I scowled. That was because I had no friends. Hell wasn’t a place to make connections. I barely tolerated my father and my sister. I wasn’t about to go out carousing with the greater demons. Their idea of a fun night was to get completely sloshed on Demonade and engage in an orgy with the eye sockets of their prisoners.

I shuddered just thinking about it.

Pushing these maudlin thoughts aside, I strode forwards. The doors remained closed. Would they open for me? Was there some form of security measure that would refuse me entry because I wasn’t an employee? Because I wasn’t … human?

Could a door be sentient and sense these things about the beings who walked through it? Could it tell I was a devil in human skin?

The doors swished open, and I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity. Doors did not possess consciousness. No, humans possessed technology. I glanced around, blinking in the bright glare of the white lights. People bustled about; uniformed humans pushed trolleys with blanket-clad forms on them.

“Where now, Boss?”

I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling a jolt when my fingers closed around the Soul Token. Her Soul Token.

I turned left and headed down the hallway. The Token cooled under my fingers. Not that way.

Spinning on my heel, I walked back in the other direction. It got warmer, but not hot enough to tell me I was truly close to her … and then it cooled again.

“For crying out loud,” I grumbled, about-facing once more.

“Are we lost, Boss?” Bub asked. “You want us to change back to Hounds and sniff her out?”

“We are most certainly not⁠—”

“Are you lost, sir?”

I glanced down to find a chubby, older woman in strange pyjamas similar to the ones that Jemma Bliss’s friend wore. Only these were a vibrant shade of purple, with rainbows all over them.

Humans had the oddest fashion sense.

“I … I’m not⁠—”

“Ask her for help!” Beezle whispered. “Make up some story that will get you to Jemma Bliss!”

The woman watched me, her expression turning from polite to concerned. Perhaps she thought I was in need of medical treatment.

“I … I’m looking for my … my girlfriend!” I blurted. “She …” I wracked my brain for the word Jemma Bliss had used. “She voluntaries here.”

I plastered what I hoped was a normal, human-looking smile on my face. Bub chittered mirthfully away on my collarbone. I’d squeeze the life out of him, too, for his insolence.

But not now.

No, now I needed to find my way to Jemma Bliss.

“Volunteers?” the lady asked, patting me on the arm. I stared down at her hand resting on my shirt sleeve.

“Yes, that is what I meant,” I replied, kicking myself for my lack of preparation. For my rush to use this opportunity to make misery for Jemma Bliss.

So she’ll mount those horns …