The beige expanse of Holdspace trembled and Jo gripped the cracked desk phone as the void around her began to flicker, like a bad Zoom call with hell itself.

“Please hold while we verify managerial credentials,” Sharon’s voice droned, stretching and duplicating like a skipping record.

“This is why people quit customer service,” Jo groaned.

*

On the other side of the summoning circle, Clorvex cleared his throat and straightened his imaginary tie. “I’ll have you know I am Regional Summoning Manager for District Thirteen of the Lower Bureau. My clipboard is laminated.”

“That’s true,” Jeff whispered nervously, pointing to his slides. “They never argue with lamination.”

Mira chanted under her breath, weaving hibiscus steam into a tether, while Matteo cranked the espresso machine until it roared like an overcaffeinated dragon.

The Queen of the Hollow Moon lounged on a barstool and sipped something that glowed faintly radioactive. “This is either going to save her or explode spectacularly. Either way, I’m entertained.”

*

In Holdspace, Jo’s desk phone burst into flames and reformed instantly into a headset that clamped itself onto her skull.

“Verification in progress,” Sharon announced. “Please answer the following questions. What is your demon intern’s quarterly soul quota? How many sacrifices per fiscal cycle are considered acceptable losses? Please define abyss versus void in less than one hundred words.”

“I don’t even do my own taxes, and you want a pop quiz?” Jo sighed. She yanked at the headset, but it clamped itself tighter. Static hissed in her ears, then Clorvex’s voice cut through like a jaded consultant.

“Quota is undefined due to budget constraints. Acceptable losses are as many as can fit under the rug. Abyss equals staring, void equals screaming. Next question, please.”

The entire Holdspace shuddered.

Sharon gasped. “Oh. Oh, wow. Those were correct.”

Jo’s desk melted into an endless spiral of cubicles, each with demons on phones, all turning their heads at once.

One pointed at Jo.

Another whispered, “Escalation to Management…”

The cubicles snapped shut like trapdoors.

Jo shrieked, clutching her mug. “Clorvex, I swear if this ends in paperwork I’m haunting your mop!”

The tether Mira had woven shimmered into Jo’s line of sight. It was a glowing thread of purple steam curling through the beige and she grabbed it.

The headset screeched. “Unauthorized exit attempt! Please remain summoned!”

Jo yanked harder and behind her, the cubicles started marching.

*

Back in Cedar Grove, Clorvex bared his fangs. “Everyone pull!”

They pulled on the hibiscus tether as espresso shot across the floor.

The Queen cackled.

Jeff screamed, “This is not compliant with Section 404-B!”

The circle blazed and with a violent pop, Jo tumbled out of Holdspace, headset smoking and landing squarely in Matteo’s arms.

Everyone stared.

Jo coughed. “Never. Put me. On hold. Again.”