Wings are interesting appendages. They never fail to attract attention. Lucifer’s are beautiful in keeping with his angelic beginnings. More than one demon had lost a limb for the temerity of attempting to touch them. I’ve wondered how he keeps them so pristine considering the flames, soot, and the general splatter of fluids inherent in the job.

 

Lucifer stepped to the front of the room, directly beneath the center of that hideous GOOD LUCK, VLAD! banner, his magnificent white wings unfolding in a perfect feathery arch behind him. His beauty remained as singular today as the first day I’d arrived, as bright and burning and as distant as the stars. The wings were gilding on an already stunning lily, though they worked wonders on getting a roomful of higher demons to shut up and pay attention to him.

 

“Greetings, Hellspawn!” His voice boomed in that special, angelic way that always started with ‘Fear Not!’ and made mortals shit themselves.

 

“We’ve come together today to celebrate the afterlife’s work of a man we all know and tolerate. Let’s hear it for Vlad Dracul, the son of the dragon!”

 

Cheers erupted from the gathered assemblage, a cacophony of desperate hoots, hollers, whistles, and the odd shriek or two. I gave a tentative wave while Anastasia clapped beside me.

 

“For his centuries of service, it’s my honor to present him with this.” Lucifer held up a small leather box. The audience oohed and aahed with such vigor that I suspected imps had hidden beneath the tables to prod at appropriate times.

 

He beckoned me to join him. I pushed away from the table and stood. If I’d been allowed to keep my cloak, it would have swirled menacingly behind me as I made my way to the front of the room. Where was the professionalism these days? The pride in aesthetic? Now it was cargo shorts. I refrained from rolling my eyes as I stopped beside Lucifer.

 

The First opened the leather case and held it out to me. Nestled against a bed of black satin sat a gold watch. The face was set with four chips of presumably diamond at the four cardinal direction points and a single word appeared on it: FOLEX. I lifted the wristwatch out of the case—it lay heavy in my hand and limp as a serpent.

 

Odd choice. There was no time in Hell, just the unending cycle of punishment, unbroken by repentance or noticeable change. Souls didn’t need to sleep or eat. What was time to eternity?

 

Lucifer gestured toward the audience, so I held up the watch so everyone could see the gift for all my years of service.

​

What in Hell was I supposed to do with a wristwatch?​​