By the time Jack returned, Rory and Layla had dragged Erin downstairs, and the three were sitting around the fireplace. He stepped down into the Yam’s taproom and pulled back the hood of his cloak, only earning second glances from a few of the patrons waiting for breakfast. Most had met the Chosen by now, but a few diehards were still suspicious of the undead no matter how many biscuits he brought for breakfast.

“Here you go, Tilly. Is this the right flour? Saffron said it was for beer rolls or something?” Jack sat the five-pound sack down on the counter.

“Aye laddie, that’s the stuff,” she smiled and lugged it back to the kitchen.

As she walked away, she called back over her shoulder, “Breakfast in ten or so.”

Jack set the dozen honey puffs that Tilly had ordered on the bar, then carried the rest of his burdens over to the fireplace where the other Chosen sat, apparently debating their plans for the day from what he gathered.

“I’m telling you, I heard some guys last night talking about a cabaret in the Upper Ward, and that’s what I want to do tonight,” Layla rose and took one of the boxes from Jack as he approached.

“Aww, thank-,” he smiled, then fell silent as the succubus opened the lid, grimaced, and plopped it roughly on the low table.

Then she snatched the next box in Jack’s hands before opening that one and making another sour face. She deposited it on top of the other and looked up at the nightbringer, who had taken several steps away from her toward the opposite end of the table.

“Jack, where are the… you bastard!” she cried.

He had walked away with the box of hellfire honey puffs, and was stuffing one into his mouth as she watched.

“Noooooooo… I… Jackson… ppppplllllease. Gief… gief us the puffs, we needs it precious,” she sagged to her knees and began to scuttle slowly across the floor.

“Oh, give her one before she bursts a vessel,” Rory laughed.

Jack opened the box and tossed one high above her head. The “o” of surprise on her face was quickly replaced by a determined furrow as she tracked the pastry and lunged for it, only to miss it as Erin snatched it from the air.

“Legs, that one’s miiiiine,” she pouted.

The dreadnought stuffed the entire puff into her mouth.

“Jesus. Jackson… you lucky fucker,” Layla’s eyes widened.

Erin choked on the honey puff.

“See what you get,” the succubus teased. “Okay, fer real though. Please?”

“And thank you,” Jack smiled and handed her one of the delectable treats.

“So, we’re going to actually do something today, yeah?” Rory asked.

“Magistrate, Ashhand’s shop to pick up our armor, Blackwicke Manor to see their stitcher, then how bout to the Guildhall, just to look at the quests?” Jack offered.

“You’re a workaholic, mate,” Rory smiled.

Layla took the puff and slowly slid half of it into her mouth, her tongue drifting along the honeyed surface until she finally took a bite, eyes rolling into the back of her head and a lewd moan escaping her lips.

“El, people are staring,” Erin said.

“Let em watch,” the succubus let out another lascivious noise.

Jack and Rory made eye contact at that moment, both on the verge of some sarcastic comment, when Jack watched an idea blossom inside Rory’s mind. The unmistakable widening of the salesman’s eyes, the mischievous grin, and the slow bite of the lip all told Jack it was going to be a doozy.

Rory stood up.

He turned to the assembled patrons of the Yam.

“I notice you gentlemen have taken an interest in my friend here. As it so happens, she’s in the market for breakfast, and I’m sure at least one of you will fit the bill,” the salesman smiled.

Erin: Rory, what the fuck are you doing!?

Layla: No, no. Let him finish.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Layla’s eyes had turned a brilliant gold.

Layla: I love you, Rory. I want you to know that.

Rory: My pleasure, tart.

“Wot’s that mean, exactly?” one of the dwarves spoke up.

Rory looked over at Layla, lounging in the chair with her blouse open to the third button, and cracked a grin that would’ve made Mephistopheles blush.

“Reveal yourself to these fine gentlemen, demon,” Rory commanded.

