In a town where the buildings were made of bones and the occasional rock, Andrea sat atop a watchtower, peering at the desert surrounding the walls with the binoculars she stole from Abaddon. She pointed them at the scrawny demons near the horizon. They were constructing a road using the large stones that Abaddon had them dig up in the quarry. Her head turned a little to the side, towards the pack of sandsharks sneaking up on the workers. She licked her lips, thinking of the impending lunch. If the workers killed the sharks, she’d have shark. If the workers died…, well, sharks left the bone marrows of their prey behind.

“Andrea!” a voice shouted from down below. The demon girl flinched and nearly fell off the watchtower. Her brow furrowed as she peered over the edge. A demon that looked like a meatball holding a cleaver met her eyes. “The shaman wants to see you,” he said and waved the rusted knife. “He says it’s very important.”

Andrea pouted as she placed the binoculars back in front of her face, ignoring the demon. The only important matters Abaddon ever talked to her about was begging her not to eat so much. She licked her lips as the scrawny demons fended off the sharks. Lunch was going to be good today. “Andrea!”

“What?” she shouted back as her claws extended and pierced the floor of the tower. Everyone else knew how sensitive her ears were, but the meatball always insisted on shouting at her. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t sound like a stuck pig.

“The shaman wants to see you,” the meatball said again. “He says it’s very important.”

“Okay,” Andrea said, withdrawing her claws. “You can go now.”

The meatball shook his head. “He wants me to bring you to him,” he said. “Come down, it’s very important.”

“If it’s so important, then why doesn’t he come here himself?”

“Andrea, please,” the meatball said, his round shoulders drooping. “I’m just the messenger.” The meatball cursed in his mind. Who was the one that spoiled her? He would teach her a lesson, but the shaman had made it clear: Anyone who injured her would die a gruesome and humiliating death. Everyone had been forced to watch a chef eat her own intestines because she forgot to bring a meal to the child. Then the shaman used his magic to heal her and had her do it all over again before finally feeding her to Andrea.

“Well,” Andrea said and puffed out her cheeks. “You can be the messenger who tells Abaddon I don’t want to see him right now. I’m very busy!”

“But you’re not doing anything…,” the meatball muttered. His eyes shone as he raised his head. “How about this? I’ll bring you a snack later tonight!”

“I can get snacks anytime I want,” Andrea said and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t always this petulant, but ever since Palan left, Abaddon had kept her locked up. He didn’t mistreat her or starve her, but he didn’t let her do anything either in case she got injured. “Bring me out of the town and I’ll follow you.”

“You know I can’t do that,” the meatball said. A bead of sweat rolled down his plump back. Taking her out of the city walls was asking for a punishment even worse than the one for injuring her. “Please, I’m begging you. What do you want me to do?”

“Take me over the wall!”

The meatball’s expression darkened. “I already said I couldn’t do that,” he said. “If you don’t come with me, Abaddon is going to punish me. Haven’t I always been nice to you? You don’t want to see that happen to me, do you?”

Andrea’s brow furrowed as she scratched her chin. She sighed. Just when the meatball thought she was going to agree, Andrea asked, “Can I? It’ll be a bit loud, but Abaddon’s creative enough to make up for it.”

The meatball dropped the cleaver onto the ground and clutched his bald head while staring at the ground. “If you want to kill her, then you can,” a voice said. The meatball turned around while raising his head. Abaddon was standing behind him with his hands clasped behind his back. “She’s been a real nuisance, hasn’t she?” The angel’s eyes narrowed at Andrea.

“Shaman,” the meatball said, his eyes wide. “Do you really mean it? I can kill her?”

Abaddon nodded and smiled at Andrea. “Palan’s dead,” he said. “The contract’s over. You know what that means, right?”

Andrea’s face paled as her eyes widened to the size of saucers. She rubbed her ears with her hands. “What?” she asked and bit her lower lip.

“Palan’s dead,” Abaddon said and laughed. “Finally! Months of nonstop blathering, whining, stomach growling, and questioning ends now! You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

The meatball picked up his cleaver, a smile on his face. “I can really kill her without being punished?” he asked again, making sure. “This isn’t a test?”

“Make sure she screams,” Abaddon said, his body shaking with joy. He raised his head and spread his arms. “Everyone, gather round! You don’t want to miss what’s coming next! This—”

Bonk!

The binoculars exploded as they crashed against Abaddon’s face. Andrea’s claws were out, her teeth bared. Her red eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight. The meatball laughed at Abaddon’s expression, but quickly covered his mouth with his hands, stifling his giggles. Abaddon put his hand on his own head and narrowed his eyes when he touched blood. “Get down here,” he roared and pointed at Andrea. A black light enveloped her body, causing her to plummet through the watchtower’s floor and onto the ground. He snatched the cleaver out of the meatball’s hand. “I’ll teach you how to respect your elders.”

Andrea whimpered as she struggled to her feet. Abaddon glared at her, causing her eyes to dim. Did Palan really die? Abaddon wouldn’t hurt her otherwise. Tears sprang to her eyes as she bit her lower lip, drawing blood with her sharp teeth. The meatball’s body heaved up and down while panting. Like a dog waiting for a bone, he couldn’t wait to see her suffer. By now, a small crowd of demons had gathered around the collapsed watchtower.

“Don’t you feel big, picking on a child,” Andrea said. She tried to stick out her chest and sound brave like Palan, but her trembling knees betrayed her. “I bet Palan could kick your ass if he were here.” Abaddon acted like he hadn’t heard her words, continuing towards her while twirling the knife. “Y-you’re nothing! You’re weak! You’re a coward! You-you big doodoo head!”

“Call me what you want,” Abaddon said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this was a long time coming. I should never have agreed to a contract. I thought it would be amusing, but you’ve been nothing but a nuisance. This”—a red light flashed in front of Abaddon, taking on the shape of a piece of paper—“is…”

The angel’s brow furrowed as he grabbed the paper and read it. It was the contract he made with Palan. “What the fuck!?” he shouted and raised his head to the sky. He waved the cleaver at the clouds. “What’s the meaning of this!?”

“S-shaman,” the meatball said. “Is something wrong?”

“Die!” Abaddon shouted and threw the knife at the meatball. It glowed with a black light and pierced through the demon’s heart like he was made of paper. “If only you didn’t take so long to bring her back! This is your fault!”

Andrea’s forehead wrinkled as Abaddon healed the meatball and proceeded to thrash him, flaying the demon’s purple skin off with his strikes. She grabbed her limp arm with her good one and licked the blood on her lips. It seemed like she had been let off for now? Then Palan wasn’t dead? “Um.” Andrea made a small sound.

Abaddon’s fist halted. He released the bloody meatball and cleared his throat. “Everyone disperse!” he shouted. “Don’t you have better things to do!?”

The surrounding demons lowered their heads and scurried away like ants. Abaddon glared at Andrea and frowned at her limp arm. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he said and snorted before turning around. He wasn’t responsible for her well-being when it came to nonlife-threatening injuries she obtained outside of the contract period. It would be good for her to suffer.

Andrea’s expression darkened as Abaddon marched away. She turned her gaze towards the meatball and stalked towards the blubbering demon. Her mouth opened wide as she chomped down on the demon’s neck, tearing off a chunk of flesh, the resulting spray covering her face with blood. She had learned her lesson alright: no one here was her friend and Abaddon could kill her at any time. If Palan could become a renowned hunter, why couldn’t she? She’d seen him hunt before. He used to carry her on his back when she was still a baby who couldn’t walk. And if she ever encountered any trouble, she could return here because Abaddon wouldn’t let her die. The more she thought about it, the bigger the idea grew in her head.