A Demon's Devotion

If Beatrice had to pick Lucy Augustine's most frightening trait, it would be her silence.

It was a strange thing, the way it infiltrated the air: innocuous, at first, until its cold fingers brushed your cheek, like a chilly wind on a summer day. There was always a chance it was nothing, a fleeting bout of unseasonable ill-temper. But more often than not, it heralded an end to the days of sun, and a coming harvest for the unsuspecting herd. The question was: upon whom would the blade fall this time?

It was this thought that forced Beatrice to lower her fork, her cafeteria lunch suddenly less appetizing now that she sensed the shifting weather. Alissa obviously noticed it too: her green eyes were wide and alert behind her fake glasses, her gaze darting between Beatrice, Lucy, and their other two companions. For their part, Teresa and Suzi seemed just as oblivious as ever: the former was still twirling a strand of poppy-red hair around her finger, speculating about a passing couple's virginity while her bouncy, busty audience giggled. Didn't they recognize the ice in their leader's eyes? Couldn't they feel the frigid quiet enshrouding their table? A part of Beatrice wanted to say something, to risk drawing Lucy's ire, if only to shatter the awful tension. But that wasn't the way things were done. When the golden-haired goddess of Helgrove High wished to speak, she would.

"We need a new slave," Lucy finally stated, glaring at her phone screen.

Teresa stopped mid-joke, sharing a panicked look with Suzi before the latter asked: "Uh, whaddya mean?"

"You know what I mean. A slave. A gopher. An errand boy. Whatever you want to call it."

"Oh, like Peter," Alissa suggested.

"Not anymore." The tyrant's tiny nostrils flared. "I had to wait a whole hour for him to pick me up on Saturday. That's strike three. So he's out."

"Awwww," Suzi pouted. "I liked him. He always brought the good granola bars to swim practice."

"So when you say he's 'out,' do you mean like 'out-out?'" Teresa asked excitedly. "Like, all the way?"

"That was our arrangement," Lucy nodded, setting her phone down with a sigh. "Those disgusting drawings of his should be circulating any minute now. Maybe that'll teach him to stop being such a flake."

"A furry flake," Suzi giggled. "No wait, a flakey furry!"

"Gross," Alissa grimaced. "I swear this school's perv infestation gets worse every year."

"Totally," Beatrice agreed, even she struggled to maintain her smile. This wasn't her first time witnessing a wayward pawn's punishment, but it still twisted her stomach to think about. Peter's only crimes were being a little too infatuated with Lucy, and a little too careless sharing his...artistic pursuits. Did that really warrant being shackled to her whims under threat of social crucifixion? Probably not. But, Beatrice reminded herself, that was just the way the world worked. Either you inserted yourself among the strong, or withered helplessly with the weak. Her own experience had taught her as much.

"So, wait." The slightest furrow appeared on Suzi's smooth brow. "Does this mean no one's gonna do our trig homework anymore? 'Cause there is no way I can do it. Triangles are, like, the worst."

Lucy arched an elegant eyebrow. "That's why I said we need a replacement. Weren't you listening?"

"R-right. Duh. I just meant, like, we should hurry up and find one or whatever, right?"

Lucy smiled, in that way that Beatrice always suspected was condescending, but could never say for sure. "Don't worry," the blonde said. "I already have the target lined up. I just need Bea to pull the trigger."

Beatrice blinked. "Me?"

"Interesting," Alissa's eyes narrowed. "Someone with a She-Hulk fetish, perhaps?"

Beatrice scowled. "Shut up. I told you not to call me that."

"I'm only teasing. You know I love your tree-trunk legs. I'm sure tons of guys would love to get crushed between them." The bespectacled pixie giggled.

Lucy smirked. "Alissa's jealousy aside, she's not wrong. In fact, I know of one poor simp who'd be a perfect target for you."

"Really?" Beatrice frowned. "Who?"

Lucy tilted her head forward. "See for yourself."

Beatrice glanced over her shoulder, and found herself meeting the hooded gaze of a tall, frail-looking boy seated two tables down. Instantly, his dark pupils flicked away, his unruly black hair hiding his expression as he became transfixed by his lunch tray. But the charade hadn't fooled anyone, and Beatrice felt herself turn scarlet as her friends burst out laughing.

There was no denying it: Levi Ehrlich had been staring at her.

"Oh no," Alissa cackled. "Oh Bea, I'm so, so sorry."

