I never thought my own name would sound strange to me, but it did. My heart fluttered as he openly declared my deepest secret.

It faded as my rational mind caught up with my nervous system. He had said it in a passable High Demonic, though he slurred the rolled r’s a bit too much. “You are a demonkin, then. I suspected.”

“Bloody oath I am!” he said. “It feels great being able to cut loose a little with my own kind. It’s hard work pretending to be a good little drone all the time.”

“Dante, you took the words out of my every waking thought,” I said. “Now, what’s this meeting about? You were awfully vague in your letter before.”

“That’s above my paygrade,” Dante said. “All I know is, some powerful devils moved Hell and Earth to get me here in time for this. You must be a big deal.”

I preened a bit. Wouldn’t you, after months of having your ego crushed daily? “Oh, just a bit of one. My father’s a power broker back home.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “England?”

“Try Pandemonium,” I said, nonchalantly straightening my tie. I had been told to be presentable, after all. “Or did you not realize you were in the presence of a devil?”

Dante’s jaw dropped. “Christ on a cracker. I thought Malthus was just yer daemonym.”

“Demo… demon name?”

“Yeah, y’know, what we call each other. Makes a good cover name in a pinch.” Dante leaned in, the sake on his breath assaulting my nose. “You don’t look it, but yer demonic is flawless.”

“And I didn’t think you looked like a Dante,” I said, scooting back. “It’s called a disguise.”

“Well, it’s an honor, mate. Can I…” He held out his hand and gestured towards my head. “Your horns? I’ve never been close to one of your breed before. I want to see what I’m fighting for.”

My hand flew up to where my nubby horns had been, before Fera had run Fleshcraft over them. “They’re in hiding,” I said. “Courtesy of Harriet’s employer. Did she not tell you?”

“Oh, that? I am Harriet,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Those letters were from you?”

“Yes, dearie,” he said in a falsetto.

“You have very feminine handwriting,” I said.

“All the better to trick you with, my dear,” he said before laughing too hard at his own bon mot. “You and your girlfriend look so skinny! You should eat more. And you never write!”

And just like that, he stumbled over the line between sober and soused. He was right, the sake did have a kick. “I would love to sit about surprising each other, but let’s get to business, shall we?” While you’re still able to speak intelligently, I added to myself. “I can’t possibly just be here to visit with you. Where are the others?”

“Right here, mate.” Dante pulled a wood disk the size of a hubcap from a backpack at his side, and I immediately recognized it as a demonic fabricata. In fact, judging by the shape… no, it couldn’t be. “What’s this? They don’t make communication fabricata this small!”

“They do now,” Dante said. “Grab the handle and give it a charge, will you? The bosses are probably waiting.”

I took a rune-encrusted piece of wood in my hand and focused my energy into it. Being a signaldevil was another task that seemed beneath me, but one does what one must. I read the familiar demonic rune running along the handle, and realized that the disc contained a battery similar to the ones the humans used for their fabricata. Good; that meant I could stop charging the device once it was full.

The short half-dome had an octagonal depression across the top, and carved runes in the dish came to life as my magic ran through them. A crystal pointed at me glowed a bright green. It was all familiar, but I realized how they had miniaturized the normally phonebooth-sized magical structures. When I had seen them run before, there had been a secondary spell cast to direct the message to the desired destination via Magical Resonance. A messaging fabricata with a single destination would need far less material. I was proud to see to see that the humans weren’t the only ones who could innovate. It was no cell phone, but this was a step in the right direction.

Minute crystals at the points of the octagon came to life, rotating to-and-fro as they shot beams into a central point, which focused into an angular image of a man and woman from the waist up as large as life. The lines recreated them well enough, but it was abstract and without texture. I recognized the effect as two shapes came into focus, since Haru had used a similar fabricata during the ill-fated attack on Mr. Maki.

I stopped admiring the handiwork of the Grim Horde’s engineers, and the images flickered for a moment. I refocused my magic again and regained my bearings, making sure to force an extra charge into the battery. I hadn’t expected to see Grand General Girdan the Fair and Fera in Japan, even in that strange, vectorized form.

If the fabricata couldn’t render them true to life, at least Girdan’s bass voice came in loud and clear. “It’s about time! Have you forgotten how to be punctual, Malthus?” His long, blonde tresses, the source of his sobriquet, danced as he loomed over the matching communication fabricata back in Pandemonium. The green outlines had no color, but I could imagine his red skin growing redder as he flushed with indignation.

I hesitated, and out of more than surprise. Even in this form, the monstrously large devil’s scowl turned my guts. Phantom aches emanated from my old scars as memories of my floggings at his hand danced before my eyes. The old fool had a particular way of enforcing timeliness.

