The cottage smelled like dust and mildew, the kind of smell that settles into a place when nobody's lived there in years. I walked through slowly, Tengen padding alongside me like a furry inspector checking my work, occasionally causing me to check my step so as not to trip over her. No matter what she said, I got the feeling that she was happy to see me, too.

  Two rooms upstairs—one large enough for an actual bed, one really just an oversized closet. Main room with a stone fireplace that looked solid, a kitchen area with a hand pump over a basin, and stairs down to what had to be a root cellar. I poked my head into a side room and found what looked like a workspace—a table, shelves, and tools still hanging on pegs. I started to enter to see what the previous occupant had been up to.

  Workshop's off-limits until you prove you won't burn the place down, Muppet Hands.

  I turned to look at her. She sat in the doorway, tail wrapped around her paws, yellow eyes fixed on me with that expression cats get when they're judging your entire existence. Discretion being the better part of valor, I chose not to press the issue.

  The furniture was old but serviceable. A table, some chairs that looked like they wouldn't collapse beneath me, and a bed frame in the master bedroom that looked hand-carved. Everything had a thick layer of dust, but beneath the wood gleamed as if it had been oiled yesterday.

  "How's this place still standing, cat? Everything's preserved."

  House Cat. This is MY house. Has been since I claimed it last time I came through here. House Cats have dominion over their territory. The structure obeys me, just like you should.

  "So you're like... what, a landlord?"

  I'm the OWNER. Old Piffle Pants may think that he owned it and had the right to gift it to you, but it was abandoned, and I claimed it, so it's mine. Let's see the legions of hell try to take it from me. You, I'll permit to live here as long as you feed me, keep the place clean, and don't annoy me. Those are the rules. As for your inevitable underlings, on a case-by-case basis. I think you should get the barn fixed pretty quick."

  I knelt to her level. "And Mum had to stay outside because...?"

  Contract devils smell like burnt promises. The only good thing is that they're more honest than lawyers. Also, I don't like him. He stinks of cigars.

  "He seems to have an immense amount of respect for you."

  Tengen's tail flicked once, sharp as a whip crack. "Of course he does. He's a contract devil. He knows how rules work, and he knows for damn sure what will happen to him on multiple levels if he crosses me."

  I couldn't help but smile at the ferocity of her response. There is a reason that cats are the kings of the jungle. "Can I cross you?" I couldn't help but smile, thinking that I was negotiating with a cat.

  You CAN. I wouldn't recommend it. I'll make you regret it in ways you can't imagine. We cats have a reputation that is earned, and someone in your shoes should understand what that means. I once made a wizard weep for a week by knocking his components off shelves one vial at a time. While. He. Watched. Thought he could change my food without permission, that one. Fool.

  Yeah, that sounds like a cat, alright. Fair enough. I stood and shrugged my armor off to soothe the itching in the center of my chest.

  Whoa! You really did go to hell, didn't you? Will you look at the size of that thing? The big man himself branded you, did he? I'm impressed. I knew you were a piece of shit human, but I didn't think you were that bad. I guess tuna clouds judgment.

  "You did it! You said grix. I mean grix. Light brakking damn it! Why can you brakking swear but I can't?"

  She stood and turned with a flick of her tail. Because I am a superior being and not a hopped-up doughy flesh monkey like you.

  I sighed again, realizing that I'd done a lot of sighing today. That boded well for the walls. Sighing doesn't leave holes in walls like punching them does. Of course these were wood and not sheetrock, so it boded well for my fist as well. "Why are you here, Tengen? Why not stay with Mrs. Ramirez?"

  The cat's mental voice went quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, something in it made my chest tight.

  "She died, Dummy, remember? You were there.

  She was a witch, you know. Sold her soul to Santa Muerte. Repented, found Jesus, was forgiven, and all that. Risked eternal damnation and used her magic after swearing it off to put in a good word for you. She was good to me—never asked me to do witch things. She asked me to follow you and watch over the 'promising lad', so I did. Maybe I like you a little bit, but don't get a fat head or anything.

  I remembered Mrs. Ramirez's hand in mine, the way she'd smiled even as I died.

  Now stop asking stupid questions and clean this place. It's filthy. People will be able to find my hiding places by tracing my footprints in the dust.