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Teresa howled. "He was all: hrrmmmgh."

"No no no no," Suzi insisted. "It was more like: harmmhhnn."

"Hnnngghh."

"Hrrarrnnmmh."

The laughter resumed anew. Beatrice turned away with a scoff, only to be frozen by Lucy's expectant eyes. "Well?" the blonde prompted.

Beatrice swallowed. "Wh-what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Nothing the rest of us haven't done before. Just give him a little of what he wants, and then use that to get us what we need. If you're not feeling creative, just say you're gonna jerk him off or whatever, and snap a pic of him with his junk out. If he doesn't agree to help us out, we threaten to leak the goods. Easy."

"Exactly," Alissa chimed in. "And if memory serves, you two have the same English class, don't you? So the approach should be a piece of cake, right?"

Beatrice hesitated, unable to resist another look at her proposed victim. Fortunately, the girls' attention had apparently spooked him: his scarecrow frame was already nearing the doors, his ragged backpack bouncing as he stormed away without a second glance. For some reason, this filled Beatrice with relief, though the effect was short-lived.

"Does it have to be him?" she whined as she turned back to the table.

"What's the problem?" Lucy asked innocently. "He's the perfect target. He gets good grades but lacks social skills, has a car but no job or after-school activities, and even though everyone knows who he is, I'm pretty sure he's never made a single friend here."

"But he's so...creepy," Beatrice protested. "What if he ends up, like, kidnapping me or something?"

"That won't happen. If he tries anything weird, just say the word and he's dead. You know I won't let anyone take advantage of my friends."

Teresa nodded in agreement. "Lucy's right. Jokes aside, we've got your back, Bea."

"Besides," Alissa snickered, "if worse comes to worse, I'm pretty sure you could snap him like a twig. No offense."

Beatrice shot her a fresh glare, but let the dig slide with a sigh. "I dunno. I've never done this kinda thing before. Are you sure one of you wouldn't—" The rest of her excuse vanished as Lucy's hand rested on hers. It was always surprising, just how gentle the golden girl's touch could be.

"Bea," she murmured. "Have some confidence in yourself. You're a certified badass—everyone in the school knows it. You're smart, gorgeous, and probably one of the strongest people I've ever met. You're destined to have everything you want—all you have to do is find the courage to take it. Do you think you can do that? For me? For us?"

Beatrice nodded, lost for a moment in the benevolent glimmer of her friend's sapphire eyes. "S-sure. Yeah. No problem."

Lucy smiled, her hand withdrawing like a sunset. "I knew I could count on you," she said. "Don't worry, it'll be easy. That creep won't know what hit him."

* * * * *

That was all well and good in theory. But the practice was another matter entirely.

Beatrice shifted uneasily against the desk, trying not to mind the curious glances as her peers trickled into the classroom. Even though Levi hadn't arrived yet, everyone knew the corner seat was his domain, the perfect spot for a gloomy weirdo to roost. So it must've seemed strange for the socially ascendant Beatrice to stake it out before class. She tried on a subtle smirk, hoping a hint of irony would deflect any unseemly rumors from spreading. Of course, Lucy always insisted that the strong needn't mind the chatter of the weak, a maxim Alissa, Teresa, and even Suzi all followed with ease. But it was different for them—Beatrice was still new to this whole "popular girl" shtick.

And none of it had come easy.

She shifted again, using a yawn to cover for the fact that she hadn't settled on a pose just yet. To some degree, she knew she was attractive. Her ample, shapely curves, vibrant, chestnut hair, and pretty, unblemished face had earned her plenty of hungry leers and jealous stares over the years, though it hadn't always been that way. Up through middle school, she'd been the awkward, gangly type, her legs too long, her shoulders too broad, and her eyebrows too prominent to earn more than passing glances or cruel jokes from her classmates. But toward the end of her freshman year, she'd suddenly "gotten hot" as her friends had put it, her body reshaping itself into something she was no longer comfortable controlling.

That didn't spare her from the consequences though. No sooner had sophomore year started than her social compass spun off its axis, her ability to navigate crowds and cliques completely shot. Forbidden realms suddenly opened with welcoming smiles, meanwhile familiar territories became increasingly tense and strained. Her mere presence seemed cause for comment and controversy, and she could practically keep time by the number of stares caught throughout the day. It was intoxicating, infuriating, and had almost driven her insane. It was thanks to Lucy that junior year hadn't ended in an asylum.

