The gentle crackle of the fireplace nearly lulled Wheeler to sleep as he lay on his brand new bed, his arms and legs spread out across it starfish style.

It was a cozy little room. A large patchwork quilt had been laid out which rested beneath a round stained glass window, depicting a butterfly mid flight.

“Jeez, what a day,” Wheeler murmured, his face pressed against the large, feather pillow.

Mister Pumpernickel let out a little croak of agreement.

Mulock, still a cat, stretched himself out, letting out a mew of a yawn. “You can say that again, kid. I can’t wait to sleep.”

Wheeler rolled over on his side to look at him. “Hey…did that groundskeeper seem kinda weird to you?”

“He’s a groundskeeper, they’re all weird.”

“But why did he say that cryptic stuff about things being too good to be true? And on top of that there was that conversation between the headmistress and Professor Slengeborn. I just feel so weirded out by it all.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know...maybe I’m just overthinking…”

“As long as the academy trains you properly then who cares,” Mulock said with a shrug. “You’ve got a damn demon watching out for you.”

Mister Pumpernickel let out a loud croak.

“Oh shut up,” Mulock snapped, shooting the toad a sharp glare. “It doesn’t matter that he has you too. You’re a toad. What the hell are you going to do? Croak someone to death?”

Mister Pumpernickel let out an angry hiss, beginning to hop up and down.

“Are you trying to threaten me,” Mulock scoffed. “I’m a literal demon from hell. The only thing scary about you is how ugly your little face is. I could eat you.”

That’s when Mister Pumpernickel suddenly sprung forward, latching onto Mulock’s head. “Oh you have got to be kidding me!” He attempted to shake him off but his efforts were to no avail. “Wheeler,” Mulock snapped, “get your stupid toad off me!”

“He’s just upset. You hurt his feelings,” Wheeler pointed out. “Maybe if you apologize he’ll get off.”

“But he started it!”

The toad croaked in protest.

“Great,” Mulock muttered. “And now I’m arguing with a toad.” He let out a heavy sigh, trudging to the end of the bed with Mister Pumpernickel still clinging to his head. “When I pictured my life as a demon this was most certainly not what I imagined.”

“What exactly did you imagine then?”

“Well, way more murder. That’s for sure,” the demon grumbled.

“Speaking of,” Wheeler said slowly. “Can I make a request? Y'know, since I’m your master--”

“You’re not my master,” Mulock cut in. “Please never phrase it like that again.”

“But aren’t you supposed to be servicing me--”

“Again. Phrasing. Kid, you need to be way more aware of it.”

Wheeler sighed heavily. “I’d just like to ask that in any upcoming plans we have no more child murder involved, attempted or otherwise.”

“I mean...okay, I guess. But I’m telling you now, they're way easier to kill--”

“No,” Wheeler interrupted. “We’re not killing anyone. That’s what I’m trying to get across. No more murder.”

“No more murder?” Mulock repeated slowly. “But...why?”

“Because it's wrong,” Wheeler said. “I feel like that should be kinda obvious.”

“So is sampling grapes at the market before you buy them, but everyone still does it.” Mulock argued.

“I feel like those things are on two very different levels.”

Mulock let out a huff, curling up at the end of the bed. “Uuugh, alright fine. You win. No more murder.” The demon smirked. “At least for now...” Wheeler cast Mulock a pointed glance to which the demon simply shrugged. “What? You might change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“But you might,” the demon urged.

Mister Pumpernickel croaked loudly.

“Oh for the love of...would you stay out of this?” Mulock hissed.

Wheeler opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a little yawn which he quickly tried to stifle.

“We can keep arguing about murder some other time,” Mulock said, his voice softening slightly. “You’ve had quite the day and your classes start tomorrow. To make you the most powerful witch alive we need to keep you properly rested.”

Wheeler chuckled, wriggling under the massive quilt. “I guess you’re right.” He cast Mulock a small smile, only his head sticking up from beneath the covers. “In that case...goodnight, Mully.”

“Night, kid,” the demon murmured.

“Goodnight, Mister Pumpernickel.”

The toad let out a little croak, still nestled on top of Mulock’s head.

And with that the exhausted boy, demon, and toad all drifted off to sleep.