"All this is yours?" Marcella asked incredulously.
They stood on the hillside overlooking a picturesque vineyard in the heart of Napa Valley. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. The sun was out, but the temperatures weren't sweltering; that would come later in the summer.
"Yup," he shrugged. When he was given the property by Azorak and Innariel, Shawn never dreamed that he'd have to learn all about the bureaucracy of running his own small business. But once he settled in, he found the vineyard to be lucrative. "It was my uncle's and when he died, I bought out my dad and my cousin."
It made for a good cover story, and for some reason, no one ever questioned his explanation, not even his mother.
"So you went up to your eyeballs in debt to get a film degree, and now you own a winery?" his former roommate taunted.
"I took on more debt to finance becoming the sole owner," he added. While technically true, at least on paper, he owed a lot of people a lot of money. But in reality, Shawn had no real skin in the game. The vineyard came with staff that ran itself and was profitable. He only showed up at social events with a handshake and a smile. He was just familiar enough with the books to sound knowledgeable, even though a team of accountants did most of the actual financial work. "Let me show you around."
He led Marcella around the property, starting with the restaurant and the winery. Shawn introduced her to Victoria, the general manager of the vineyard, and Joshua, the Chief Operating Officer of the company. Both shared the responsibility of running the business.
In reality, Joshua was a thrall of Lord Azorak, and Victoria was an acolyte of the Celestials. Their partnership was one of grudging cooperation, ordered by their masters, in compliance with the judgment of the Arbiter. They reported to Shawn only for purposes of managing the business, but for the most part, he left them alone.
The vineyard had several dozen employees, none of whom had any inkling about the nature of their bosses. As far as they knew, Shawn was a young college-kid who inherited the winery from his uncle and was learning the ropes, but everyone knew Victoria and Joshua were in charge.
Aside from the buildings which were devoted to making and bottling the wine, there was another building which housed a restaurant and the retail side of the business. On the weekends, live bands played on the patio. The executive chef had trained at Michelin starred restaurants, and like many of the vineyards in Napa Valley, they had become an up and coming destination of sorts for locals and tourists alike. There were plans to build a larger event hall for weddings, corporate parties and the like.
From his house on a hill overlooking the vineyard, Shawn lived a quiet, mostly peaceful life. He tried his best to learn about wine-making and pitched in where he could. Since he didn't have any responsibility of actual consequence, he became known around the vineyard for helping out the hosts at the restaurant, sweeping floors in the gift shop and even washing dishes when he was needed, but otherwise let the people who were hired to do a job actually do their jobs.
The house itself was a good-sized Tuscan style villa. The ceilings were extra high. There was a fully-appointed kitchen with double refrigerators and a walk-in pantry. A heavy oak table sat opposite the island, which was ringed by sturdy chairs to support Shawn's many guests.
Shawn displayed Sintorax's lamp prominently in the large sunroom just off the back door to the house, which was shielded from anyone looking up at his residence from the winery. A magical rune was inlaid among the tile, which glowed when in use. His extraplanar visitors used that as their landing spot when they portaled in and out. Shawn kept a cabinet and fridge in the sunroom stocked with grab-n-go bags as well as fresh fruit and a variety of breads and cheeses in case he had a visitor when he was gone or sleeping so they wouldn't disturb him.
Often, he would wake in the morning and find half of the food gone, and with a slight chuckle, he'd replace it for the next night, should he have visitors again.
To their credit, the Infernal never appeared if he had guests, or at least while they were awake. His streak of unusual luck continued, and many times Shawn found a trinket or token left on the patio. Sometimes, it might be a bouquet of flowers. Other times, it might be some exotic food from around the world. It was never money, although some of the items certainly had monetary value if he ever chose to sell them, but he never did, for fear of insulting the giver.
Of course, no one other than Victoria and Joshua knew Shawn's secret. They never came to his residence, nor did either of them ever try to befriend him other than as work colleagues. In any other setting, they might have tried to kill one another at the prompting of their masters.
"This is all you do now?" Marcella asked as they walked back towards the main building, somewhat envious of the life her friend had made since graduation.
"Pretty much," he shrugged.
"Can I ask you for a favor?"
"Sure, what's up?"
His friend hemmed and hawed for a second. "You remember Kayah?"
"Yeah, you went backpacking across Europe with her, right?"
Marcella smiled sheepishly. "We're getting married!"
"Congratulations!" Shawn gave her a hug. Of course, he had noticed the ring on her hand, but didn't say anything until she had broken the news herself. "Do you have a venue? If not, you can get married here."
"I was going to ask that next . . ."
"Of course!" he said. "I insist. We do weddings here all the time. I'll get with Victoria and make all the arrangements."
"Just let me know what I owe you," Marcella said sheepishly.