“Yes, my master,” Layla replied coyly, then stood up and allowed her mirage to shimmer away.

The succubus was dressed in one of the outfits from Mistelein, a bright yellow skirt that now shifted suspiciously as her spaded tail crept out from beneath the hem, and a sheer, pale blue blouse that hid absolutely none of her curvaceous body. The back of the blouse had ridden up as her wings worked free, revealing the pale expanse of her stomach, and she trailed a finger from her naval to her throat, enjoying the effect as several pairs of eyes followed the gesture.

Layla: Hook. Line. And sinker. God, you are so fucking sexy.

Rory: I know.

Jack: This feels… somehow dishonest.

Erin: You can’t prostitute Layla, Rory!

Layla: Pfft, who says I’m gonna charge.

Rory: Shush, working here.

“As you may be able to guess, gentlemen, my familiar here needs to sate certain, unfortunate appetites on a… regular,” Rory dragged the word out, giving it an indecent twist, “... basis. Would anyone care to sample the forbidden fruit?”

Four hands went up.

Rory: Gotcha.

Erin: You two are unbelievable. You should be separated.

Layla: Shhh. My wingman is working.

“The terms of my agreement with this creature require she be allowed the right of refusal, so I leave the arrangements up to her,” Rory waved absently and sat down, a Cheshire-cat grin painted on his face.

At the end of the bar, one of the human patrons that had given Jack the stink eye when he entered stood up.

“How do these good men know that creature won’t drain them of all life in the throes of passion?” he smiled darkly.

Rory made a show of rolling his eyes at the fellow.

“Demon, you are forbidden from killing or injuring any citizen of Moryven during the course of sating your feeding habits, understood?” Rory steepled his fingers.

Rory: Like fucking clockwork.

Jack: You knew someone would ask.

Layla: Fuck. Why are you so gay? You’re so fucking hot right now, I would do you on this table.

Rory stifled a bark of laughter, which came out as a choked cough. Layla grinned at him. Erin rolled her eyes at their antics. Jack sat down, shaking his head.

Layla bowed her head, “Yes, my master.”

The same human that had raised the objection stepped forward.

“In that case, I volunteer,” he smiled.

“You’ll do. Let’s go, meat,” Layla called haughtily and made for the stairs.

The half-elf sitting with the human called after him, “Bregan… ahem… you, uh, want some company?”

He attempted to answer, but Layla cut him off with a flare of golden light from her eyes.

“More the merrier. Let’s go,” she curled her fingers toward the half-elf, who was immediately mesmerized by the swaying hips that turned to head up the stairs.

Tilly had watched this entire display, slowly wiping down tables in the bar as she made her way toward the Chosen sitting by the fireplace. She leaned down and wiped the table, lifting the boxes of baked goods one by one.

“Laddie, yeh dinnae tell me she was a demon,” the dwarf whispered, so low even the Chosen had a hard time hearing her.

“Is it a problem, Tilly? I was under the impression as long as she doesn’t misbehave, it’s fine,” Rory smiled.

“If she hurts that fella, I’ll have ta call the Watch, Master Rory,” Tilly worriedly replied.

“She won’t, Tilly. It’s just a show so she can satisfy her libido,” Jack put his hand on her arm.

“Arright. I’ll trust yeh. She seems like such a sweet girl,” Tilly shook her head.

“She’s a bint, is what she is,” Rory huffed, but the corners of his mouth turned up.

Layla: Tell Darius he has to fight me for you next time you see him, Rory.

Rory: He did two combat tours in Afghanistan, tart. He’d eat you alive.

Layla: God, I wish. I’ve seen your beach vacation photos. Those fucking abs.

Rory: I miss those abs. And everything else. But specifically, at this moment, those abs.

Layla: This isn’t the threesome I was hoping to get, but I’ll take it.

Rory: Hands off my boyfriend, tart.

Layla: Both hands are full right now, sweetness.

Erin: Gross.