“Checkmate.” The demon said, moving his bishop right by your king piece.

That voice belonged to your employer’s son: Lucian. As one of the many princes of Hell, he was as spoiled as any other. He was more unusual than the others as well—chasing around his servants pretending he was going to devour them. Your torment was his enjoyment—and his games were even worse. Winning was just impossible.

“I was hoping that your lack of beauty could be made up with intelligence. It seems not.” He chortled.