A/N:

So, I lied. This isn't the last chapter. The next one is, with an epilogue to follow. You might be wondering, gentle reader, why I have been taking so bloody long. The answers are various—the holidays, a nasty stomach bug, family obligations, severe writer's block... the usual for this time of year. There was one contributing factor to my distraction that was atypical. We discovered that there will soon be an addition to the family and (for once) not of the furry, four-footed variety. My girlfriend/editor, KT, is pregnant. So, yeah. I've been a bit distracted.

In other news, no I am not going to stop writing. I'll have a dry spell or two in a handful of months, but that's a ways off, yet. I have a lot of ideas and planned stories, but I need your help. I have too damn many. I want to know what you want to see next. I'll be taking a small break to get my brain straight and clean up a few of my outstanding projects, but once that's done I'll be starting a new set of pieces. I'll be announcing the candidate stories and details with the next chapter.

I think that's it, so here we go! I apologize for the end of the chapter in advance. Please, bear with me. It'll be worth it. ;)

Finnick was getting tired of hauling ass. This was supposed to be an easy job—a working vacation, if you will. He'd get in some drinking, do whatever shit jobs Nick needed, maybe find a vixen to break. The kind of stuff he enjoyed when he wasn't doing the run-and-hide thing in Hell or working his informants. And, suddenly, reality was on its head. Baphomet was dead. Nick was the Devil. And that had just been the start.

Running weapons across the border was nothing he wasn't prepared for. Nick needed what he needed on these little missions, and it was Finnick's job to get it for him. Everything he'd done since then? No. Deranged mortals were amusing, but seeing them outside of Hell was not a pleasant sight. Hell was where insanity lived. That was its place. Elsewhere, it was disruptive. Finnick was still pissed about the beer he'd lost when the riot began. In the last few days, he'd done more than in the previous few centuries, at least. And that was being conservative.

Now, he was shackled with a Cursori, of all things. He'd broken into Hell to raid the Archives with the help of a severed toe, fought off a posse of nutjob cultists, run more errands than he could tolerate, done bodyguard detail, been molested by Nick's doorkeeper, and helped murder the Divine. At this point, there was nothing to be done except hope for the best.

That, and follow his orders. Finnick knew his contact would be at the café despite the city-wide evacuation currently underway.

"Finny," Gazelle simpered. "Why are we here? The city is evacuating. Don't we have to meet Nick and the Lieutenant?"

"I know. I took their call," he snapped back. "I got something to do before we meet up."

Gazelle stopped at the door and crossed her arms. "What could you possibly have to do? Obviously, something unpleasant…"

"It ain't the job that's bad. It's the mammal."

"Why, Finnick—" a rumbling alto replied from behind the door to the next room—"one would think you weren't happy to see me."

Finnick snorted in disgust and led the way into the kitchen behind the sitting area. "Liam."

"I thought we'd established that." The wolf didn't turn to look at them or even glance up from his work.

"You're reminding me of why I don't like you."

"Your appreciation of my company is inconsequential," the wolf replied easily. "You're here because you want me for something. What is it?"

Finnick hated dealing with mortals, especially atheists. They had no respect and half of his intimidation was lost on them. This atheist, however, was a special case of unpleasant. The wolf was short and stocky with mottled grey-black and tan fur and unusually long whiskers on his eyebrows. He was one of Nick's favorites and Finnick's second-most-loathed mortal in Creation. The one positive the fennec saw in the wolf was his reliability. His word was inviolable, and he'd given it—not that you'd know it as he stood at the café's kitchen, cooking in a flower-print apron and reading a newspaper.

Gazelle leaned in, whispering, "Finny, who is this?"

"Finny?" Liam snorted before he could answer. "Don't tell me Finnick Vulpinski's got himself a girlfriend now."

"That's not your business."

"Everything in my kitchen is my business," the wolf replied with a dead-eyed stare at the fennec. "You knew that when you brought her here. Or are you trying to play games again?"

