Saint Vanity (mxm)

Chapter Two

"Turn the music up."

A soul turns up my stereo loud enough that Panic at the Disco blasts through the house. It's the politest way I could think of waking Helgi up, so he adheres to my 9 am start rule. Honestly, I don't see why he sleeps in this late. I've already had my morning run, did yoga, and ate breakfast, and I've only been awake for three hours.

The only thing killing my vibe is Marvin, who currently dictates the makeup and costuming crew on how to make me look.

"There's a streak there. Fix it. Now," he snaps his fingers at the poor souls who have to put up with his bitching. Zoning out into my happy place while sitting in a lounge chair in the centre of my living room, souls tend to me, doing my nails, fiddling with my hair and doing my makeup.

He then walks back, checking me out from different angles, his fingers simulating a camera. Every season he becomes obsessed with the next optimal look for me to attract potential customers, hook them to the brand, promote a greedy lifestyle so Dinero's workers can feed off that energy.

He decided on is a modern take on 'King Midas', who was a Greek king whose touch could turn anything to gold. I'm convinced he's void of any creativity.

Shaking the staircase with every stomp, Helgi storms down the staircase. Judging by his unruly mane of dark hair and how he only wears boxers, he didn't get much sleep. My bet is he stayed up for hours listing all the reasons why he hates his life. Luckily for him, he'll be too busy to mope about his life today.

"Is it necessary to have the music turned up so loud?" he asks after drawing a deep breath, only to pause when he actually sees us. He blinks a few times, takes his glasses off to clean them, then puts them back on.

"Wait... are you a male or a female?" he asks, staring at us as though he stepped into the twilight zone.

"I'm superior to you in mind, body and soul no matter which I am. Besides, what I identify as is the least of your worries," I point out, glancing at Mavin who now watches Helgi with gleaming fangs.

"Oh, this one smells of misery," Mavin murmurs, running his eyes over his body like he's eying a high-quality meal.

Helgi wrinkles his nose at the sight of him.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Demons feed off misery and rage like dessert," I explain.

"His soul smells as sweet as a freshly baked cake."

Helgi gives him a deadpan stare and a deep eye roll. I arch a brow, expecting him to be somewhat wary. Mavin is a thousand-year-old demon who's been in the business of torturing human souls. Either he's unaware of this or he has some serious balls.

Mavin's eyes narrow, insulted and tempted to get up and tear him to shreds.

"In all fairness, he is showing the adequate amount of fear you can show towards a guy called 'Mavin,'" I drawl, earning a dirty look, "Try something like 'Destruction,' 'Typhoon', or like, even a name like 'Karl' could be creepy if used in the right context."

"You only remember my name when you're insulting me."

"Insult? The only one who is being rude is you. Honestly, do I go to your house and eye your steaks?"

Helgi twitches at being compared to a steak then gives up on the music, rubbing his head on his way to the kitchen. He stumbles and clutches the bench, squinting at the pool décor on the floor, like it's too realistic for him. To avoid crinkling the makeup, I try not to smirk.