“Sir, the signals have been set.” The young demon looked up at his executive officer. “We expect fantastics to start trickling into Middlin tomorrow afternoon sometime.”

  Grimble watched Hell’s Premier Layline Executive sit back in satisfaction in his great leather chair behind his large oak desk. Grimble didn’t know the Layline Executive’s name. As far as he and the other grunts were concerned he was “Sir” and that’s all he was. He supposed the name was somewhat affectionately given. Sir didn’t hang his grunts by their toes along the halls of his office building like other executives did, or leave them for hours on the spit in the furnace. Sir didn’t let grunts live long enough to make it to the walls or the furnace.

  The general agreement was Sir’s mercy in ending things quickly, if not creatively, gave him a leg up among the other leaders in Hell’s offices. Sir was calm, quick and rarely lost his temper. Consequences were swift, brutal, and often fatal. Grimble respected that about the demon, and after his tenth turn on Laris’ pit, had put in for a transfer. It was a change he had not regretted, and as he eyed the pleased expression on Sir’s face, he was convinced again of the brilliance of his plan.

  “Very good, Grimble.” Sir said with a smile. “This layline may seem small, but it is crucial to our lord’s plans in our war with the fey. It will look very nice on your quarterly review.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Grimble said, trying to keep his excitement from showing. His mind spun with the possibilities. This could put him above Balgor. Balgor! He wanted to spit. The mangy brute. Always slithering his way into things he had no business being in. Snatching up the best jobs and stomping on whoever was in the way. Grimble could almost taste the satisfaction of what he would do to Balgor once he got that promotion. The imagined screams sang sweetly in his ears, so much so that he realized he hadn’t heard what Sir had just said.

  He blinked quickly and bowed, his heart suddenly beating a titch faster in his chest realizing Sir had asked a question and he’d missed it.

  Biting back the rise in panic he added a little extra grovel to his tone. “I apologize, Sir. What was it that you asked?”

  There was a brief moment where Grimble waited to be struck by lightening or dropped in a fire viper’s pit, but Sir must have indeed been feeling generous.

  “I said did you make sure there were no fantastics already in Middlin? Especially those of a more…pure persuasion?” The word almost sounded like it caused the demon some discomfort to say, and Grimble himself shivered.

  “I double and triple checked, Sir. There is no one with the slightest affinity to magic within 30 miles of the place. Within one hundred miles there’s only one small place. A church that’s long been deserted. The humans don’t know it, and it’s nowhere near the layline. We’ve overtaken cathedrals with more aura.”

  “That’s perfect then. I expect the layline to be pitching black within the month Grimble.”

  “You have my assurances, Sir.”

  “Good, you may go.”

  A wave of relief went over him, and Grimble bowed and turned to leave.

  “Grimble?”

  Sir’s voice cut through him, sweet as honey and cold as ice.

  He turned his head slightly back to the great demon. “Yes, Sir?”

  “Pay better attention next time. Or you will find yours rather permanently fixed. Do you understand?”

  Grimble did not, but he wasn’t going to ask for any clarification. “Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.”

  “Pitch that layline, Grimble. Balgor was practically salivating when he heard the option was open. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.”

  Grimble bowed again, and sensing he’d truly been dismissed he stepped through the great wooden doors and into the empty hall.

  He didn’t let his shoulders relax until the great wooden doors closed noiselessly behind him, and even then he waited until he was down the long black hall and around the corner before letting out a long sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping.

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  That had been close. He started down the hall, keeping his strides purposeful, his pace commanding, even as his mind raced in a small panic at how nearly he’d ended up a puddle on Sir’s floor. He nodded pleasantly at the crone manning the desk, and kicked an imp that had been dimwitted enough to stack its arms so high with papers that it couldn’t see him approaching and so had got in his way.

  Its screech of dismay as the papers flew through the air made Grimble’s heart sing. He watched with pleasure as the creature scrabbled madly at the papers floating in the air, its desperate cries filling mingling with the sound of fluttering paper. Then the imp burst into flame. Eyes widening Grimble watched the helpless creature fling itself to the ground, howling in dismay as it tried to put itself out, and effectively set the pages it had been carrying on fire as well.