But, of course, help always came with a price. And now it was time to pay up.

At last, Beatrice glimpsed the top of Levi's head above the crowd, and she quickly changed her smug smile into what she hoped was an inviting grin. Not that it mattered: for all her pains, all she got was one surprised look from her target, before he immediately shifted course and sat at an empty desk across the room.

So that was how it was going to be. Beatrice exhaled, and resisted the urge to mirror Levi's glower as she approached him.

"Hey..." she said, trying to match the lilting tone that always got Lucy what she wanted. "It's Levi, right?"

Despite her gentle approach, Levi tensed as though she'd flashed a knife. "That is my name," he uttered, his voice surprisingly deep for his waifish body. "What of it?"

Beatrice covered her irritation with an awkward laugh. "W-well, I just realized we've had a buncha classes together, but I don't think we've ever really spoken. And, to be honest with you," she glanced away, affecting her expression with a hint of shyness. "I...have a favor I wanted to ask you."

Levi likewise averted his eyes, though they remained fixed forward as he spoke. "In all the courses we've shared, you've never let more than an unlucky glance pass between us. But the minute you want something from me, you don't hesitate to make it known. All the while behaving as though it were you gracing me with your indulgence. How flattering."

"W-well, I'm sorry if that's what you think," Beatrice deflected. "But I'm not trying to offend you or anything, I just...I really need your help, okay?"

"And why would I offer it? Do you think me so basic as to believe an attractive smile would be enough to ensnare me?"

Beatrice flexed her hands. No wonder this asshole didn't have any friends: they'd hardly spoken a minute and already she felt like throttling him. "To be honest, I haven't thought much of you," she replied, unable hold back the anger searing her throat. "But I figured you would be chill enough to at least hear a girl out before you bite her head off. Or do you think choosing to be obnoxious makes it cool somehow?" She grit her teeth. "You know what. Forget it. I'll find someone el—"

"Wait." For a brief moment, Beatrice swore she saw a flash of regret in his eyes, right before their inky placidity returned. "My apologies. You may tell me what you wish."

Beatrice hesitated, hurriedly reassembling the plan she had discarded only a moment ago. "Um. It's...I'm having a lot of trouble with our poetry project. I've written maybe three of the five, and I'm supposed to present at the end of the week. So...since you did such a good job on yours, I was hoping...y'know..."

"I would complete your work for you?"

Beatrice flipped her hair and laughed. "Well, if you're offering, I won't say no." Levi's expression darkened. "B-but actually I was thinking more that, I dunno, maybe you could come over and just, y'know, help me workshop some things? It'd be great to have someone to bounce lines off of, especially since we're supposed to read them out loud and everything."

"Yes, I'm aware," Levi grunted, crossing his arms. Again, Beatrice had the burning desire to wring his scrawny neck, but it was easier to resist this time. She could tell the offer of a personal study session was one he couldn't easily pass up. Which meant it was time to move in for the kill.

"So...what do you think?" she asked, leaning over the desk so her breasts were practically dangling in his face. No man could resist her low-cut pink top and push-up bra combo, and it seemed Levi was no exception. He stared at her swaying cleavage for a full second before looking away, a satisfying blush adding some vitality to his sharp cheeks.

"You'd be doing me a huge favor," Beatrice pressed. "Both of my parents are gone on business, so there's no one else to help me. And I'm really, really desperate..."

"V-very well," Levi uttered. "Now would you please sit down? Our instructor will arrive any moment."

"Sure thing, Levi." Beatrice rose and headed back to the empty desk, making sure to throw one last smile over her shoulder. "Anything for you."

Levi looked like he was choking on his own breath. Beatrice took her seat and resumed the posture of an innocent student, even as she glowed with wicked triumph inside. Once again, Lucy had been proven right: everything Beatrice wanted was within her grasp.

Now she just needed to take it.

* * * * *

Beatrice paced around the kitchen, her hazy reflection flitting across the spotless countertops. Despite being large enough to feed a family of ten, the space was pretty much a pit-stop for pre-packaged meals these days. Of course, Beatrice's parents still paid to have the floors and appliances scrubbed weekly, and never hesitated to scold their daughter for any crumbs or wrappers she left out in the open. Not that she could blame them: after all, she knew all too well the importance of appearances. Still, on lonely nights like this, she couldn't escape the feeling that she was a tiny bug trapped in an immaculate dollhouse, scuttling beneath the shadow of its massive owner.

