Callum was not a helper by nature. He wasn’t a friend to call if you needed assistance moving, and he tended to offer terrible advice even at the best of times. He generally only involved himself in something that wasn’t being purely slothful when it interested him, and what interested him was unseemly things. So it went. Luckily, Sabrina had needed help with something unseemly.
Callum wasn’t wearing his Demonikea uniform, or any Demonikea uniform, looking instead as if he’d stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. The lingonberries soda he was drinking only added to the insouciant effect. His boss had seen him loitering about, not wearing Demonikea colors or sensible work shoes, and had said nothing and waved, because Callum kept the man (demon…? whatever) blasted on sensations of goodwill all day. Which left him open to assisting Sabrina in her task.
That was the question, wasn’t it? Killing her demon council and replacing it with others that were equally obstinate and annoying would be a headache. She wanted things running smoothly and with less effort from her, not to accidentally create a need for her to be in Hell even more. Plus demons who didn’t argue with her twenty-four seven about her wanting to release souls would be a very nice plus.
She sipped at her lemon water and glanced around at his coworkers that were actually working. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to be spending one of her days off from the musical but at least Callum was amusing and she’d check another item off her to-do list.
“Hard working suck ups would honestly be the best. I don’t really care how many limbs they have. Ones that follow orders without questioning them and aren’t trying to climb the corporate ladder,” Sabrina said, ticking up a finger for each piece. “Oh and at least one who likes making everyone else’s life Hell just because it amuses them. They’re the best for overseeing things.”
“So you need middle managers, but lazy ones.” Callum was familiar with the breed, even if he rarely dealt with them. His abilities were frequently abused here at Demonikea, which meant that while he was treated with kindness, leniency and compassion, he observed what his fellow employees went through. With a loud sip of his drink, he walked them over to the Employee of the Month wall. A sea of smiling Callums greeted them - Callum grinning at the camera in December, Callum shooting fingerguns at the camera in May, Callum wearing sunglasses and looking hungover in July. Employee of the month every month he’d been at Demonikea.
“Not me, obviously,” he said, and steered Sabrina to the string of pictures before he’d arrived. “But here are the tryhard assholes that came before. November and August are humans; the rest are demonic. I think. August is a little weird but she may just be on the keto diet; it’s hard to tell.” He turned to Sabrina. “Since you’ll never meet my parents, how do you feel about meeting my coworkers? They’re awful,” he drawled in a tempting voice.
That was precisely what she needed. They were the easiest ones to mold and keep in line. Anyone with actual ambition would be a headache and a half and easily manipulated by the current demon management in Hell she couldn’t get rid of right away. “Sounds delightful,” she replied, all smiles as she tucked her arm into his. “But we can skip the ones you know are human. They’d be eaten alive.” Literally.
It was difficult to tell through the photographs who would be the best picks. So far they looked fairly normal. That could be a good thing. It’d keep the others on their toes. “Are any of them seemingly sweet but can tear a person down in seconds? Or so mindnumbingly annoying with how much they breathe down their underlings neck to get tasks done on time while never actually lifting a finger themselves?”
Seemingly sweet but vicious? Control freak? Callum considered the proposition for a moment before giving her arm a little tug. “Follow me.”
He’d worked here a while now; he knew his coworkers. While demons weren’t as easy to read as people, he got a general impression of their emotions, from time to time, and let’s face it - a lot of demons weren’t subtle at all. Hell, there was a wardrobe that was possessed that just chanted a litany of KILL! KILL! KILL! all the time; no bonus points for figuring out what it’s ambition was.
Callum took Sabrina down one flight of stairs into the housewares section, and past an “Employees Only” sign that he ignored. He took her into a little office area just down the hall from what looked like a break room and knocked on the door.
“What,” came a humanish voice behind the door. The “ish” was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
“It’s Callum Nova.”
A sigh. “Fuck off.”
“I have someone here who might be interested in poaching you for a new job.”
The door swung open seemingly by its own account. The woman sitting at the desk (“Meredith Blackheart”, if the nameplate was any indication) seemed human, were it not for the neat horns just above her ears and the blackened tips of her fingers. She gazed at Sabrina in pensive, but not quite open disgust. “I’m not looking at a job for the moment.”
Callum knew she was lying. The demon was curious. He looked at Sabrina and gave a little shake of his head to indicate as much.
Demons lied. It was as simple as breathing to some of them. Unlike the fae in her world who couldn’t tell a lie but got by with a lot of half-truths. Sabrina preferred the demons. Usually she didn’t need to ponder all of the possible outcomes of a statement with them. At least in her world. Vallo’s versions seemed to encompass a variety of them, some familiar and many not, but all of them seemed to enjoy having power over others.
“You really shouldn’t turn down an opportunity before you know what it entails.” Sabrina strode into the room and sat down on one of the chairs, treating it like the grand throne back in her version of Hell. She waved her hand, closing the door and an antique set of Roman glassware appeared on the desk, along with a bottle of wine and another of blood. She didn’t know the demon’s preferences yet. Supposedly it had been used by Diocletian; if the records in Hell were true.