Finnick bit his tongue as their host turned his attention to the angel. "Come here, if you please. Miss?"

"Gazelle." The angel chirped.

The wolf cocked his head and ears mid-step. "Would that be your species, designation, preference, or a statement of the obvious?"

"It's my name," she retorted.

A small smile flitted onto the wolf's features. "Very well, Miss Gazelle. Come here, please."

Finnick nodded when she glanced at him, and she stepped forward. Her obedience made Liam smile wider, while Finnick suppressed a snarl. With a flick of the wrist, Liam shifted his skillet to a cool burner and stepped into what most canids would consider "intimate proximity". His nose stopped just off her throat and shoulder, hovering by her collarbone, and she froze. It took everything Finnick had in him not to leap at the lupine in retaliation.

With a long, slow inhalation later Liam leaned back but otherwise didn't move. "Huh."

"W-w-what?" Gazelle stuttered.

The wolf ignored her question. "Very interesting, Finny. It seems you aren't the only one."

"Only what, wolf?" Finnick grated out.

Liam stepped back from the confused angel just as briskly as he'd stepped in. "She smells just like you. Different, but in the same way. Yet different."

Gazelle beat Finnick to the punch. "What do you mean?"

"You smell like a medium ungulant. You also smell like something I've only ever smelled on Finnick." For a moment, the wolf's eyes unfocused and he stared into the space over his stove. "Like the fifth note in a barber's shop quartet. It doesn't exist, yet it does." Then he shook himself and stabbed at his skillet with a long, thin-bladed knife.

Finnick watched, paling under his fur as a morsel of something he couldn't identify was held out to the Cursori.

"Here." Liam offered. "By way of apology. I'm aware of my eccentricities."

Gazelle daintily accepted the bite from the end of the wicked-looking knife and immediately moaned in pleasure. "Oh, Heavens…. This is good."

"Glad to hear it," Liam replied unctuously. "It'll be on the menu next week, if you want more."

"We aren't here for an appetizer," Finnick growled in frustration.

"Then, what is my business with you?"

"Why aren't you leaving?" The Cursori's innocent question made Finnick's paws clench into fists. "The city is evacuating. Aren't you afraid?"

The wolf turned back to his stovetop. "What would I be afraid of? Storms come and go. And I'm hungry."

"That's enough," Finnick cut in. "Liam, I want what I left with you."

"Finally. Ready to relieve me of my burden, huh?" The wolf pulled a small pouch from his jacket pocket and set it on the counter in front of Finnick, holding it in place with a claw. "Do you have my pay?"

"I got your money." The imp growled as he set an envelope on the counter.

"And the rest of it?"

"That'll be with Nick."

"Ah." Liam smirked. "That's right. You traded on your boss's name, didn't you?"

Finnick felt his teeth bare at the wolf. "I gave my word you'd get yours. You need to collect it from him though. I told you that when we made our bargain."

"You did. What will Mr. Wilde say when he discovers this, I wonder?" A new skillet appeared from a shelf and a new batch of ingredients began making their way into it.

"That's not your concern, " Finnick snapped.

"Hmm… I suppose not. Either way I'll get my pay—from you or Mr. Wilde…" Liam looked up from his work and straight at Gazelle, who flinched. "Or your little friend. Remember that Finnick."

"My word is as good as yours, wolf."

"If only that were true." Liam's gaze sharpened. "I've never let down a client or broken my word. Can you claim the same?"

"No."

"Exactly." The wolf lifted his claw and turned his attention to stirring the new dish. "Take it. Please, inform Mr. Wilde I want a meeting as soon as he's done with his current business."

Finnick snatched the pouch, stuffing it into a pocket. "What makes you think he's up to anything?"

The wolf laughed quietly. "Mr. Wilde is exactly the sort of mammal to engineer these sorts of events. Or take advantage of them. Did he ever manage that coup he was talking about when last we spoke?"

