1
The Beginning of a Bad Joke
Asmodeus, Belial, Mephistopheles, and Raum walked into the smoky nightclub. Not smoky because people were smoking—apparently, that particular indulgence had been outlawed several decades ago—but because a bunch of machines were pumping it out like it was oxygen. To make itlooklike the smoke from cigarettes that had been outlawed.
Stupid. Humans could be so stupid it baffled the mind.
Asmodeus followed his brothers through the crowd toward the bar, ever aware of his surroundings despite the music pounding in his chest and piercing his ears.
That was part of the fun of Earth. Everything was always too much or not enough. A little too hot or too cold, too salty or too sweet, too loud or too quiet. There was always some lack, something that could be changed to make the moment more enjoyable. And it was never-ending—that was the beauty of it.
Belial clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to flatten a human. “Don’t think so hard, Ash. You might break something.”
Ash raised a brow. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“You never know,” Meph said over the din. “Humans are fragile. Pretty sure they could make themselves sick by thinking too much.”
The youngest of the four of them, Meph had covered every available inch of his skin with tattoos. His entire skull was covered under his short black hair, and the black-ink designs had leaked over onto part of his face. If that wasn’t enough, he’d filled that face full of holes—two rings on his bottom lip, one in the center of his nose, studs in one eyebrow, and a whole collection of shit in his ears. It had gotten to the point where his human form looked more demonic than a lot of demons.
“He’s not human, idiot,” Raum supplied, gold eyes glinting from beneath the hood of his oversized sweatshirt.
Meph punched him in the arm. “Shut it, fucknut.”
“You’re the fucknut, asshole.”
“You’re the asshole, fu—”
“Shut up,” Bel snapped at the argumentative pair. “We just got here. Can’t you wait at least an hour before you turn it into chaos? Look at all the women around you. Find something else to do.”
Meph and Raum did look and were quickly distracted. It was the point of this entire trip to the club, after all. For them it was, anyway. Ash’s days of boozing and carousing were long over. Now, he was the wallflower who lurked in the back with a scowl on his face.
Meph and Raum disappeared into the crowd on the hunt for carnal pleasures. It wouldn’t be difficult—part of their demonic nature was an allure that drew humans to them like moths to a flame. It made it easier to lure them into traps, and now that they weren’t bound by the rules, they were free to turn up that charm to the maximum.
Well, his brothers were free. Ash... not so much. Ash had no charm. Ash was the antithesis of charm. He tended to blend in—unfortunately, a little too well.
Belial ordered two shots of something and slid one across the bar to him. “So, we’re free. We actually did it.”
Bel tossed his shot back with a satisfied gasp. The blond-haired, blue-eyed giant was one of the most legendary demons of all time, one of the original angels to fall from Heaven at the start of creation, not that Bel remembered any of that anymore. Even in human form, he was seven feet tall, and his shoulders were at least twice the width of a normal man’s. It went without saying he attracted a lot of attention—the opposite of Ash.
“How’s it feel?”
Ash sipped his shot like it was water. Because that was what it tasted like. Part of his unique brand of suckiness—tasting and feeling nothing, color blindness, and the best one: partial invisibility. “The same.”
“The same? Really?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, it’s all right.”
“God, you’re dull. No wonder no one else can stand you.” Bel grinned.
“The alcohol tastes like water.”
His face fell. “The curse didn’t change?”
“Nope.”
“Damn. I was hoping it would dampen or something after we escaped.”
“That’s not how it works.”