“I doubt someone of your calibre is finding any real satisfaction in peddling cursed furniture to mortals and others.” Sabrina offered Callum a glass of the wine before taking one for herself. “Only ever glimpsing the chaos and pain that they’re experiencing but not really getting to taste it has to be pretty annoying. I hear Baker and Rowe don’t like to share as much as they should.”
Sabrina had done her research thank you very much.
Meredith strummed her blackened fingers along the desk but picked up the glass of blood. “I’ve potential openings for a place in Hell--the one that didn’t disappear.” Sabrina flicked up a finger for each benefit, “An eternity of torturing souls, aggravating fellow demons, and feeding off all that pain to your heart’s content.” Or whatever she might need as nourishment. It depended on the demon.
“What’s the catch?”
“You try to betray me and you’ll get torn to pieces by my hounds.” Repeatedly. Being nice got no one anywhere in Hell. “I don’t need an answer right away. Think about it. Decide if you’re satisfied with the dregs siphoned from here.” Sabrina rose, downing her wine and set the glass back down on the table. “If not, you can let Callum know. He knows how to reach me.”
A neatly wrapped gift box appeared on the table as the Roman set disappeared. “A token of what you can expect in Hell. Don’t open it until we leave.” There were some things Sabrina didn’t want Callum to see.
…which meant Callum was dying to know what was in that box. He didn’t interfere, however, standing half-in the doorway as he was, enjoying watching Sabrina work. Competence was always a lot more intriguing to him than dithering about moral quandaries, and it was one of Sabrina’s traits he genuinely liked.
He gave Meredith a mocking little bow as they left her office; she had picked up the box and was examining it with a mixture of suspicion and contained excitement. Callum didn’t need emotional empathy to know that the demon was tentatively hooked.
“That was fun,” he observed cheerily, always finding manipulation to be a real banger. “Thought the bit about how I know how to contact you was cute. Now, do you want someone aggressively stupid? Cause those I have in spades.” Meredith was self-sufficient; an excellent middle manager for a public face. But there were some real pieces of work here.
“If they can manage to talk to you then they passed at least one test.” Sabrina had seen the distance he managed to keep others from him whenever she’d popped into bug him and did some shopping. “I’ll need some semi-competant ones too at some point but yes please show me some ridiculously stupid ones.” Maybe she could pin the demon deaths that were coming on the incompetence of the new ones. It was something to consider, but getting Maze to simply eat them seemed the most efficient and least messy for her to deal with.
Sabrina hadn’t bothered to memorize every demon that resided in Hell’s name. There were too many of them, with countless kings and princes and dukes and other random monikers that made her head spin. She’d considered it when she was first thrust into the role at sixteen (after denying her connection to it for months on end), but in the end, they needed her more than she needed them. Plus they’d shown that they were terrified of her and she was counting that as a plus.
“Is there anyone you don’t want me to pawn?” Maybe he had…well, she wouldn’t say friends but coworkers he found amusing?
Callum was heading down to the break room with a nonchalant air, figuring that any number of idiots would probably be there. He never bothered with the break room (he abused his abilities to order in food whenever he wished it, and ate it at one of the show dining tables), but every time he had entered it, it was stuffed to the gills with demons trying to avoid getting back to work. He couldn’t blame them. Who wanted to work for a living, even if the “work” was a front for evil magic?
At her question, he shrugged. “It’s a smorgasbord, Sabrina. All-you-can-eat. There’s always going to be more demons from somewhere; I doubt I’ll miss anyone.” Where did demons come from? Vallo’s own hell? Who knew. Callum didn’t particularly care about the origin so much as he cared about continuing to half-ass (quarter-ass? 1/10ths ass?) his job and nonetheless still receive a paycheck at the end of things.
A--- well, “humanoid” figure came out of the breakroom, wearing the proper Demonikea uniform and polishing his badge which read “Steve”.
“Sabrina,” Callum said, suddenly snapping to attention with an unctuous voice, “may I introduce you to… Steve of the Deep.” He wagged his eyebrows.
Steve frowned, and looked vaguely confused. Or just vague. “No need to use my full title,” he said with the self-important air of someone who had never actually had to say that in his entire life because no one took him seriously to begin with.
Oh, Steve was perfect. Easily moldable, completely lacking in any ambition; he’d probably manage to do nothing of any real consequence. Irritate some of the upper echelon of demons, but they’d be bored with complete placency anyway.
He wasn’t getting a box.
Sabrina extended a hand, mouth curling into a wicked grin as she shook Steve’s hand. There was little point in delving into his thoughts or emotions and she wasn’t about to waste her time going over the benefits of switching to Hell.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the gates,” Sabrina said, dropping the barriers on her persuasive ability. It curled around the demon, his eyes glazing over as he nodded his assent, her words digging deep and taking root. “One of my hounds will lead you to it.” She patted Steve on the arm, nodding toward the exit. “You should leave now. Turn in your uniform.” She wiped her hands on her dress as he followed her directions.
