Chapter 599

Just outside New York City, on a deserted stretch of highway, a massive black aircraft suddenly shimmered into view as its stealth systems disengaged. It descended slowly until it was flying level with the road below.

Then the rear cargo ramp opened.

The aircraft never actually landed.

Instead, it maintained altitude and flew parallel to the highway while a sleek black six-wheeled sports car shot out of the cargo bay, heading in the opposite direction.

"Thanks, guys!"

Evenson grinned from behind the wheel. He raised one hand and gave the aircraft behind him a proud middle finger as it slowly climbed back into the sky.

"Now that was fun!"

He smacked the steering wheel excitedly.

He’d wanted to try something like that ever since he’d first seen those ridiculous car-chase movies.

What Evenson didn’t know was that, shortly after his departure, a police officer wearing a white safety helmet stepped out from behind a massive billboard.

He lifted his radio.

"Dispatch, we’ve got a vehicle suspected of reckless driving and speeding. I got the license plate."

Evenson remained blissfully unaware.

He drove all the way home convinced that the day had gone unusually well.

Every light had been green.

There hadn’t even been traffic.

For once, the universe hadn’t tried to murder him.

"This place better still be standing."

Evenson pushed open the front door and shouted into the house.

"I’m back!"

Nobody answered.

He waited.

Still nothing.

That was when he noticed something strange.

All of his demon pets were gathered at the bottom of the stairs, staring upward.

Even Doom, who normally seemed to regard moving from his usual spot as a personal insult, was there.

"What are you all looking at?"

Evenson walked over, puzzled.

Of all of them, Hubbles was the first to notice him properly.

The demonic dog whipped around, his expression instantly transforming into something feral. His teeth were bared, and his narrowed eyes made him look like a wolf from some frozen wilderness.

Then he recognized Evenson.

"Oh! Boss! You’re back?"

Hubbles’ expression changed so quickly it was almost impressive.

His lips snapped shut over his teeth. His eyes widened until they were practically round.

The result was so absurd that Evenson nearly laughed.

"I already shouted from the door."

Evenson sighed.

"You guys don’t have to entertain guests. Nobody ever comes here anyway. But seriously, your guard instincts are terrible. Someone could clean out the entire place and you’d probably notice three days later."

Then he looked around.

"Where’s Clea?"

He tried to sound casual.

He wasn’t feeling casual.

When he’d left, he’d promised Clea that he was only going out to collect a bounty and come home for a nice meal.

Instead, he’d been gone for several days and had somehow ended up on an international assignment.

Technically, it had been work.

That didn’t necessarily mean Clea would care.

"I came from the Void..."

Doom continued staring upstairs, his expression blank.

His voice was deep and emotionless.

"She’s upstairs."

"Oh. In the bedroom."

Evenson nodded.

Then his imagination immediately wandered somewhere it absolutely did not belong.

In the bedroom...

Maybe if he went upstairs now...

Could they perhaps—

He caught himself.

Right.

Focus.

"Sarah came back too."

The imp, Tripsy, suddenly turned toward him.

Evenson’s expression darkened.

"Hmph. So she remembered where home was."

Sarah had recently started dating Natasha, and ever since then she’d been practically impossible to find. The two of them spent most of their time out together.

Why had she suddenly come home today?

He looked around.

"But where is she?"

"Upstairs with Mistress Clea."

This time it was Tyler who answered.

The demon guard had his arms folded, though his eyes kept drifting toward the second floor.

"They’ve been up there all afternoon. Neither of them has come down."

"Mm."

Evenson nodded.

Then stopped.

"Wait."

His head snapped toward the stairs.

Sarah.

With Clea.

Upstairs.

All afternoon.

"...What?"

A dangerous thought surfaced.

Evenson immediately began rubbing his temples.

"It’s fine. Maybe Clea wanted someone to play with."

He forced the thought into place.

"That’s probably it."

Exactly.

He wasn’t home, so if Clea wanted someone for a game, who else could she ask?

Tyler’s hands were too big.

Tripsy’s were too small.

Doom was hopelessly slow.

And Hubbles had paws.

Sarah was the only reasonable choice.

That had to be it.

Yes.

Definitely.

Evenson dragged a chair over and sat down.

The moment his backside touched the seat, a high-pitched scream rang out from upstairs.

"Nope!"

Evenson shot to his feet.

"Absolutely not!"

He sprinted up the stairs.

He moved so fast that a master thief would probably have been embarrassed by comparison.

He threw open the bedroom door.

"What the hell—why does it smell like a bar in here?"

Alcohol fumes hit him in the face.

For one horrifying second, he thought he’d somehow walked into a liquor store after closing time.

Then he saw them.

And relaxed.

Sarah and Clea were both fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.

The floor, however, was littered with several empty bottles of strong liquor.

Sarah was clutching a pillow like it was the only thing holding her together. She looked miserable.

Clea gently patted her back.

"There you are."

Clea turned when she heard the door.

The moment she saw Evenson, her face practically collapsed with relief.

"I can’t do this anymore. Go talk to her."

Evenson blinked.

He pointed at Sarah and lowered his voice.

"What happened?"

"I honestly don’t know."

Clea spread her hands helplessly.

"Everything was fine this morning. Then Sarah came stumbling through the door around noon, completely drunk. Her eyes were red from crying, and she was carrying several bottles of liquor."

