The Devil's lease

Chapter seven: Proximity Clause

The room was so quiet, Caleb could hear the hum of the cursed pizza box vibrating like it was waiting for someone to open it again. He sat on the edge of his bed, palms sweating, eyes flicking between Lena and Dev like he was caught between a firing squad and a stand-up act.

Lena had her arms crossed, eyebrows locked in their most terrifying formation — the one that meant she wasn’t just angry, she was disappointed.

“Thirty days,” she repeated, voice flat. “You signed something that gave you thirty days before—what? Before you’re dragged screaming into eternal damnation?”

Caleb winced. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds—”

“Dumb?” she snapped.

“… yeah.”

Dev stirred his latte with a plastic straw like they weren’t having the world’s worst intervention. “Technically, it’s thirty calendar days. Business days would’ve been generous. Hell’s not big on federal holidays.”

Lena’s glare snapped to him. “You knew? You’ve been stringing him along like some kind of—”

“Handler,” Dev cut in smoothly. “It’s my job title. Think of me like… the world’s least patient life coach.”

“More like death coach,” Caleb muttered.

“Cute,” Dev said.

Lena stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Dev’s chest. “Explain. Now. And don’t start with your usual sarcasm, or I’ll make you eat that tie.”

Dev looked down at her finger, then at Caleb. “She’s feisty. I like her. Keep her around.”

Caleb groaned. “She’s my neighbor, not a pet.”

That set Lena off. “Neighbor is right! And that’s what I want to know. If you’ve basically turned this whole place into a portal for Hell, why am I still here? Why hasn’t my bathroom grown tentacles? Why hasn’t my lease started glowing in blood at midnight?”

She said it like she’d been half-expecting it, which, to be fair, was reasonable at this point.

Dev sighed like a teacher explaining basic math to a child. He straightened his tie and leaned against the wall, eyes glinting.

“Okay, sweetheart, here’s the deal. Hell doesn’t own this apartment building. It owns his lease.” Dev pointed at Caleb. “One unit. One name. That’s how contracts work.”

Caleb frowned. “So Lena’s safe?”

“Safe-ish.” Dev smirked. “Her lease is boring old mortal paperwork. Rent checks, late fees, mold in the shower — the works. No bonus, no curses, just the thrill of earthly capitalism.”

Lena blinked. “So I’m… just normal? Still paying rent, still broke, still fighting with the landlord about hot water—”

“Exactly,” Dev said. “Meanwhile, Caleb gets bonus.” He nodded toward the humming pizza box on the nightstand.

Caleb lifted his hand like a kid in class. “Correction: bonus with side effects. That thing tried to start a conversation in my esophagus.”

“Fine print,” Dev said casually. “You signed it.”

Lena’s face softened just a fraction, her eyes darting between the cursed box and Caleb. “So let me get this straight. You’re trapped in some blood-signed soul lease, and I just… live next door. Nothing changed for me?”

“Well,” Dev said with a wolfish grin, “not nothing. You share a wall with a condemned soul. That means you get… exposure.”

Lena’s jaw tightened. “Exposure?”

“Proximity clause,” Dev explained. “Hell energy bleeds through walls. You’ll notice the fridge humming at night, the lights flickering, maybe the occasional shadow that doesn’t belong to either of you. But don’t worry — you’re not signed in. You’re Switzerland. Annoying, neutral, unclaimed.”

Lena let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Great. So my life isn’t cursed… it’s just haunted by association.”

“Pretty much,” Dev said.

Caleb looked at her, guilt gnawing at his chest. “Lena, I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into this. I thought—”

“You thought you were just getting cheap rent,” she cut him off, voice sharp but shaking. “And now you’ve tied us both to this circus.”

Dev clapped his hands once. “Excellent. Group therapy over. Now, Caleb, about your orientation—”

“Orientation?” Lena snapped.

Dev smirked. “Training. We don’t just throw lambs to the slaughter. Well, not always. He needs to start with little errands, learn how to ‘spot vulnerabilities.’ Baby steps before he’s ready for the soul-hunting big leagues.”

Caleb groaned. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m cut out for evil homework.”

“You’ll adjust,” Dev said.

Lena crossed her arms again. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dev said with mock sweetness, “you don’t.”

---

The night stretched long. Caleb sat slumped on the couch, Lena perched in the armchair like a watchdog, Dev sprawled on the rug flipping through the cursed black notebook he’d tossed at Caleb earlier. The pizza box still hummed faintly in the bedroom, like it was pouting that no one wanted it.

Caleb rubbed his temples. “So what, I’m just supposed to… stalk people and write down their weaknesses? That’s literally villain behavior.”

“It’s research,” Dev said. “You’re not damning anyone yet. Just observing.”

Lena snorted. “Observing? That’s the same excuse creeps use when they get caught staring.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said, pointing at her.

Dev smirked. “Fine. Call it ‘field notes.’ Baby’s first homework assignment.”

“I’m not doing it,” Caleb said firmly.

“You don’t have a choice,” Dev said just as firmly.

Lena slammed her notebook onto the table. “Actually, he does. Because he’s not alone in this. You think I’m just going to sit back while you groom my best friend into a soul salesman?”

Caleb glanced between them nervously. “Uh, guys—”

“Best friend?” Dev raised a brow. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” Lena barked.

Caleb shrank back into the couch. “Okay, so, new plan: no fighting in the living room. I can’t afford to replace furniture.”

“Don’t worry,” Dev said dryly. “The furniture’s technically Hell’s now too.”

Lena groaned.

---

By morning, Caleb hadn’t slept a wink. Shadows carved trenches under his eyes, his brain felt like wet cement, and his tongue tasted like he’d been licking batteries all night.

Dragging himself into the kitchen, he froze.

Lena was already there — perched at his counter with her laptop open, typing furiously like she owned the place.

Caleb blinked. “How—? When did you—?”

Without looking up, she said, “You gave me a spare key, remember? After you locked yourself out three times last month? You’re welcome.”

Dev, who was somehow making espresso like it was his kitchen now, smirked. “She’s a handy neighbor. You should keep her.”

Caleb groaned, collapsing into a chair. “Or change the locks.”

“Don’t bother,” Lena muttered, eyes glued to her laptop. “I’d just climb through the window. Anyway, I’m working.”

Caleb rubbed his temples. “On what? It’s seven in the morning.”

“Research,” Lena said. “If Hell’s got loopholes, I’ll find them. Every contract has a crack. Even cursed ones.”

Dev blew on his espresso. “Good luck. Our lawyers have more degrees than your G****e search bar.”

She shot him a look that could curdle milk. “Watch me.”

Caleb’s stomach growled, but he side-eyed the pizza box still humming faintly on the counter. “Nope. Not today. I’d rather starve than eat demon Domino’s again.”

“Suit yourself,” Dev said, sipping his coffee with smug elegance.

Lena finally looked up, eyes sharp. “We’ll figure this out, Caleb. I don’t care how many loopholes I have to dig through — you are not losing your soul to rent control.”

Caleb felt something shift inside him at her words, something solid that cut through the exhaustion and panic. He gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, Lena.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said grimly, snapping her laptop shut. “We’ve got twenty-nine days left.”

Dev clapped Caleb on the back hard enough to make him choke. “Plenty of time! Unless you waste it whining.”

Caleb glared. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” Dev said with a grin sharp enough to cut glass, “are mine.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Caleb’s stomach twisted. Lena’s hands clenched into fists.

The clock was ticking.

And the walls between their apartments — between Hell and normal life — were getting thinner every second.