Melissa felt her inner fire starting to burn.

  "Soul?!," she snorted mentally. "Another phrase like that, and I’ll show them what a real soul looks like on a ptter.”

  But the worst part was that Naomi clearly decided to stoke the fire.

  "Oh, Melissa it's our poor retive," Naomi said theatrically, with feigned sadness. "Her homend is so hot, a real furnace. The poor thing was suffering from boredom and the heat, so we took her in. Now she’s happy, working in the fresh air, and learning honest bor."

  "My goodness, how noble!" one of the grandmothers excimed.

  Melissa sat there, her hands clenched so she wouldn't lose it. Her face was burning, as if fmes were bursting from inside.

  "I’m not poor! That’s a lie!" Melissa raged mentally. "I was the queen of Hell! And stop looking at me with pity, you old hags!"

  "You’re just an angel, dear," another grandmother added. "We’ll definitely gather something for you: clothes, food, maybe some vitamins."

  When the grandmothers finally left, Melissa closed the door behind them and, slowly turning to Naomi, said:

  "Before people sacrificed a hundred virgins to me. Now they pn to bring me old socks. Progress, my mistress, is evident."

  Naomi just ughed, leaving her alone with her own frustration.

  After the neighbors left, the house finally fell silent. Melissa was ready to savor this rare moment of peace and gather her nerves after the humiliation she endured. But the door smmed again, and the silence vanished like smoke.

  “They’re back,” Melissa sighed quietly, hearing the stomping of feet and cheerful chatter.

  It was Danny and his friends, the eternal noisemakers Melissa privately referred to as “young mortals without brakes.” She stood in the corner of the living room, methodically watering the flowers, when she overheard their conversation.

  “We need one more pyer!” one of the boys excimed.

  “Yeah, or the boss will crush us all like cockroaches!” another voice chimed in.

  Melissa perked up, catching a glimpse of the kids huddled around a table with some cards, dice, and a pile of handmade props. Danny was wearing a wizard’s robe, the neighbor boy with an innocent smile—and a clear knack for trouble—wore a red mask resembling a fantasy rogue, while their friend in a bard’s costume barely kept up with her frantic note-taking on parchment.

  “Let’s invite someone!” Danny suggested, gncing around thoughtfully.

  Sensing danger, Melissa tried to slip away quietly. But, of course, her heels betrayed her: the cck of her shoes on the parquet floor sounded like a fanfare.

  “Melissa!” Danny shouted joyfully, immediately running up to her. “Py with us!”

  “Oh, how touching,” she said sarcastically, turning to face him. “I’ve always dreamed of spending my evening on children’s games.”

  “Please!” Danny grabbed her hand, his puppy-dog eyes pleading with her. “We really need another pyer!”

  Melissa cursed internally, not just like a demoness but like a very exhausted demoness:

  “Heels—an invention of the most cunning devil. But kids with their puppy eyes? That’s torture of the heavenly kind. Damnation.”

  “Fine,” she finally said, raising her chin high. “But only because I’m bored.”

  The children seated her at the gaming table. Around her stood makeshift decorations; the boys had a hand-drawn map of dungeons, and the girl held a notebook filled with detailed enemy descriptions.

  “You’ll be the warrior of light!” Danny announced enthusiastically.

  Melissa froze.

  “Excuse me, what?”

  “A warrior of light,” Danny repeated, draping something like a white cloak with paper wings over her shoulders. “You help the weak, never lie, and fight demons!”

  That was too much. Melissa wanted to protest but looked at Danny and his friends. They were all waiting for her answer with such excitement that refusing was impossible.

  She gnced at her new “costume”—a white robe with crookedly attached wings.

  “If my brother Dormammu saw me right now, he’d ugh until the Second Coming,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?” Danny asked.

  “I said I’m thrilled to join your team,” she replied sweetly, injecting as much sarcasm as she could muster. But the kids still took it as enthusiasm.

  “Great!” they shouted in unison.

  The game began. Melissa, as expected, couldn’t help but comment.

  “So, my character is supposed to rescue this hapless vilger?” she asked, looking at a token on the map. “And turn down the reward? Oh, what a life.”

  “But it’s important for the mission!” the “rogue” expined.

  “Of course, how could it not be,” she replied, spinning a cardboard sword in her hand. “Helping the weak and helpless. Demons in hell must be rolling with ughter right now.”

  The children didn’t notice her sarcasm and continued pying. To her surprise, Melissa started to enjoy herself. She even liked rolling the dice, though pying for the “good” side still felt insulting.

  “All right,” she said at some point. “But if I’m not allowed to summon a fire dragon in the next round, I’m out.”

  “We don’t have dragons,” Danny expined.

  “What a shame,” she sighed. “Real magic is gone, leaving us with nothing but games.”

  Yet, deep down, she almost enjoyed it. Almost.

  At exactly 4:00 PM, as if by an internal clock, Melissa rose elegantly from the table, nodded curtly at the children, and walked out of the living room with grandeur. Her mission was complete: she had pyed several rounds and even saved a few poor vilgers.

  “If anyone asks what I’ve been doing,” she muttered to herself, “I’ll deny everything.”

  Next on her agenda: picking up Barbara from soccer practice.

  /////

  Writer notes:

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