Dance With The Devil's Download

"Chen Mei's shop is ten minutes away. You've waited centuries for a dancer, you can wait ten more minutes." She stood, surprised by her own boldness. "Besides, you owe me for that terrible app interface."

A moment passed, then he laughed—a real laugh this time, not the practiced charm he'd been using. "Very well. Shall we take my car or would you prefer something more dramatic? A portal of shadows, perhaps? Hellfire teleportation?"

"Is there surge pricing on demon Uber?" When he actually pulled out a phone to check, she grabbed her jacket. "I'm kidding. Let's walk. I need the time to practice my 'you sold your soul and didn't tell me?' speech."

The walk to Chen Mei's shop was surreal—her, in her practice clothes and worn jacket, him in his perfect suit, strolling past late-night food stalls and confused pedestrians. Every time their shoulders brushed, static electricity crackled between them, making her wonder if all demons carried storms beneath their skin.

The neon sign of "Witch Please: Magical Curiosities & Cafe" buzzed ahead, its pink glow cutting through the night.

Chen Mei was closing up shop when they walked in, the bell above the door chiming cheerfully. She looked up, smile freezing when she saw Yunxin's expression.

"An app?" Yunxin demanded, holding up her phone. "Really? 'What's the worst that could happen?' How about my best friend already sold her soul and didn't even warn me?"

"I mean, technically I did warn you," Chen Mei said weakly. "The review clearly stated 'worth your immortal soul'—" She yelped as Yunxin crossed the space between them in two quick steps.

But instead of the slap Chen Mei was clearly expecting, Yunxin pulled her into a fierce hug. "You absolute idiot," she muttered into her friend's shoulder. "We could have gone into supernatural debt together."

Chen Mei hugged her back just as tightly. "I wanted to tell you. But it was in the contract—no direct revelations." She pulled back, glancing nervously at the devil, who was examining a shelf of "Authentic Cursed Objects (Now Child-Safe!)". "Besides, I knew you'd figure it out. You always do."

"Your friend's contract specifically allowed for this goodbye," he called over, picking up a crystal ball and frowning at its price tag. "Though we should wrap it up. Hell's real estate market waits for no demon."

"He's actually not that bad once you get used to him," Chen Mei whispered. "Just... don't let him near your Spotify playlist. His music taste is stuck in the 80s. Like, the 1780s."

Yunxin laughed wetly, realizing she was crying. "I'm going to miss you."

"Miss me? Please." Chen Mei wiped her own eyes, smudging her perfect eyeliner. "I have a thriving business in the supernatural community. You think I'm not going to visit my best friend who's about to become Hell's hottest choreographer?" She grinned. "Someone has to keep you updated on all the mortal realm gossip."

"Ladies," the devil called, now somehow holding a cursed teddy bear. "Not to rush the touching farewell, but if we don't leave soon, we'll hit rush hour traffic on the River Styx."

"That's a thing?"

"Oh honey," Chen Mei patted her arm. "Wait until you see the DMV down there. Where did you think they got the idea?"

One final hug, tight enough to hurt, and then Yunxin stepped back. "Take care of yourself, witch."

"You too, dancer." Chen Mei's smile was wobbly but bright. "Show them how it's done."

The devil set down the teddy bear (which somehow looked relieved) and offered Yunxin his arm. "Ready, Miss Song?" His voice had dropped to that velvet-dark tone that seemed to bypass her ears and speak directly to her spine.

She took one last look at her friend, at the weird little shop with its mix of authentic and tourist-trap magic, at the mortal world she was leaving behind. Then she took his arm, surprised to find it solid and warm, a current of something ancient and thrilling running beneath his skin where they touched.

"Ready. But I'm serious about that bubble tea."

The night air shifted as they stepped out of Chen Mei's shop, becoming thick and charged like the moments before a storm. The neon signs along the street began to blur and fade, their familiar glow replaced by something older, deeper—like starlight filtered through centuries of darkness. His hand moved to the small of her back, steadying her as reality rippled around them, and she tried to ignore how perfectly it fit there.

"First class or economy?" he asked, pulling a sleek business card from his pocket. The text on it seemed to move, ancient symbols swimming beneath modern typography. His fingers danced over the card's surface with a grace that made her wonder what kind of dances they had in Hell.

"There's class distinction in supernatural travel?" Yunxin raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep her voice steady as the air between them grew heavy with possibility. "Let me guess—economy means traditional hellfire, first class is air-conditioned hellfire?"

"Actually, economy involves significantly more screaming." He flipped the card between his fingers, and it began to glow. When he looked at her, his eyes held centuries of midnight performances and forbidden encores. "But given your future status as our premier performer, I think we can upgrade you."

The card's glow intensified, spreading out in elegant crimson lines that drew themselves into a doorway of light. Through it, Yunxin could see... a lobby? It looked like the kind of place that would serve champagne while making you feel bad about your shoes. The kind of place where demons and dancers might forget the boundaries between performance and reality.

"The Infernal Grand," he said, noting her expression, stepping close enough that she could smell exotic spices and ancient magic on his breath. "Hell's finest hotel and performance venue. Your new home, at least until we find you a more permanent residence. Though I should warn you—" He paused, looking almost uncomfortable, which somehow made him more appealing. "The interior decorator was particularly fascinated by Chinoiserie. Though their interpretation is... creative. Think imperial palace meets European fantasy of imperial palace, with a dash of infernal flair."

"So it's tacky?"

"Magnificently so." His smile returned, sharp and promising. "Though I thought you might appreciate the nine-dragon walls and the eternal phoenix fountains. They're quite spectacular when they're aflame."

Yunxin squared her shoulders, years of performance preparation settling into her bones. Another stage, another audience—just with higher stakes and, apparently, questionable interior design. And a dance partner who moved like sin itself.

"One more thing," she said, stepping toward the doorway. Through it, she could see red lacquered pillars stretching impossibly high and golden clouds that actually moved across painted ceilings. "When you say 'Hell's finest hotel,' does that mean—"

"Room service is included, yes." His hand found the small of her back again, and this time she let herself lean into the touch. "The tea house alone spans three dimensions."

"Then let's go." She strode through the portal, head high, dancer's grace in every step, aware of his gaze following her movement with centuries of appreciation. "I have a performance to prepare for, and I'm going to need at least three jade dragon pearl teas to deal with whatever a demon's idea of Chinoiserie turns out to be."

The last thing she heard before the mortal world faded away completely was his laughter, surprisingly warm and intimate, following her into whatever waited ahead. The portal closed behind them with a sound like a very expensive door being shut on her old life, and Song Yunxin—dancer, soul-seller, and apparently Hell's newest star—stepped forward into her encore performance.

And this time, the stage was literally on fire, jade dragons coiling through the flames, but she suspected the real danger would be the way her new patron watched her dance, as if he'd waited centuries just to find her.