  I grabbed a rag from the kitchen counter and started wiping down surfaces. Outside, through the warped glass window, I could see Mum's cigar smoke emanating occasionally from holes in the barn. I don't know what Tengen said to him, but despite his pride, he was actually hunting for her, or pretending to at least.

  Telepathic cat landlord. Contract devil in the barn. A dead paladin's gear in my pack. An elf-girl sneaking about the village for me. All that and I'd only been alive for a couple of hours.

  Mrs. Ramirez had made me swear to be good in this life.

  Come Hell or high water, I was damned sure going to try.

  * * *

  There was a knock on the door, and I muttered a prayer of thanks. My cleaning strategy in my old house consisted of making as little of a mess as possible and bringing in one of the gang's hookers when I needed something unpleasant cleaned. I was not a good person. I am not a good cleaner. I hoped it was Elanthe coming back from her recon, so I could foist this off on her and get down to the real work I needed to do.

  I opened the front door with a broad smile that died as it tried to reach my eyes. Instead of a sexy elf-girl—don't think of her like that, Bozo—I was greeted by the ugliest midget I'd ever seen. I frowned as I looked at him and realized that he was no midget. Well, he was, but he wasn't.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He stood maybe three feet tall, with skin the color of old charcoal. His horns curved back from his temples like a ram's, polished to a dull sheen. Yellow eyes, narrowed and calculating, stared up at me from a sharp-featured face that looked like someone had carved an accountant out of volcanic rock. Pointed ears jutted from the sides of his head, and his fingers—long, delicate things tipped with tiny claws—clutched a leather satchel to his chest.

  But the real kicker? The bastard wore a three-piece suit. Dark grey with subtle pinstripes, complete with a pocket watch chain gleaming against his vest. His shoes were polished to the same level of shine I got on my ‘cycle’s gas tank after I waxed it. He looked like a middle manager from Hell's HR department had shown up for a performance review.

  "Captain," he said, his voice clipped and formal. He pulled a ledger from his satchel with those precise fingers. "I am Pemberton, assigned as your administrative officer. I require your signature on seventeen requisition forms, three liability waivers, and one receipt of transfer for demonic personnel."

  I stared at him, mouth open.

  "May I enter?" He adjusted his spectacles—actual spectacles—and waited.

  "Uh, yes?"

  "Thank you." He was about to step across the threshold and froze. "You have a House Cat." He carefully put his foot back down on the porch. "If you would be so kind, Captain, would you mind letting it know that I am here? I will happily wait outside until—oh!"

  Tengen raced around the corner and launched herself at a full sprint at the demon, who dropped his satchel, which exploded and sent papers everywhere. He deftly caught her as she rubbed her face against his chin and purred contentedly.

  "Yes, yes, My Lady. It is good to see you again, too. But is this behavior strictly proper? I mean, there is another about?"

  Tengen stopped her rubbing, looked at the imp, rubbed more time against his chin, and jumped out of his arms before strutting off back to wherever she had been, tail high in the air.

  "What was that about, cat?"

  None of your business. Pemberton has the run of the house.

  I looked back at the diminutive demon. "Care to explain?"

  "One does not disclose the secrets of a lady, Captain. Come now, the lady of the house has directed me to my office."

  "Your office?" He walked past me like he owned the place. "Hey, wait a second. I closed the door and followed him down the hall, just catching sight of him as he turned into the workroom. I'd never beaten up a midget before, but there was a first time for everything. He stood in the doorway with fists on his hips as he inspected the space.

  "Ah, yes. This will do nicely. The last time I had an office this large, I had six officemates. You, Captain, really are the Demon King's, may the Light curse him forever, favorite child. And a window to boot!"

  I hadn't even noticed it the first time I came through; it was so small and obscured by collected junk.

  "What luxury. Get yourself a chair, Captain. We have some work to do. If we don't fill these requisitions quickly, the administration may close them. You wouldn't want to lose out on filling the positions, would you?"

  My head was spinning. I ambled into the kitchen and grabbed one of the two chairs, then brought it back to the 'office'. It slipped out of my grasp when I got there.

  The room was spotless. Not a spec of dust anywhere. No clutter. Nothing. Just a partner's desk, which appeared to be brand new, some shelving, which appeared to be brand new, and some filing cabinets, which appeared to be brand new. I absentmindedly went to one of the filing cabinets and pulled it open, only to find it empty.

