Chapter 2

Seir was pulling on her sweatshirt when a familiar presence appeared on the other side of the door. Dread filled her for the expectant hours of begging that just forced its way into her empty schedule.

"Come in..."

"Are you ready?" Grell skipped into her home, free of blood for a change.

She grimaced. "Look, I said no, and I mean it."

The reaper didn't look disappointed, but rather expectant. Without prompt he strode into her kitchen and took his place at her table. She slipped into her seat automatically. "I guess you finally grew a brain?"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," he stated firmly, causing her to blink in disbelief. "I know you're hiding for a reason. My excitement just got the better of me, is all."

Seir's mind blanked. Was he actually… apologizing?

"That speaking, you'll miss the show and all," he followed with a wink. "But I suppose your safety is all I can ask for."

A smile graced her lips - out of pride or relief, she didn't know herself - and any regret that Grell may have been harboring vanished in that instant. He didn't have many friends, despite always wanting to surround himself with exuberant personalities like himself. The majority of the Grim Reaper Society deemed him too eccentric, and the ones he worked with were too uptight to call friends. As wild as it was, he was glad that a demon was willing to fill in that space he seemed to carry with him.

Maybe he does have a thing for demons?

A sudden knock came at the door. Seir's eyes narrowed at the sound.

"Were you expecting anyone?"

Closing her eyes, she sensed it - a demon. Not one she's entirely acquainted with, but one she still recognizes.

"No."

"Then-"

The girl swung her body over the kitchen table and grabbed Grell's wrist just as the door burst open. In the entryway stood a tall, lanky man with long, pale green hair, blowing in the wind of his forceful kick. Horns curled around his pointed, elvish ears in an outward direction in the likeness of a ram. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his pants in a casual manner, the entirety of his posture lax and calm. Handsome features were painted in boredom as sanguine eyes landed on the pair.

"Finally," he groaned in a baritone voice.

She could hear Grell's breath hitch for a moment, but all she could feel was fear gripping her heart.

Run, her rational side whispered.

With superhuman strength, she swung her friend into the decorative window behind the table (to ensure his safety first, of course), and the glass shattered as he fell through with a yelp. Without a moment to lose she leapt after him, rolling in the sharp grass before pulling the reaper to his feet and making a mad dash anywhere that would get her away from him.

"Come on Seir…" she heard him mutter as she put as much distance between them as possible. "Don't make me chase you..."

She couldn't hear anything after that - they were too far. Past the bridge, onto the roofs and into the heart of London, she'd already put miles between them and her pursuer before landing atop what appeared to be a factory.

"Are all demons so attractive?!" Grell cried as he grabbed her shoulders in exasperation.

"Yes," she replied with a smile, tossing her hair dramatically over her shoulder to hide her quivering fingers. "Me being the hottest, of course."

"Honey," he snorted. "I'll say you're cute, not hot."

"Whatever. Anyway, I believe you just met Furfur." The mere mention of his name from her lips had her look to the direction they came from, anticipating his appearance. "I don't know him all too well, but all of the greater demons know the names of everyone else at the very least."

The reaper brushed off the stray shards of glass glittering on his clothes. "How powerful was he?"

"He's a Count of Hell. I'm a Prince, so I should have been able to take him easily."

"Why didn't you?"

A snort escaped her. "Too much work. Plus you can't really kill a demon by conventional means - they get sent back to Hell and reincarnate after a while." She rubbed her chin in thought. "Though I suppose your death scythe would have been sufficient. But the fact that he isn't pursuing us means he's most likely going to report back to Hell first."

"Well," her friend sung. "I guess you can't go back to your anti-social cave, huh?"

Seir whipped her head to glare at him, satisfied that her hair smacked his smug features. "You're the reason he found me! Visiting so often without caution, trailing in the scent of blood. I shouldn't have given you the key to my wards."

At her own reminder, she grabbed his wrist as he pouted. "Speaking of which…"

Pulling up his sleeve revealed an intricate, chaotic seal on the inside of his elbow. The Seal of Seir, which allowed him passage through her security wards, sight through her invisibility, and immunity from her spells greeted her with its familiar magical signature. She could also monitor his location and teleport to the seal if she ever bothered to. At this, she hesitated - despite costing her home, she was reminded of all of the good times the silly reaper had bestowed on her mundane life. Taking away the seal would mean losing her only way of effectively protecting her friend.

She jerked the sleeve back over his arm with a huff. "Nevermind, it's in working condition."

"Aww," he cooed. "Is someone worr-"

"It's working! Shut up!"

He rested his elbow on her head in victory. "Well, I can always protect you until you find another den, mother bear."

"As if you could protect me."

"I've gotten stronger!" he yelped, affronted. "You've got nowhere to go anyway!"

Grell stopped suddenly, thinking. Shit, he's using that defective brain of his…

"Why don't you at least meet my dear Sebby? After I finish my job, we can go anywhere you want and set up a new base!"

She did not need this.

"But aren't you part of the England branch?" Seir tried to deflect. "What makes you think your superiors will let you?"

He waved off her concern. "I've got plenty of vacation days, bunny. Plus, if you set up shop in another country, solves me barging in too often, eh?"

It didn't seem like he would relent anytime soon, and she didn't have any better ideas, she supposed. I'll just have to play this safe.

A smile of relief graced her features, and he grinned in turn. "That sounds great."

"Then we have a deal."

"No."

