I poured the cream in the Dark Lord’s latte. I was told to make it dark as a corpse’s soul, and sweet as the honey of a million deceased honeybees. Whatever the hell that meant.

The demon lackey grunted when I handed him the latte, and tossed a penny in the tip jar.

“Thanks,” I said with the most insincere politeness I could muster.

“Is that sarcasm I detect?” Said the demon.

“There’s a line forming, so if you don’t mind…”

The demon was having none of it. He slammed the latte on the floor, growling deeply.

I glanced at the fallen cup of splattered latte. “You’re going to have to tidy that up.”

“You’re dead, barista boy…”

I laughed inwardly. Little did he know my covert secret. But I didn’t want to lose my job by revealing my side hustle.

The demon jumped up on the counter, and kicked his black clawed foot at my face.

“Ok then, I guess this is happening,” I said. I grabbed his support leg, and tripped him to the floor.

He hit the tiled ground with a loud thud, cracking his skull. I reached into my boot, where my demon-slaying dagger was concealed.

I held the knife to his black throat, told him to freeze. He didn’t listen. He grabbed my face with his claws, puncturing my cheek. Big mistake, freakshow….

I slammed the dagger into his hand, and he screeched. “Where did you get that weapon? You’re a damned rat!”

“No,” I said, lunging the dagger at his dark heart, shoving it to the hilt. “I’m a damned demon hunter.”

I wiped the green goo off the dagger on his raggy clothing, and stepped over his corpse. The Dark Lord would not be receiving his beverage today. And he would never receive it from me ever again…

I threw my apron to the floor and strode out the front door, into the cold morning air…

Because now and forever…

I quit.