It probably didn't help that Levi was taking forever to arrive.

Beatrice glanced at her phone, debating whether to send another text or not. It probably wouldn't do much good: her target was infuriatingly hard to get a hold of, and seemed to only reply to messages when the mood struck him. Which was rare, apparently, despite her flirtatious efforts.

She had to be patient, Beatrice reminded herself. She wasn't a confused little girl lost in her parent's house; she was an adult in her own home, a lioness waiting in her den. Even if Levi's brusque manners had caught her off-guard, she was still in control. He was nothing, a pathetic loner who pretended to be above everyone else even as he wallowed in the social gutter. She, on the other hand, actually had status, actually had power, and actually knew how to use it. There was nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. This was nature at work.

She just really wished it wasn't taking so goddamn long.

The ringing doorbell almost caused Beatrice to slip. She quickly recomposed herself, and took her time as she moved towards the front door, pausing for one last checkup in the hall mirror. As usual, she was in perfect form: she had retained the inviting pink top from earlier, but had ditched the bra and traded in her jeans for a pair of soft, yet snug shorts, the kind that rode the line between casual loungewear and slutty, thigh-hugging tease. She doubted Levi had ever seen a girl like this, much less been invited to spend the evening with one. If the eighteen-year-old edgelord was sharper, he might've realized the opportunity was too good to be true. Alas, he would have to learn the hard way. Such was life, Beatrice told herself.

"Heeeey Levi!" she called, swinging open the door with an easy grin. "Glad you could make it. I've been sitting around all night and I'm, like, super bored." She shifted restlessly on the balls of her feet, illustrating her point while also putting a little bounce into her chest.

Levi seemed to get the message. "I-I'm only here because you need my help," he insisted, not even appearing to convince himself. "This isn't a playdate, or whatever your kind calls it."

Playdate? Her kind? Woof. The stench of his pretension only got worse outside of school. "Of course," Beatrice nodded, her smile unwavering. "But that doesn't mean we still can't enjoy it. Poetry's supposed to be fun, right?"

"In a sense..." he admitted, his body radiating tension as he moved past her. It was strange: once he was inside, his focus quickly shifted from Beatrice to her surroundings, his eyes scrutinizing every corner as though wary of what may lay around it.

"Relax," his host said, wary now that her scheme may have been compromised. "I know it might seem like I'm messing around, but I really am grateful for your help, and I'll do my best to honor it. Can I get you something to drink? I'm gonna make myself a vodka tonic, if you're interested."

"That won't be necessary."

"Well, I'll make an extra anyway, in case you change your mind later. After a few sips, my mixology skills kinda go out the window."

"Do you often bartend while your parents are absent?"

"Why, you gonna narc on me?" That came out with more edge than intended. She laughed to compensate. "I'm kidding. Sometimes the girls and I will have a drink or two to relax, but we never go super hard on weekdays. Though I'm not against it, so long as everyone promises to behave..."

Levi finally paused his surveying, long enough for Beatrice to capture his gaze. There was something ominous behind those dark orbs of his, but she forced herself to hold eye contact as she sauntered over, drinks clinking in her hands.

"Don't worry." She offered a glass. "I can tell you're one of the good ones. You'd never do anything to hurt me, right?"

Levi made a sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt, receiving his cocktail with an iron grip. Beatrice rose her own glass to her lips, and felt his gaze around her neck as she titled her head back for a long, luxurious sip. God, he was so thirsty for her. It was almost painful. Then again, there was also something thrilling about it, something that made her stomach flutter when she met his eyes again. Maybe the alcohol was already kicking in.

"W-we should probably get to work," Levi muttered.

Beatrice allowed herself a mischievous smile. "Whatever you say, Levi. I'm at your service."

Aha. There it was. He was trying to hide it, but Beatrice noticed the erection straining his jeans as he shuffled towards the den. So he liked it when she acted doting and submissive, huh? It figured—guys like him always ended up having the most twisted fantasies. The things he probably dreamed of doing to her at night...ugh! Beatrice took another drink, her face strangely hot all of a sudden.

Fortunately, Levi seemed determined not to notice. He sat at the far end of the couch and began flipping through the pages Beatrice had left out, not even looking up as she settled one cushion apart from him. Sitting right beside her target would've been too obvious, but she still made sure to sprawl luxuriously in her seat, her bare legs stretched less than a foot away from him, her torso nestled into the crook of the sofa, daring him to corner her. As if he had the guts.