Harmony Café’s playlist was usually eclectic, a little jazz, a little indie folk, the occasional haunted lullaby if The Froth got bored but this morning, it was different.

It was cursed.

Literally.

An off-key pan flute looped through speakers no one had installed, layered over distant elevator chimes and a voice that purred, “Your torment is important to us. Please remain in the summoning circle.”

Jo slammed the espresso wand shut. “Tell me this isn’t the café’s sound system.”

“It’s not,” Mira said grimly. “It’s the Infernal Services hold channel. Someone must have called them back.”

All eyes turned to Jeff.

The demon intern froze mid sip of his double shot. “Okay, yes, technically I might have re-opened the service ticket to dispute the audit fees.”

“What audit fees?” Matteo asked.

Jeff flipped through his clipboard. “They’re charging us for excessive pentagram glitter and emotional overtime. That’s unfair labor practice!”

“Jeff,” Jo said slowly, “you brought hell’s HR department back into my café.”

The voice on the speakers changed, “Press nine to escalate this complaint to Eternal Torment. Press eight to downgrade to Mild Inconvenience. Press six if you’re calling about a screaming abyss.”

The Queen of the Hollow Moon appeared in the doorway, eyeliner flawless and holding a cappuccino the size of a toddler. “Press nine. Always press nine. It gets you past the reception demons.”

Mira’s teacup trembled. “We’re not pressing nine.”

Unfortunately, Clorvex was already pressing nine on a conjured keypad.

A chime sounded, the lights flickered red, and the espresso machine hissed out a puff of brimstone.

From the middle of the café, the air split open like bad milk.

A tall, shadowy figure stepped through, wearing a headset and the expression of someone who’d been on back-to-back calls for the last six centuries.

“Hi,” they said in a monotone. “I’m your new escalation specialist. How can I ruin your day?”