It may have been unethical of me to use the elf girl to ensure that the way was clear, and it bothered me that it bothered me. I'd never suffered from pangs of conscience before, at least not that I could remember, so I didn't quite know how to deal with it. Am I supposed to apologize or something? I didn't know anything other than that I didn't like this feeling. It was confusing, and it pissed me off.

  Without anything to punch, I kicked a rock out of the road as I came to the first cottage of the village. The cottage squatted at the village edge like it had given up on ambition. Stone foundation, timber frame gone gray with age, thatched roof that had seen better decades. An overgrown vegetable garden sprawled beside it, clearly growing wild. I spotted the leaves of various vegetables I didn’t recognize, except perhaps the carrots, all jumbled together. It was clear that they had seeded themselves at random.

  Nobody had lived here in some time. The fence needed mending, one shutter hung crooked, and there was a barn in the back that threatened to collapse under the weight of my gaze. Those were the good features. I was glad I wasn’t the one living in it.

  Thirsty, I figured that I'd tell the peasant who lived there to give me a drink, and he'd happily serve me one, given that I was a knight and all. I had no idea how wrong I was. As I got closer, I saw a figure sleeping in a rocking chair on the porch. I recognized him—the contract devil. Hell had followed me and was waiting. Or preceded me. Or something. It doesn't matter. It was sleeping in a rocking chair on the cottage's front porch that I was approaching.

  I grabbed a hold of my mace and sneaked up onto the porch, ready to brain him before he could do any black magic to me. Before I struck, however, I noticed that he had a lit cigar held between his fingers. It felt like it had been days since my last cigarette, and I was in the mood for a smoke. Stealing from a devil doesn't count, right?

  I carefully lifted the cigar out of his hand and drew in puffs until the ember flared hot enough, and I was rewarded with a massive cloud of thick aromatic smoke. It was the best cigar I'd ever had, and I'd stolen some expensive ones. My mace arm drooped as I savored it and drew forth a second cloud. It was divine. How the red devil in front of me came to possess such a heavenly cigar was beyond me.

  "Ah! Master! You've finally arrived."

  I was too shocked by his sudden awakening to brain him. "Master?"

  "Yes, Master. I am your loyal servant, contractually bound to your service for as long as you shall live."

  "Does that mean you can free yourself if you kill me?"

  "Well, um, that may actually be the case. I hadn't thought of that."

  I raised my mace to brain him.

  He dropped to his knees before me, hands raised to protect his head from the blow that was about to fall. "But, Sir! Master! I would never do that, I swear!"

  "What good is the oath of a devil?"

  "No good at all, sir, unless it's in a proper contract! But if you die, then I return to hell and have to face the execution that I staved off by writing myself into your contract. If you die, I get torn apart by demons!"

  I took another draw on the cigar as I pondered the situation. "They were about to execute you?"

  "Yes, sir. To celebrate your summoning. They were going to sacrifice ten thousand of us and swim in a pool of our blood. It would have been a glorious party if I weren't supplying the blood."

  "And what exactly did you write into the contract?"

  "That you were to be provided with a support staff to help in the execution of your duties as champion of our most magnificent sovereign, the Demon King, and that I was to serve as your administrator of contracts."

  "Demon King, eh?" That's who Old Smoky was?" I wasn't about to show it to this devil, but my knees nearly buckled just naming him. I made a mental note of that. Don't think of him by name.

  The devil prostrated himself before me. "Please, Master, don't invite his wrath! His sparing you is a miracle. He has smitten millions for lesser offenses. Your very survival boggles the mind. Do not tempt fate. I beg of you. Both of our lives depend on it. Do not mock him frivolously!"

  I was too mentally worn out with the events of the last few hours to have the initiative to do him in. "Okay, fine. You can live for now. Hey, wait a second, why are you waiting for me here?"

  "This is your house, Master. I've been waiting for you for the last three days."

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  Three days? "My house? And drop the master thing, willya? It's tiring."

  "Yes, Master. Your house. A former resident offered the village in exchange for that stone bridge so he could collect tolls. I can look up the details if you—no, okay, I won't look it up right now. In any case, this was his house, and although the village's ownership was mistakenly transferred to the wrong party due to a clerical error, the house's ownership was clear. Despite the squatters that have lived in it since, it belonged to my most exalted Demon King, and he has gifted it to you. This is your house."

  "Well, thank you for not smoking inside of it. I love a good cigar," I took another puff, "but old cigar smoke smells like ass."

  "Oh, well, I've been smoking on the porch because I can't go in."

  "Good. You can't go in without my permission. That's good to know."