"That's for the business side," Shawn started doing the math in his head. Weddings weren't inexpensive, and everyone knew it. "We won't charge you to use the vineyard, and I'll make sure they give you the event rate for food and staff, not the jacked-up wedding rates. I'll take care of you."
His former roommate looked relieved. Arm in arm, they continued their walk around the property like old friends.
***********
"How serious are you and this new girl . . . what's her name? Annabelle?" the lizard-like devil asked, biting into the Steak-umm which was fresh out of the microwave.
Shawn only shrugged.
"She's been over like three times in the last two weeks," the other devil pointed out. It had a thick carapace over its body, and pincers for hands.
"How do you know that?"
"We have very sensitive olfactory organs," Kongorat—the lizard—said. "Each of you mortals has a very distinct smell."
"That's kind of creepy," Shawn said.
"You know we'd never intrude in your personal space," the devil replied defensively.
"I'm just kidding you." The microwave
dinged!
again. Shawn got the Tupperware container out and handed it to Ssid, the six-foot tall praying mantis. "I made it with pepperjack this time to give it a little extra zing."
"Everyone loves your mac and cheese!" Ssid took the container, eschewing a fork or utensil.
"It's my mom's recipe," Shawn replied modestly.
"So how serious are you with the girl?" Kongorat pressed.
"A little, I guess," he said, genuinely not sure about his feelings for his sometimes-companion.
Over the past few months, he found out a couple of things about the devils.
First, they loved human food, even simple things like sandwiches and typical deli sides. Especially if it was home-cooked.
Second, once it was decreed that Shawn's house and the vineyard were a Sanctuary Zone and that he was not to be harmed or tempted/bargained into a Pact, they opened up to him about the humdrums of life as an extra-planar resident of the Hells. Each had a personality of its own, and they liked to gossip. A lot.
In many ways, Shawn became a kind of bartender or amateur therapist. Most of the time, he just listened. Usually it was someone blowing off steam about a co-worker. Sometimes, it was to complain about the angels and the War. Other times, they actually came to him seeking relationship advice.
They knew they could trust Shawn because as much as they might gossip to him, he never shared anything one of the devils might say about another. He became, either through fear or necessity, a trusted confidante.
They also told him stories. Some entertaining. Some horrifying. But usually it was the mundanity of lives that might be decades or centuries long.
Most of the time, his visitors were low and mid-rank officers or bureaucrats. On occasion, someone like General Zaela might come by, and Lord Azorak himself usually stopped in once a month or so. The more powerful devils seldom stayed long, and were often very quiet, although they always treated Shawn with respect and courtesy.
It was the foot soldiers who were the most friendly and entertaining. Mostly it was because they didn't have anyone beneath them to micromanage or abuse, so if they were given the reward of a visit to Shawn's late night snack shop, they took advantage of his hospitality for just a little while to get away from their lives of servitude to someone bigger, stronger or nastier, and they were always very grateful to their host.
"You should—"
Ssid was caught off guard by the portal in the sunroom activating. There was a flash of light and a dimensional gate opened. Both of his guests took a defensive posture.
A winged humanoid being stepped through, and then the portal closed.
No one moved or spoke for a moment.
The devils regarded the Celestial cautiously. The tall angel stared at them for a second before removing its helm to reveal unblemished, ivory skin. The head was shaved bald and it had androgynous features. It wore no armour. Carried no weapons. Runes and sigils adorned the simple robes.
Crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps, the Celestial bowed to Shawn. The devils looked on, more curious than nervous.
"Good evening, Shawn Argabrite," the Celestial said, in a kind, melodic voice. "I am Noraek, Angel of Light. I heard I might get a midnight snack here."
Shawn smiled nervously. The devils watched on curiously. Neither expected any trouble out of the angel; the house was a Sanctuary Zone, after all. But nor did they turn their back on the new arrival.
With practised efficiency, Shawn began making a sandwich, stopping only to ask if the angel would like lunch meat or a vegetarian plate.
"No preference," Noraek replied with a deferential nod.
"You need to try Shawn's interdimensionally-famous mac and cheese," Ssid chimed in.
"It's my mother's recipe," Shawn said with a smirk.
There was an awkward silence as he finished the sandwich and heated up some mac and cheese.
The angel accepted the offered plate with a grateful bow. "Thank you, Shawn Argabrite."
Then it turned, walked back to the portal and disappeared.
***********
Devils come in all shapes and sizes. Shawn got to know many of them by name. Some were grotesque. Some were perversions of animals. Some were otherworldly and alien in appearance. Some could almost pass for human.
But he had never seen one like the devil who appeared in his living room late one night.
She looked like a beautiful woman. She wore no clothes to cover up her voluptuous figure. He estimated she was close to seven feet tall, and perfectly proportioned.