Sabrina turned back toward Callum, clasping her hands together as she hummed. “I’d like ten more like him, please.”
“They tend to work in check out,” Callum said, leading the way. “I think it’s all the customer service. They wind up with nothing left to live for.” Boy, would the Alexandrian Society be upset about that show of power. Callum fantasized about a world in which Libby and Tristan were forced to watch Sabrina use and abuse her powers. Possibly she’d set fire to the library. Or maybe Nico? Who knew. It was a lovely thought, either way.
He indicated the hallway with a jut of his chin, and they cut through homewares. Callum grabbed a wreath and placed it on Sabrina’s head as they passed by; it wasn’t quite a crown but it fit the ridiculousness of the situation, he felt. “Look for Toni, Vernon, and Raaschar. I mispronounced that last one, but I don’t speak hell.”
Sabrina made a mental note of the names as she stopped in front of a long mirror to adjust the wreath. “I’m going to kill a bunch of the demons in my Hell. I’m not sure exactly how many, but the annoying ones who think they get a say in anything are all going.” She said it matter of factly. As though she was deciding on the napkin color for some fancy dinner.
She wasn’t sixteen anymore, no longer internally fighting over what to do with Hell. It was hers. They could do what she wanted or die. Nor was she agonizing over how to pay back the world for being a monster. Or thinking she was one because of her father. She wasn’t necessarily good or bad, but a piece of her world that needed to exist for the universe to keep on moving along.
“I’m thinking of inviting them all to a little soiree in the throne room and then.” Well. Sabrina shrugged. She’d smite them. “Do you want to be my plus one?”
Murderous vengeance and the most fucked up way to handle HR problems Callum had ever heard of? Sign him the fuck up. “You know I love a soiree. You’ll have to tell me the dress code, though,” Callum drawled. “I’ve never been to a smiting.” Black silk, maybe? Red accessories? Seemed a little on the nose, but tradition was tradition for a reason.
Demons dying didn’t bother him any. Hell, people died all the time, bucketloads of them, and he didn’t care much about that either because what could he do about it? If Sabrina was on a kick to claim her birthright or whatever, fine with him. Her friends could worry about her moral compass if they’d liked. Callum just wanted her satisfied with results.
“Now don’t work too hard, darling,” he advised with full irony, giving her a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I can only fetch your house slippers and provide you with a pick-me-up at the end of the day.” Oh - he straightened - “That’s Tori, over there. The one with the horrible pigtails. If you’d like to go invite her and feel your brain cells actually die as she attempts conversation. She’s loyal, though.”
Sabrina snorted. How did none of her friends find him as hilarious as she did? It really was a travesty. None of them would worry about a bunch of demons being smited. If it was mortals, they’d be outraged. Other creatures that were seen as ‘good’, also outrage. But demons who tortured souls? Good riddance to them. Morals were funny like that.
Sabrina smoothed her hands down his shirt as she glanced over at the demon. She’d do. It wasn’t like she needed to converse with them on a daily basis anyway. That’s what middle management was for. Tori looked like she’d do well passing Sabrina’s card around to snag a few others. Between those and the box she’d given Meredith she’d curated enough buzz to get the demons interested. It wasn’t like she needed to collect them all in one day.
“After I’m done with her do you want to ditch work and go get lunch?” she asked, focusing back on Callum. “I can snag a table at the new Thai place.” It was supposedly even better than their usual one and getting reservations was a headache and a half. Good thing the owner owed her a favor or three.
“Mmm, yes. This was a lot of proactive and helpful action today for me,” Callum mused out loud. “I could use some Mekhong.”
Honestly, this was probably the most work he’d ever actually done inside Demonikea. Normally he did more posing, lolling about, even outright napping aesthetically. But he had actually assisted a customer with her query and been successful at it. Maybe he really did deserve to have a dozen photos of himself up on the wall as Employee of the Month.
“God, this was exhausting. This place is - not to put too fine a point on it - absolutely putrid,” he concluded, and dramatically took a seat on the edge of a checkout machine. “Go poach her, sure. I’ll be right here.”
It was probably a good thing that Callum didn’t bother assisting customers most days considering the whole soul harvesting part or whatever it was in the fine print. Not that she’d ever signed any receipts when she had purchased items back in the summer and since then Callum got her what she wanted for free. But if he’d actually put effort into getting humans to buy things? Oh, that could be very bad. Or really good for Demonikea, depending on which way she squinted.
“You were amazing,” Sabrina murmured, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She pulled the sliver of cards out her clutch and then handed it to Callum. “I’ll be right back.”
One last minute of responsibility, followed by an afternoon of lazy decadence seemed the perfect way to finish off the day.