  "Trust me, captain, it'll be full soon enough. Now pull your chair up. It's too far away where you dropped it."

  I recovered the chair and pulled it up to the junior partner's side of the desk. I felt like I was in the principal's office waiting for a scolding.

  "Now then, I've already reviewed the paperwork, and it is correct. Oh, has your contract devil shown up yet?"

  "Yeah. Mum. He's in the barn trying to catch a mouse for Tengen."

  Pemberton didn't move for a full thirty seconds before he finally laughed. "Oh, that lady, she is wonderful, isn't she? This Mum, that is Nebuchadnezzar Aristophanes Aloisius Hieronymus Chrysanthemum, is it not?"

  "Yeah, but no way I'm remembering all that."

  "I don't blame you. Here," he opened a drawer and pulled out a parchment. "Sign this."

  "What is it?"

  "It says that so long as Nebuchadnezzar Aristophanes Aloisius Hieronymus Chrysanthemum is a part of your team, you and everyone else on the team can call him—what was it again?" He scanned the page. "Mum."

  His smile was hideous but genuine. "Heh heh heh. Hmmm, yes. Here it is. Sign."

  "He's going to hate me for this, isn't he?"

  "Oh yes, he will. It's a privilege of power in hell to make things unpleasant for your underlings—it's just the natural order of things. He'll take it as a token of respect that you try to make him miserable."

  "Wait, so if I make demons miserable, that's a good thing in Hell?"

  "Yes."

  "But if I make demons miserable, that's also a good thing for the forces of good, right?"

  "Well, I can't speak for the opposition, but I imagine so."

  "So if I make demons miserable, I win with everybody? Where do I sign?"

  Pemberton smiled as he slid the parchment over. "You're a natural at this, Captain." He smiled less as Chuck wrestled with the quill and finally managed to write his name in the indicated spot. It looked like a four-year-old had done it.

  "Now for your squad. You are entitled to—oh! Too slow for that one, they closed it. No undead warboss for you. Let's see. Ah yes. You are entitled to an infiltration specialist, a tracking specialist, a psychological warfare specialist, and a security specialist. Sign here, here, here, and here. Oh, and here."

  "What's this last one?"

  "It says that payroll is handled directly by the boss's people. We get the money and give it out without worrying about all the withholding and taxes and such."

  Chuck snatched the last paper out of Pemberton's hands and had a decent signature scrawled upon it in seconds. "No IRS. I'll deal with your people but not with them."

  "I cannot tell you what a relief it is to be working for someone who appreciates the value of proper paperwork, Captain." He collected the papers and scanned them before dropping them through a slot in the desk. "It is a real relief."

  "Pemberton, I have a question."

  "Oh, wonderful. A captain who wants to understand how the bureaucracy works as well! This is a lucky posting for me indeed."

  "How did you get this office set up so quickly?"

  "I am glad you asked. You see in the demonic code of office conduct— "

  Chuck held up his hand. "Pemberton, I need you to understand something. You will be in charge of everything we do involving the bureaucracy. You handle all the forms, all the filings, all the everything, including knowing every single line of the demonic code on every topic that exists. You just come to me when you need a signature, and I will trust that you will not lead me astray. Yes?"

  "Captain!" He was beaming and bowed as best he could from his chair. "Your loyal servant!"

  "Excellent. Now, when I ask you a question, you try to answer it in one sentence or less. One word is even better. I can't know everything and do everything, which is why I have specialists assigned to me, yes? Now, let's revisit my previous question. How did you do it?"

  Pemberton sat quietly for a moment as he filtered through the immense volumes of information he knew by heart. He gave a slight nod before he spoke. "I requisitioned a cleaning crew, followed by a construction crew, followed by movers who delivered the furniture you requisitioned with a—"

  I stopped him with a look.

  "The furniture that I requisitioned? You did that in the space of the twenty seconds it took me to go get a chair?"

  Again, a pause. "Yes?'

  "Excellent. How do we make that happen for the rest of the house?"

  "I'm afraid we can't."

  "Why not?"

  This time, he paused for a full minute before answering.

  "Union rules."

  "Union rules?"

  "Yes, union rules. Even in Hell, we don't try to circumvent the unions."