"Yeah." Finnick shifted uncomfortably at the memory. "He just did a few days ago."

"Ah, corporate warfare…. I look forward to hearing about it from him first hand."

"Whatever." The imp grumbled as he turned to leave.

"A moment!" Liam called, stalling Finnick's steps. "I never let recipes out my door unfinished, but perhaps this will be useful." The wolf pulled a loaf of warm bread, a petite wedge of cheese, and a container of something that smelled spicy and sweet together from his larder. He pressed them into Gazelle's arms saying, "Just in case this is Eschaton, you'll have a good meal to fortify you on your way to the hereafter."

Gazelle's half-nervous giggle grated on Finnick's ears. "Come on," he muttered.

"Bye-bye, Finny," Liam drolled. "My best to the family."

As soon as they were out of the café, Gazelle rounded on him. "What in heaven's name was that all about? Who was he?"

Finnick shuddered. "He's…a mortal."

"That's it?" she replied incredulously. "I found him unsettling, and I'm an angel. You're an imp. Shouldn't he be inherently awed by me and scared of you?"

The little fox suppressed a shudder. "Liam's a special case. He's different from most mortals."

The Cursori's curiosity only seemed to sharpen. "How so?"

"You'd have to ask Nick, but I wouldn't recommend it. You need to know that the wolf in there is bad news," Finnick muttered. "He's one of Nick's 'protégés', if that gives you any idea."

Her expression drew into a mou of distaste. "Protégé? How?"

"Misery knows and I don't want to." Finnick shook himself to get rid of the lingering crawling sensation. "Let's just get moving. We have to get to this Cliffside place. Know anything about it?"

"Sadly, I do."

Gazelle's grieving tone stopped Finnick in his tracks. "What's wrong?"

"Before I became a Cursori, I was a Guardian Angel." Gazelle hugged herself, but her face was cold and hard. "I was assigned to a troubled cub who ended up in Cliffside. It's not a place where the ill are healed."

Finnick paced beside her, liking the situation less and less. "What is it then?"

She swallowed hard with her eyes on the ground. "A prison for the criminally insane."

Judy looked out from her perch above the approach to the hospital and frowned. "There are a lot of mammals down there."

Nick huffed a quiet laugh next to her. "You sure that 'mammal' applies anymore, Carrots?"

The road leading up to the building was saturated with what Judy could only imagine were a mix of patients, hospital staff, and cultists. She could make out several of the wicked knives used in the assault on the ZPD in their paws and occasionally peals of maniacal laughter would reach her ears. As if that wasn't concerning enough, there were several figures that moved in ways too similar to the way Lollipop had during their meetings. The tentacles didn't hurt that impression either.

"I never thought I'd see the real thing, even in part." Nick sounded almost reverent.

Judy side-eyed her fox. "What are you talking about?"

"Those things down there. The ones that aren't moving right." He nodded at a grotesque silhouette. "They're devils."

She snorted gently. "I thought that was your title."

"My title, yes." Nick slid back and rested on his haunches. "But it came from an older myth—the monsters from beyond the Fringe the Host fought when Creation was fresh and new, or so the stories go. I guess we know they weren't make-believe."

Judy sighed in frustration. "Now that we have our history lesson for the evening out of the way, what are we going to do?"

"I, for one, want a better look," he commented. "I also prefer to attack from behind, if I can."

"How are we supposed to manage that?" She cast her gaze over the tableau again. "There's one elevated road along the top of the waterfall and nothing else. It's practically a medieval keep, complete with moat."

"Good for keeping invaders out and crazies in." Nick chortled as he held up a paw. "I agree, except for two facts."

Judy arched an eyebrow. "And those would be?"

"If you read the ambient mana in the area, you'll notice that the courtyard itself is charged, but nothing else."

"I caught that. It's practically a null." Judy sat back, drumming her fingers. "Your point?"