I forced those thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time to be a shrinking flower. Devils pounce on weakness. “Grand General! It’s been a kobold’s age. How’s your second wife been? Has she still been doing her part to keep the orcs entertained?”

Girdan’s eyes narrowed, before his lips curled into a feral grin. “You see, Fera? And you thought that he had learned his lesson about minding his manners.”

“I don’t see how you could possibly take offense at that,” I replied. “We all have our duty to the glory of the Horde and the Dark Lord, may he reign until the sun burns out. Hers is simply a different path.”

“You two can stop measuring each other’s dicks.” I had almost forgotten she was there. Fera wasn’t a short devilmaid, but she looked positively tiny next to Girdan. Still, her harsh words made the doting father flinch. Her tone turned syrupy sweet as she patted Girdan’s shoulder. “Daddy, did you have something to say to Malthus?”

It was almost comical watching the musclebound man squirm. “You did a g-g-adequate job passing along that intelligence. The Dark Lord was in a ‘fine’ mood when he found out about the failed attack on Sumatra.”

“I imagine the messenger was sent back to Our Father Below?”

“The messenger and his immediate family,” replied Fera.

“It’s why I never tell the Dark Lord anything directly,” said Girdan with a wince.

“Yes, you left that up to us aides,” I said. Thankfully I had always brought good news.

Fera coughed delicately. Her husky voice brought me up short. By Our Father Below, she always had that effect on me. Even in the angular outlines of the fabricata, my childhood crush’s beauty shone through. “All talk of Grand General Beez replacing Malthus the Elder as Grand Vizier has been shelved. Beez will be lucky to survive the month.”

“Splendid.” I had been worried for Father, not that it was healthy to express such emotions out loud. “That should keep the Eastern Horde in its place.”

“Damn straight,” said Girdan. “Those useless lay-abouts had the easy pickings in the early invasion, back before the humans got wise to us. Like Hell we were going to let one of them worm their way into the court. They haven’t earned it.”

“And keeping Father’s head and neck attached is a fine side benefit,” I said.

“Indeed, indeed,” said Girdan.

Fera stepped towards the crystal that functioned as the booth’s camera, blocking her father from site. “Hm, the image is a bit fuzzy. I think the receiver is out of alignment.” She had chosen a low-cut gown just on the right side of scandalous, and she bent over for just a moment as she pretended to adjust the crystal, her charms filling the projection for just long enough. I swallowed involuntarily; she could give Mariko a run for her money in that department, thanks to cosmetic magic.

She straightened back up and nodded. “That’s much better. We wouldn’t want to miss any fine details.” She winked at me from an angle where Girdan couldn’t see.

And such fine details they were, though I raised my guard. Fera had always been cold to me, even when we made love on my last night in Pandemonium. She was up to something and wanted me addled first. I wouldn’t have noticed before, but I think dealing with Maggie had inoculated me against that trick.

“I must say, it’s been lovely seeing you both again,” I said, almost meaning it. “However, we should wrap things up. We’re in a public place; my silencing spell won’t do us any good if somebody sees you.”

“I paid off Carl. Nobody’s coming in here ‘til I say otherwise,” said Dante. I had almost forgotten he was there. He would not have been in view of the two devils, since he was on the opposite side from the camera. “‘Sides, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t insisted on bringing your girl along.”

“What?” Was that jealousy in Fera’s voice? “What girl?”

It was a damn good thing the fabricata was good and charged, because I reflexively let go of the handle. “One of the wizards at the school,” I said, as casually as I could manage. “She’s a good lay and has some talents that come in handy. That’s all.” Never, never, ever imply to a devil that you care about something. I learned that at a young age after my pet cat had turned up in multiple pieces.

“She doesn’t know what you are, does she?” Girdan leaned in, blocking out Fera. “Is she a demonkin, like Fera’s man Dante?”

“Of course not,” I said. “She’s a completely ordinary, devil-hating human wizard. She’s just completely besotted with me, the poor fool.”

“I want to see her,” said Fera, her arms crossed under her chest. “Let’s see what you amused yourself with while you were away.”

That was jealousy. Not that she hadn’t been whoring her way around Pandemonium in my absence, but devils are not known for moral consistency. “She’s asleep at the moment,” I said. “Dante saw to that, so she wouldn’t have any awkward stories to tell.”

“She’s got nothin’ on you, mistress,” said Dante. “Just a little stick of a thing.”

Fera straightened back up, visibly preening. “Malthus has a point; we are in danger of being discovered. Let’s cut to the chase. Daddy, tell Malthus what you told me.”

It was always strange seeing the Grand General, the devil who had crushed rebellious goblins in Spain and successfully invaded England and ground both nations into the dirt, being bossed around by a young girl. He shifted awkwardly. “Malthus, for services rendered, you are for... You are forg… no, that’s the Enemy’s delusion. I consider amends to have been made. You are coming home.”