Clea sighed.

"She didn’t talk to anyone. She came straight in here, drank bottle after bottle, and started sobbing."

She looked toward the demons downstairs.

"None of your subordinates have any idea how to comfort someone. Their teammate was crying herself sick and they just stood there staring at the stairs."

Clea rubbed her forehead.

"So I came up to see what was wrong."

"And?"

"The more I asked, the harder she cried."

She gestured helplessly at the empty bottles.

"She drank all of those straight from the bottle."

Clea hesitated.

"Though... I think she got dumped."

"Dumped?"

Evenson stared at Sarah.

A succubus with a broken heart.

That was a new one.

"Boss..."

Sarah had finally noticed him.

She slowly turned her swollen eyes toward Evenson.

Her makeup had run down her face, leaving her looking thoroughly wrecked.

She tried to stop herself from crying.

"Boss... you’re finally back..."

Her voice broke.

"Little Natasha... Natasha... she dumped me. She doesn’t want me anymore..."

Then she finally lost the battle.

"Waaah!"

She buried her face against the pillow.

"I can’t live like this! I can’t survive without her!"

Evenson stared.

His expression went through several stages of confusion.

He genuinely had no idea what face he was supposed to make.

Finally, he grabbed his hair with both hands.

"Enough! What the hell is going on?!"

He pointed accusingly between them.

"Which one of you is supposed to be the succubus?!"

The fact that his own succubus was in a same-sex relationship had already been strange enough.

Now he’d discovered she was also hopelessly romantic.

Someone had dumped her, and she’d immediately started drinking herself into oblivion and declaring that life was no longer worth living.

There wasn’t a word big enough for this.

Still...

Evenson had to give Natasha credit.

That woman was terrifyingly talented.

Millions of men probably found it easy to fall for her.

That was understandable.

But turning a succubus into this kind of hopeless mess?

That took skill.

Serious skill.

"What happened?"

Evenson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You two were fine two days ago."

Sarah and Natasha had practically been inseparable.

How had everything fallen apart overnight?

"Did she start disliking your demon form?"

It seemed plausible.

Not everyone had Evenson’s unusually broad definition of normal.

"No!"

Sarah pouted miserably.

"She said my demon form was beautiful. She even said my tail was so strong and..."

She sniffled.

"...and so skilled, and especially..."

"Okay! That’s enough."

Evenson cut her off immediately.

There were some details he had no interest in hearing.

"So what actually happened?"

"I don’t know."

That one question only made Sarah more miserable.

"Everything was fine. Then the day before yesterday, Natasha suddenly said we should separate. She wouldn’t tell me why. She just left. And then she stopped contacting me."

Her voice wavered.

"Doesn’t that obviously mean she dumped me?"

"Look, it probably isn’t as bad as you think."

Evenson scratched his head.

He was actually relieved.

Maybe Sarah had simply jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

"Natasha isn’t as free as you are. She’s a high-level operative. She has missions. If she had to separate from you for a while because of an assignment, she’d obviously have to keep details secret. She might not even be able to contact you."

He shrugged.

"That’s completely normal."

Sarah didn’t look reassured.

"Then why did she change her appearance?"

Evenson frowned.

"Change what?"

"After we separated, I secretly went looking for her once."

Evenson slowly closed his eyes.

Of course she had.

"She’d gone into hiding, but my tracking skills are pretty good. I still found her."

She wiped at her tears.

"But she wouldn’t talk to me. And she stopped wearing makeup. She’s going around with a completely bare face now. She hasn’t cut her hair, either. She even straightened it."

Sarah looked personally betrayed.

"She knows I hate her hair like that! So what else could she mean?"

"You secretly went looking for her?"

Evenson gave her a long look.

"That just means she planned ahead."

Sarah blinked.

"What does that mean?"

"That hairstyle sounds ugly."

"Don’t you dare call my Natasha ugly!"

Sarah snapped so violently that Evenson instinctively leaned back.

He raised his hands.

"Okay, okay."

Even while heartbroken, she still had plenty of fight left.

"So, fine. Let’s call it a... distinctive hairstyle."

Evenson cleared his throat.

"You don’t like it. Apparently she doesn’t like it either. Most women don’t exactly enjoy making themselves look worse."

He leaned toward Sarah.

"But think about it. If she hadn’t changed her appearance into something you hate, would you have been able to stop yourself from tracking her down?"

Sarah thought about it.

A long moment passed.

"No."

"Exactly."

Evenson snapped his fingers.

"She’s supposed to be carrying out a secret mission. You keep tracking her down, and every time you find her."

He spread his hands.

"How exactly is she supposed to keep the mission secret?"

Sarah stared at him.

Then her eyes widened.

"Oh."

Her tears stopped almost instantly.

"So that’s why?"

She sat upright.

"She wasn’t trying to break up with me. She just had to stay away because of her mission."

"Right."

Evenson nodded firmly.

"That’s almost certainly what happened."

Sarah’s entire expression brightened.

"You’ve been overthinking everything. You’re too sensitive. Relax, go back to your normal routine, and wait it out."

He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"Once the mission is over, the two of you will be fine."

Sarah nodded slowly.

For the first time all afternoon, she looked like she believed him.

...