He smiled thinly. "Lollipop doesn't care about the building. Just the driveway and courtyard."

"Well, yes. But how does that help us?"

"We know where the sigil spell is focused," Nick's gaze drifted up to the building. "And we have the option of higher ground."

Judy squinted at her fox as she puzzled out his words, glancing at the destination he implied. "How do we get up there?"

"Magic will be sensed. Flight will be obvious…" Nick scratched his chin. "I could use my spear, but reality is fragile as it is."

"How are you at rock climbing?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Climbing rock, I'm fine. Climbing water is another matter."

"I didn't mean across the cliff face. The water pressure would sweep us away." Judy preened a bit at being ahead of him for a change. "I meant the underside of the causeway and up the side of the building."

Nick's eyebrows rose fractionally. "That…is ambitious."

She grinned cheekily. "Is the devil afraid of a little water spray?"

"The Devil is wondering how you plan to make the trip," Nick replied with a smirk.

Judy clasped her paws behind her back to hide their nervous fidgeting. "I was thinking that I'd hitch a ride on my boyfriend."

His face fell into bemused smile. "You choose now to try out the term?"

"May not get another chance."

"Fair enough. You can hold onto my chest while I climb, but no bunny business," he admonished.

"I'll save it for later, then?" Judy felt her cheeks burn at her own audacity, but she refused to look away.

"I'm sure your boyfriend will appreciate it."Nick delivered his statement with a warmly mocking tone that left Judy confused.

She didn't have time to think about it. He didn't sound upset or angry, but there was something he wasn't saying.

"Incidentally, honey, who's the lucky guy?" Nick tossed over his shoulder.

"You of course, you—," reality snapped—"…what did you call me?"

"I called you 'honey'. It's an endearment. You know—" he held up his paw and Judy's world shrank— "the kind used between mates?"

The Bondmark on his paw had shrunk to a thick band on his ring finger. The whirling lines and stray threads of white-gold were gone, consolidated into one simple, elegant design. She could barely make out the ancient Enochian dancing across the face of it. She glanced at her own paw and saw her own bondmark was the same—a thick band of beautifully twisted barbed wire around her finger with a word in high demonic as plain as day.

"Two words, sweetheart," Nick continued lightly. "That's all it would take. Or would your boyfriend object?"

Judy suddenly found breathing difficult. "This is how you do it? Now?"

"May not get another chance." He shrugged. "I assume it's still a little early for the next step, so I'll refrain for now. We'll save it for an opportune moment."

"You're up to something." She closed the distance to her fox with a purpose. "I know it."

Nick leaned down until they were eye-to-eye. "It depends on if my girlfriend trusts me or not."

The urges to kiss and throttle him conflicted sweetly in her mind. "I'm going to murder you."

His nose brushed her her cheek on its way up to her ear where he whispered, "You can try if you want to."

Nick had never felt more conceited than he did in that moment. Granted, he was hanging by his claws to the underside of a causeway with a rabbit clinging to his chest, but he considered that an extra boost to his ego. To be so buoyant in such adverse circumstances made it success with a handicap—a further reason to crow.

Keeping the fact that he knew her Name a secret until just the right moment had been difficult, but worth the effort. There was no way he could have kept anything from her once the Names were said. He would feel everything his mate felt, and she would feel him in turn. Every twinge of desire she experienced would be his to savor, and he'd get thumped in the ribs for his reciprocating interest. It would be something truly magical, but it would have to wait.

Ignoring the power such an act would create, it'd be an enormous distraction and there were a couple unknowns that he had to sort out. When they were ready, however, two words would reshape reality. He just had to time it right. Misery willing, it could tip the scales in the upcoming conflict. If all went as he planned, they'd get the drop on Lollipop in hilarious fashion.

He didn't even need to laugh.

Not that he could safely. There was an army waiting for them a few feet of concrete and asphalt above them. Silence was their ally and the roaring water below them muffled any sounds they might have made, but neither were excuses for carelessness.

