew I couldn’t afford to find out.

I’d already crossed too many lines. Already let too much become normal. If I stayed much longer, if I kept feeding this… whatever this was becoming…

I’d forget why I wanted to leave.

The water lapped against the marble. Soft, rhythmic. Almost hypnotic.

I counted Aria’s breaths through the wall. Slow. Even. Deep.

Asleep.

My heart rate picked up.

Now or never.

I stood, water sluicing off skin that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Another thing I’d stopped noticing—the way this body caught and held luminescence like it was made for it.

The towel dried me efficiently. Muscle memory again, movements I’d never learned but executed perfectly.

I cracked the door open.

Aria was a dark shape in her bed, wings folded, breathing steady. Bellas occupied one of the spare beds, motionless in whatever passed for sleep for the elves.

Neither stirred.

I crossed to my desk. The chalk was in the bottom drawer, tucked behind textbooks I’d actually been reading. White, pure, enchanted for ritual use according to the supply list Meridia had given me.

My hands didn’t shake as I returned to the bathroom. They should have. This was insane. Reckless. Completely unlike anything Liam would have done without triple-checking every variable, running every simulation, accounting for every—

I knelt on the floor and started drawing.

The geometry came easily. Of course it did. I’d studied the patterns for hours, yes, but my hand moved with certainty that went deeper than memorization. Another confirmation of whatever knowledge this body held. Instinctive. Built-in.

Twenty minutes. The circle complete, every line precise, every angle exact. I’d checked it three times against the diagrams in my notes. Attuned specifically to Eretz-1, the designation that had to be Earth, had to be home, because the description matched and I refused to consider alternatives.

I sat back on my heels.

A drop of blood. That’s all it needed now.

My tail curled around to where I could see it. The spade tip shifted, edges sharpening from soft to surgical with a thought.

I pressed it to my thumb.

The pain was brief. The blood welled dark against pale skin, almost black in the low light.

One drop fell into the circle’s centre.

The chalk lines began to glow.

I stepped inside and sat, legs crossed, hands on my knees. Waiting.

My mind started calculating automatically. Eight billion people on Earth. Assume 0.01% knew about magic—optimistic, probably, but possible. Of those, maybe 1% would attempt demon summoning. Of those, an even smaller percentage would specifically call for a succubus rather than something more usef—

The world lurched.

Reality twisted, folded, compressed into a singularity that lasted forever and no time at all.

Then I was sitting in a different circle.

Wooden floor. Slanted ceiling. Attic space, cramped and cluttered with boxes. The air smelled different—dustier, warmer, touched with incense that made my nose itch.

Three figures stood around the circle’s edge.

Young. Male. Late teens, early twenties maybe. Dark hair, features I couldn’t quite place. Not European. Asian, probably Japanese or Korean based on—

One of them said something sharp and excited.

Japanese. I recognized the cadence from anime I’d watched with Faith during lazy weekends that felt like they’d happened to someone else.

But I understood him.

Not the words themselves—those were foreign, shaped wrong for English—but the meaning arrived a heartbeat behind the sound. Crystal clear.

“Holy shit, it actually worked!”

Right. The demon translation thing. I’d read about it in the palace library, assumed it was why I understood Infernal, but apparently that understanding was just built into the body. This was different. Active. The linguistic gap bridging itself in real-time.

Well. At least I hadn’t ended up somewhere without phone service.

The three were arguing now, voices overlapping.

“I’m going first—”

“Like hell you are, I drew the circle—”

“Neither of you know what you’re doing—”

I took a breath.

This was going to be a long night.

“Hey,” I said.

Three heads snapped toward me.

* * *

They stared.

All three of them. Eyes wide, mouths slightly open, faces cycling through expressions faster than I could catalogue them.

Right.

I glanced down.

Naked. Completely. The towel was back in the bathroom in Hell, and apparently summoning circles didn’t include a complimentary wardrobe service.

My first instinct was to cover myself. My hands actually started moving before I caught the impulse and stopped it.

Why bother? This body didn’t have modesty built into it. The embarrassment I should be feeling was… absent. Intellectual awareness that humans considered nudity awkward, sure. Actual discomfort? Nothing.

I settled for sitting cross-legged, which at least gave them less to stare at.

“So,” I said. “Breaking the circle. That’s an option, right?”

One of them—shortest of the three, glasses, looked youngest—jerked like I’d slapped him.

“Y-yes,” he stammered in Japanese. “We could—”

“Are you insane?”

The tallest one grabbed Glasses by the shoulder, yanking him back from the circle’s edge.

“You can’t break it before the contract! That’s the whole point! It’s the only thing keeping—”

He gestured at me, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

Ah.

Right. The books had mentioned that. Circle acts as a barrier between Hell and the mortal realm. Break it after summoning but before establishing a binding contract, and the demon gets free passage. Temporary, sure—they’d get yanked back eventually without proper anchoring—but enough time to cause problems.

Or, in my case, enough time to find Lilithiel and have a very pointed conversation about body ownership.

Worth a shot.

“What do you want?” I asked.

The question seemed to confuse them. They exchanged glances.

The third one—medium height, styled hair that probably took effort—cleared his throat.

“We… want…”

His face went red. Actually red. Fascinating how visible the blood flow was in humans compared to demons.

“Sex,” Glasses blurted. “We want to have sex.”

Tall One elbowed him. “Don’t just—”

“She asked!” Glasses gestured at me. “The succubus asked what we wanted, I told her what we wanted, that’s how this works!”

“We’re virgins,” Styled Hair added, like that explained everything. “All three of us. We thought…”

He trailed off, apparently realizing mid-sentence how ridiculous this was.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

This was going to be a long night.

Three virgins. Of course. Summoning a succubus because they couldn’t get laid through normal channels. The cosmic irony wasn’t lost on me—I’d spent weeks trying not to be a succubus, and here were three humans actively seeking one out for the most stereotypical reason imaginable.

A thought whispered in the back of my mind. Quiet. Practical.

I could just agree. Make the deal. Get out of the circle. Then find Lilithiel before the contract pulls me back.

My tail swayed.

I noticed it a second too late. The movement had been unconscious, lazy, the spade tip drawing a slow figure-eight in the air behind me.

All three of them tracked it. Their eyes followed the motion like they were hypnotized.

Oh.

That’s what I looked like to them. Not Liam in a demon costume. Not a human playing dress-up.

An actual succubus. Horns catching the dim light. Wings folded against my back. Skin that gleamed faintly even in shadow. Every movement fluid, natural, predatory in ways I’d stopped noticing because everyone in Hell moved like this.

Here, it made them stammer and blush and lean forward without realizing they were doing it.

Glasses adjusted his frames with shaking hands.

Styled Hair’s breathing had gone shallow.

Tall One was trying very hard to look at my face and failing spectacularly.

“Right,” I said. “So. Virgins. The three of you.”

“Yes,” they chorused.

“Before we talk deals—does anyone here have a phone I could borrow?”