  With a sigh, the witch stood and shuffled around the desk, an ancient fire extinguisher in hand. The imp continued to screech, and with a rather irritated gesture, the crone smacked it alongside the head with the extinguisher. Grimble winced in sympathy, and started again on his way as the crone, satisfied that the sound was gone, calmly set about dousing the fire.

  “Rude of you, making more work for Mavice.”

  Balgor, the last person Grimble wanted to see. The good mood he’d been in after the imp immediately deflated and he turned to raise an eyebrow at the slim demon. The fact he had to also raise his head, made Grimble even more irritated.

  Like all lesser demons Balgor looked more creature than human. Long sharp teeth seemed to spill out of his face when he smiled, and his pupilless red eyes glittered. Balgor was a splicer, a cousin to the fantastic the humans called slenderman, and his long thin length kept him towering above most of the other demons in the hells. His very presence could make even the bravest mortal scream, a feeling Grimble could relate to. He hated Balgor.

  He wanted to snap Balgor’s spindly legs and when he smiled easily at the demon he hoped Balgor knew it.

  “Slinking around as usual I see. Sir decide he was going to let you off your leash after the last—” he paused then added with false delicacy, “incident?”

  The red in Balgor’s eyes flared deeper for a moment, and it was all Grimble could do to keep the expression on his face pleasantly polite.

  “We both know that the failed line was your doing, Grimble.” The tall demon hissed.

  A pity he doesn’t, Grimble thought to himself, but aware of Mavice just down the hall he simply shrugged. “Either get better at your job, or get better at lying. But between you and me, neither are good odds.”

  “I’ll have you know Sir has decided to put me in charge of outreach to the vampire covens in Harmony.”

  “Harmony?” Grimble’s voice cracked and he cursed. Trying to clear his throat nonchalantly he tried to appear disinterested. “That’s a decent sized coven I suppose.”

  “Decent?” Balgor said with cheerful malice, “While it may be small, some of the most powerful vampires alive are its members. Sir wants some of the laylines to get a little extra push, and the vampires have a common interest.”

  “That’s very interesting.” Grimble said, trying and failing to appear disinterested. “Well that’s all very nice I suppose, now if you’ll excuse me I—”

  “Heard you got a layline job.”

  Grimble narrowed his eyes, leveling a glare up at the tall demon and hating every inch of it. “Middlin is mine, slinky.”

  “Ho, ho! So defensive. Don’t worry, shorty, Sir wants me to focus on the problem lines. Ones that aren’t pitching so well.” He leaned down, grinning into Grimble’s face, his teeth looking especially sharp and pointed. “And your lines always do well, don’t they Grimble?”

  “Someday I’ll have your hide on a spit in my office.” Grimble hissed. “And you’ll turn and turn until the end of time, and believe me I’ll relish in every second of it.”

  Balgor paused then burst into a harsh barking laugh that sent waves of fetid air into Grimble’s face.

  “So defensive.” He repeated, then with a final toothy smile he was suddenly back to standing at full height and pivoting on his heel turned down the hall away from Grimble, his tuneless whistles mixing with the whimpers of the imp behind him. But Grimble barely heard them.

  Balgor had just swiped away the triumph of just a few minutes before. Too close, he was too close. Taking a deep breath Grimble shook himself a little, and rolled his shoulders. No, this would be fine. Sir had given him the Middlin layline, not Balgor. Had told him he’d be on track for promotion, not Balgor. Not to mention, just because Balgor would be negotiating with the Harmony coven didn’t make Balgor the one who got to determine quality control for the laylines. He wished he’d thought of that in the moment, but it still managed to somewhat still the disquiet in his heart, and he pushed himself forward towards the hell hub and to his office.

  By the time he’d reached his desk he’d convinced himself that there was nothing to be worried about and Balgor was just throwing his weight around.

  That was before he saw the email in his inbox. After he saw the email, he sat calmly in his chair for all of two seconds before throwing the laptop at the head of the nearest imp unfortunate enough to pass by his doorway. He then made a few phone calls, spawned a new laptop and wrote a few emails. But in the end it was to no avail.

  Vampires would be going to Middlin, and there was nothing he could do about it.