Handhold by careful handhold, Nick made his way along the length of the road from the riverbank to the glorified rock upon which their destination perched. Things were peachy until about halfway across. Skittering claws and dragging flesh reached their ears from above, and he stopped dead. There was something above them that was listening. Snuffling sounds came moments later. It was all Nick could do to hold them up and not make any noise. Despite his care and being muffled by the water, they'd been detected—or at least raised suspicion—so any noise could give them away. Judy had the good sense to freeze when he did, so she was still when he spoke to her through the Bond.

Do something.

Like what?

If I had an idea, I'd semaphore it to you.

You're a strange one, honey.

Really? Now?

In response to his annoyed amusement, he received an unrepentant mental shrug from the rabbit.

We just need a distraction.

Something loud?

Loud and confusing, preferably.

Very carefully, she shifted her head to face the latticework of concrete supports under the causeway and did something that surprised him. She took a deep breath and howled. Most of the movement above them ceased and an urgently whispered exchange ensued. Judy belted out another howl into the mess of concrete beams and the sentries on the causeway lost their minds. First one, then two, then dozens of howls tore through the night sky. Moments later, gibbering screams and footfalls joined the cacophony as the devils and cultists went mad. Grinning goofily at the absurdity of the situation, Nick skittered across the rest of the way to the island in silence.

Once they reached land, Nick turned to his bondmate. "You are a cunning little bunny."

"Why not say that through the Bond?" Judy whispered.

His smile deepened. "Some things are worth saying out loud."

She tried to suppress her smile. "Extra effort for more meaning?"

"That and I like hearing my own voice." The punch he got for his arrogance was worth it. "It was especially clever of you to aim your howl into the concrete."

"Sound refraction is a beautiful thing. They didn't have a clue where it was coming from." She led the way around the rocks to a semi-obscured nook, and Nick followed happily. "I used a similar trick a lot on the Fringe."

"Good to know," he commented, mostly to himself.

"Now—" Judy continued brightly—"we just need to go up."

"What are you thinking, Honey Bunny? Up a drain pipe?" he asked sardonically.

"You read my mind," she cheeked back.

"Uh-huh." Nick patted his shoulders. "Hop on, Hop-a-long. There's one about four stories up that's still out of their sight lines."

"True…" her reply was accompanied by a smirk he didn't recognize.

A moment later, he was left slack-jawed as Judy launched herself off the ledge and up to grab a knob of broken concrete. Nick watched as she swung herself up with all the ease and grace of a veteran gymnast and used the momentum to kick herself off towards another ledge further up the wall. He watched, transfixed and bemused, as she ascended the wall, zigzagging chaotically up the derelict façade from handhold to handhold. When she reached the downspout, she sent a cheeky wink his way before vanishing into the pipe. Nick followed a few moments later—much less gracefully—using his claws to grip the rough surface and climb hand over hand.

When he joined her inside the large opening, he couldn't help but ask, "Where did you learn that?"

"This isn't the first time I've infiltrated an enemy stronghold," she said over her shoulder as she picked her way along. "I picked up that little trick breaking demon fortresses on campaign. It pays dividends to be petite."

"Clever, a tiny powerhouse, and such diverse talents…"

He could practically feel her blush. "This isn't the time for flattery, but thank you."

"I'll sing your praises more fully later," he replied in a theatrical whisper.

"I can think of better uses for your tongue. Now knock it off."

"Yes, dear."

Judy punched him.

Slipping up the drain pipe wasn't the most glamorous of routes, but it was no hardship. Nick had been worse places, and he was sure Judy had as well. Emerging into an abandoned surgical theater was less pleasant. Especially with the remains of the previous tenants littering the room.

"Old bones, broken flesh, and dried blood," Judy commented as she surveyed the room.

Nick snorted in disdain. "I'll have to get the name of the decorator."