"Honey, you're going to have to blend in. I don't know what kind of styles you have down there but it ain't gonna fly up here."

The pair were lingering at the nearest tailor shop. The seamstress stood a little ways off, eyes glued to the girl's outlandish clothing as the two discussed what they needed done.

"I don't see what's wrong with it."

"It's ugly, dear."

"It's comfortable, doll."

Grell tossed the mortal woman an apologetic glance. "She doesn't know what she wants. Could you just take her measurements and we'll discuss it after?"

With a slow nod, she withdrew the tape from her apron pocket.

"Stand up, please," she murmured.

With a petulant pout, Seir crossed her arms, swinging her legs from the tall seat. "No."

Her companion dragged a tired hand down his face. "Then just let me do it and don't struggle."

She was about to protest again when Grell growled. The sight of his sharpened canines with the feral sound told her that yes, he was serious, and she sighed in acquiescence. From there, it was a half hour of the reaper struggling to keep her standing as she slumped against him, taking his offer literally and getting her measurements done while she threatened to fall to the ground in a heap without his support.

"You're such a baby," he groaned as he dropped her on the seat while he dumped himself on the waiting bench beside it.

Her only response was to stick her tongue out. If there's anything she learned from Mammon, it's how to be a child.

A voice called in from the back of the shop. "Sir, if you would like to tell me what you would like done…"

An evil smile suddenly blossomed on his face - the exact opposite of his defeated expression just a moment earlier. "Be right there." He pat her head, to which she swatted, before jumping up to meet the human girl.

She tried to stay up, really, but ended up dozing off. She supposed dresses took a while to make, but… wasn't he supposed to be at his job by now?

Grell shook her awake, impatient. "Come on, it's done!"

Her mind still laden with sleep, the reaper ended up having to dress her himself. Luckily, he had enough practice maneuvering her body like a doll earlier to do it efficiently, so when she came to, she found herself standing in front of a mirror, decked out in what had to be the flashiest dress she'd ever seen.

He had the widest grin on his face, and the seamstress herself seemed very impressed with her creation. "Well?"

There were way too many parts to keep track of. Her collar was separate from the main article and covered her entire collarbone in white, lined with black frills and a red cravat to adorn it. The chest itself was strapless to accentuate her breasts, which were often hidden under a baggy sweatshirt, with similar black ruffles lining the edge. The center of her corset was ebony, and the rest of the dress itself was scarlet and decorated in white lining. Separated sleeves were tied around her upper arms, puffing out at her wrists in a translucent white material. As per the craze in England, the fabric flounced outward below her waist in a bell-like fashion.

"The missy here made a hat to match!" Grell didn't need (or wait for) her permission to delicately place it on her head. Large, cumbersome, and decked out in both fake flowers and feathers, it threatened to topple her over. If she hadn't hidden her horns it may have actually remained in place. "How do you like it?"

"It's," she hesitated, looking for the right word. "...Red."

"Exactly! She gets it!"

"Where's my sweatshirt?"

"How much will it be?" Grell turned to the tailor, ignoring her.

The reaper stared at the woman unblinking with his signature smile as she told him the price.

"Righty-o. Bear, stay right here and I'll go get my employer." Without missing a beat, the reaper dashed out of the door. The bell that sounded echoed through the awkward silence as the seamstress and the demon stared at the entryway.

Impatiently, Seir crossed her arms and drummed her fingers. The human played with the measuring tape, refusing to look at her masterpiece.

After a full minute, she seemed to draw enough courage to break the stillness. "Er… where are you from?"

"...Why do you ask?" Seir looked down at the woman from the elevated flooring at the mirror.

"I've never seen clothing quite like yours."

"Ah." She scratched her cheek. "I'm… American."

"Really?" The mortal forgot her hesitance in her wonder.

"Yeah…"

"What's it like?! I've always wanted to get out of London."

Shit. "Uh… It's, big?"

The woman's confused look would never be answered. "Grell! Put me down!"

The reaper waltzed back in, carrying a pretty woman with short scarlet hair in his arms. Her dress, also red, flounced about as she struggled in the man's embrace. "Right now, or you'll get it!"

"Sorry Madam, we're here!"

With a huff, she managed to jump out of his arms. "I was busy, I'll have you know!"

She turned, eyes magnetically drawn to Seir's extravagant dress, then to her unnaturally gorgeous face, then to her sanguine irises. Her eyes narrowed.

"She's beautiful," she whispered to Grell, gazing at him with the obvious question.

"She," the reaper clarified, lifting his employer's hand to his lips with a sinister smile. "Is my friend, and will be helping us with your chores. I just need a favor." Turning to Seir, though, it melted into a giddy grin. "Meet Madame Red."

The demon nodded in acknowledgement, though the statement of her becoming an accomplice to his murder spree is news to her. Madame Red's eyes widened at his statement, understanding that she is no mere human, and nodded in turn.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," she stated in sudden reverence.

Grell beckoned the tailor over. "Now, how much was that price tag, dear?"

The seamstress meekly walked up to the noblewoman and murmured the price.

Madame Red's jaw dropped. Glancing at the dress that was about to burn a hole in her wallet, her hands shook. Hers wasn't even that expensive.

Gritting her teeth, she motioned for her butler to retrieve her purse. "This had better be worth it."

Author's Notes:

-To clarify, Seir is also known as Seire, Seere, or Sear in demonology.

-Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 have been revised.