  "Actually," the devil pressed the tips of his index fingers together, "it's because of the House Cat."

  "A cat?"

  "No, no. Not just a cat. A House Cat. You know. The cat that owns the house."

  "I thought you said that this is my house, and the big fella's before me."

  "Yes, that is accurate."

  "Then the cat doesn't own the house, I do."

  "Well, yes and no. You own the house, but the House Cat is the real owner of the house."

  "That doesn't make any sense."

  The devil shrugged. "Those are the rules."

  "What's your name, demon? I can't just call you ‘Demon’ all the time."

  "I, sir," he stood up so that he could perform an elaborate bow, "am Nebuchadnezzar Aristophanes Aloisius Hieronymus Chrysanthemum, at your service. And I am a devil, not a demon."

  "Okay, whatever. You're Mum from now on."

  "Sir! I must protest! You may be my master, but I am entitled to the respect that my position demands. My name is Nebuchadnezzar Aristophanes Aloisius Hieronymus Chrysanthemum, and I expect it to be used properly."

  "Sure thing, Mum. Let's go inside."

  "Sir!" his protest was stifled by my glare. "I cannot enter. The House Cat will not permit it."

  "I'm telling you that it's fine."

  "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. If you could discuss it with the cat, sir?"

  My patience was used up. It has been a long day, and it wasn't yet 9 am. I entered the house ready to face this monster that was a House Cat, thinking that it must be something like an evil Foo Dog. I cautiously looked through the doorways that led from the entrance hall, scanning the rooms. How big was it? The size of a tiger? Maybe a lion? Surely at least cougar-sized—I'd seen one of those before. I kept my shield up—perhaps a holy shield? I had no idea what that actually meant, other than it would make my chest itch if I put the two in contact—I kept it up and my mace ready as I cleared the house.

  I made my way through to the kitchen, only to spot a small tabby lying in a sunbeam on the kitchen table. Surely this couldn't be my quarry? In any case, I wasn't about to take any chances. I stalked into the kitchen, ready to take out my prey before it awakened.

  Is that you, tuna-boy? Yeah, that's you. I recognize your clumsy footsteps.

  I froze as I watched the tabby stand up and stretch.

  "Tengen?"

  She sat up, yawned, and looked at me. A paladin, eh? I never would have expected that. So, Monkey-boy, why haven't you fed me yet? I've been awake for at least five seconds.

  "You can talk?"

  I've always been able to talk; you've just been too blunt to hear me. So? Food? I've been surviving on mice for the last three weeks, waiting for you to get here. Three weeks! They're tasty, but catching them takes work, and I'm tired. I haven't slept in at least thirty seconds. I want some tuna now, please. As in now, now.

  I don't know what hit the floor first, my knapsack or my jaw. I reached out and picked Tengen up and squeezed her to my chest, tears streaming down my face. I collapsed into a chair and wept as I hadn't done in four decades, somehow keeping a hold of a poor cat that didn't want to be held. No matter what crazy situation I found myself in, I had my cat, and she affectionately had a paw pushing back against my nose.

  Seriously? Your cat? Are you really that stupid? I'm a House Cat, and this is my house. I'm not your cat, you're my human. I call the shots around here.

  "Okay, okay." I sniffed as I put her down. I dug through my backpack, found some salted pork, and offered it to her. She didn't have to say anything; her look said it all. "It's all I have. I'll make sure to get something better as soon as I can."

  Acceptable, but only as a peace offering. You need to find me some tuna.

  "Okay, Mum, you can come in now."

  Unacceptable.

  "What? Why?"

  You really are dumb. Why do you want a devil in my house?

  "He works for me."

  You cannot be serious.

  "As a heart attack. He works for me until I die, then he gets torn apart by the hordes of Hell."

  Tengen closed her eyes as if pondering the topic. Yeah, okay. He can visit, but not stay. A tearing apart by the hordes of hell is good. I wish I'd thought of it.

  I heard the door open. "Uh, hello?" Mum called from the foyer.

  "We're in the kitchen."

  He slowly poked his head around the corner and into the kitchen, stopping when he spotted Tengen. "Are you sure that this is okay? I mean, I can continue to sleep in the barn, you know."

  "Come pay homage to Tengen, then go out to the barn and catch her a mouse."

  I could see the tension writ large across his entire being as he cautiously approached and held a finger out for Tengen to sniff. She did so, but did not deign to scratch her chin on it. "Thank you, My Lady!" The tension flowed out of him with a visible rippling of the air. "Your servant, My Lady!" and with that, he was out the back door in search of a mouse.

  "What did you say to him?"

  None of your business.