"I'm pretty sure we've met them," her darker tone was not missed by the fox.

Nick hummed absently to himself as he followed the angel out of the surgery and into a hall of horrors. The hallway was lined with cells, the hall-facing walls were a thick transparent glass that must have once allowed medical personnel to observe the inmates. Now, they were a tableau of suffering. Abominations of flesh and bone occupied the little rooms. Some were puddles of living, pain-wracked meat that shivered, wept, and gurgled where they had been left. Others were hiding in corners between the walls and ceiling, while more pooled in the middle of the floor or crouched under the ragged, clinical furniture.

None of them reacted to their passing, either too broken or consumed with their own suffering to perceive the world around them. This was a relief to Nick for two reasons. First, if they did sense them and react, it would raise the alarm on their arrival. Second, he could feel the pain his rabbit was enduring. If they did anything, he was sure she'd hurt more for it. To his relief, she had the presence of mind speak through the Bond instead of aloud.

Poor things.

I really should sue Lollipop for trying to steal my job. Suffering like this is meant for Hell and those that earn it.

How can you be sure these mortals didn't?

I can't, but judgement isn't my area. I'm the punishment, not the Judge.

Leave it to Death, huh?

If you must rely on myths to make you feel better, sure.

Nick felt her displeasure at his dismissive tone, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had no time for myths or faith. His was a practical mind, so both judgement and the mechanism for how souls ended up in Heaven and Hell were beyond his concern. Death, if he or she—or it—existed, was of no account.

Can we at least end their suffering?

We may as well take off your bangles and my Collar, set off some fireworks, and set fire to the place if we do that.

Before she could reply, Nick sent her a wave of reassurance.

When we're done with Lollipop. I promise.

Judy didn't respond past a curt nod, but he felt her understanding. Her anger was also very evident. Apparently, his girlfriend was very much an avenging angel when a wrong was done to those she deemed in her care. As the Divine Apparent, that was a pretty wide net to cast. It was encouraging, but dangerous. He would have to be very diplomatic when he finally told her what role he would need her to play in their little endgame with the monster that had been dogging their steps. When they reached the roof, Nick tested the air and moved as close as he dared to the edge of the building.

In the distance, the silhouette of the city stood out in all its blacked-out glory against the chaotically churning skies and lightning. The storm hadn't reached their perch, but it would and soon. He wasn't sure if the calm they found themselves in was the edge or the eye of the storm, but if he were a betting mammal—and he was—he'd say eye and hope for the best. Looking up, Nick grimaced. He could practically feel the legions of angels behind the clear sky, waiting just across the Veil for the opportunity to pounce. They made a comforting counterpoint the pressure he felt from Hell. He could practically smell the Sulphur.

Judy wasted no time in peeking over the edge and asking, "So, what's the plan?"

"First, a little back up," Nick replied as he slipped a bronze Coin out of his pocket.

"Is that a good idea?"

"We're close enough that the ambient power and etheric disturbance will hide it." The Coin vanished and a small portal opened. "Besides, getting here was the important part. Now that we're here we have the advantage and there's nothing they can do about it. Even if they attack, our advantage remains."

Judy's reply was forestalled as Finnick and Gazelle stepped through the small hole in reality and it snapped shut. She wasn't happy. Nick was up to something. That fact alone bothered her. He was hiding it from her and they both knew it. That made it worse. The "experiments" they'd passed had stoked that irritation to a low-grade anger. It wasn't enough to make her irrational, but it was definitely raising her level of impatience.

The anticipation growing in the fox wasn't helping matters. The thrill of battle was moments away and she felt his eagerness as acutely as her own. With the arrival of the other two members of their little troop, Judy assumed they'd be ready to throw down. Infuriatingly, Nick showed no sign of taking action other than snatching something out of the air.

"Finnick," Nick looked inquiringly at the pouch and then the imp. "What is this?"

"The last order I received from your father fulfilled."

Judy blinked at the statement, delivered with none of the fennec's usual anger. "You knew?"

"I've known since the War," he stated plainly.

Nick found his voice. "You've known my lineage and said nothing?"

Gazelle's hoof came to rest on the imp's shoulder. "Finny…"

"Part of my orders. I was the last retainer your father saw before he left for Tartarus. He never came back, but he left me with that and instructions to find you, if I could, and protect you." The small fox looked hard at the ground. "When I finally found you in Luxuria I was already broken and next to useless, but I knew exactly who you were. Since then, I've been waiting for the right time to give you that."

Judy felt confusion and curiosity flow through the bond from the fox, but no anger. "What is it?"

"Lucifer's touchstone."

Nick's surprise matched her own.

"His…. Nick, with this you have his memories and essence." Judy wasn't sure if she was happy or scared.

"Not essence," he corrected. "Not exactly. Just a tiny piece of him."

"You're quibbling." Judy turned to the weary looking imp. "What does this mean, Finnick?"

The little fox glanced at her before turning to Nick. "Offer that and your touchstone to your armor."

Nick looked genuinely confused. "Why?"

Finnick smiled weakly. "Suddenly, you don't trust me?"

"No, Finnick. At this point I trust you implicitly." With a wave of his paw, Nick summoned his touchstone.

Judy had to ask. "I know you left that in the mortal plane when we were in your Den, but where did you put it?"

"Mixed in with the crown jewels."

Judy couldn't believe her ears.

Nick shrugged easily. "Where else would a sapphire the size of a fist blend in?"

She sputtered a laugh along with the imp and Cursori. "You are utterly, utterly insane."

Nick opened the pouch and an emerald the size of his thumb plopped into his palm. Judy noticed it was the same color as his eyes. His expression was warm and soft as they considered what lay in his paw and Judy's heart went out to him.

He stood abruptly, saying, "Well, it's about time, I guess."

His armor flowed from the torque on his collar bones to cover him. When Judy had met Lefty she'd seen nothing but grotesque demonic patterns, but the armor seemed to react to it bearer. It fitted his form from throat to toes in a medieval modern style—part armored superhero from the movies, part dark-ages knight. Part angelic and part profane. The living metal flowed over the two stones and they reappeared in the tangle of tiles and blades that made up its head.

"Now, you are attuned to Tartarus and Hell through your father's essence." Finnick intoned. Then, to everyone's astonishment, he kneeled. "Hell is yours, my liege. I will serve you as I served your father, willingly. If you will have me."

"I accept."

"Good." The little fox grinned with far too many teeth. "Now give me back my fucking Collar."

At that moment, another quake rocked the landscape.

"So many questions that will have to wait." Nick huffed a breath. "Judy, one thing needs to happen before I take this off. Are you ready?"

She settled herself. "What do I need to do?"

"Answer one question."

Her face fell. "Which is…?"

"Lady Judith Hopps, Divine Apparent and senior ranking angel of the Host. I, Nicolas Wilde, Devil Apparent and senior ranking demon, petition you to suspend the Wager until such time as new terms can be negotiated, including a full ban on all ingress and egress of celestial entities until they are concluded." Nick stretched out his paw. "Do you agree?"

Judy's mind screeched to a halt and went into overdrive at the same moment. "I can't!"

"Who else qualifies?" Nick inquired mildly.

"Will it be reinstated?"

"Once we've made calamari out of our annoying friend? Yes."

She met his eyes. "You swear?"

"Every damn day," he quipped.

Her paw smacked into her forehead. "You're impossible."

"And running short on time. You have my word."

Judy glared at the fox before grasping the proffered paw and shaking it. "Agreed."

"Now, that's out of the way."

Nick muttered a word that grated on the mind and the Collar came to life. It slithered into his palm and in a smooth movement was flicked around the little fox's neck.

A wide feral grin stretched across Nick's features. "This is going to feel good."