Retirement--Day 6...continued

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Lucifer departed my kitchen in an implosion of brightness and the scent of struck matches with the assurance that he would take care of the problem involving Cinnamon and her owner. I topped off my coffee mug and stared out the window at the front lawn. I'd already installed a new tenant to the stake that Cinnamon had violated.

 

Anastasia floated into the room, a sunny smile on her face. She refilled her coffee mug, pulled out her creamer, and dumped a healthy helping of it into her mug. Happily humming, she took a sip of her coffee and immediately spit it out into the sink.

 

"Son of a bitch!" she shouted, scrambling for a paper towel to wipe her mouth. "He didn't have to change the flavor of the whole bottle! Or he could have at least changed it back before he left!"

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She dumped the rest of the bottle down the sink before joining me, empty handed, at the window. 

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"He's the devil for a reason, my dear," I told her as she pouted beside me. 

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"It needs something," Anastasia said, gaze settling on the lawn.

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I slipped my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side. She leaned her head against me, fitting snugly beneath my shoulder. As tiresome as Anastasia could be at times, I loved the woman. In my violent past life, I'd learned just how hard loyalty was to come by.

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"I am not fond of how undefended it is," I mused aloud. "Already the enemy assails our borders. I informed the appropriate authorities of the incursion and they were inclined to do nothing." I scowled, mustache bristling.

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Before I resided in Hell, I'd spent much of my time when not on campaign in castles--or their dungeons. These wide open spaces without walls to guard property and precious people struck me as foolhardy at best. But how best to enclose it?

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When I was alive, I'd used disloyal nobles to dig my trenches and build my walls. They'd died, of course, but at least they'd been useful while doing so. I had none of that here. 

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"A moat," Anastasia said, her tone brooking no disagreement. "It needs a moat."

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"A moat implies battlements," I warned, though I agreed with her assessment. "And you have an unfortunate history with those." I pressed my lips to the top of her head so she wouldn't take offense at the reminder of my infidelity.

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"Keep your sword in its proper sheath and we will have no problems, my lord." The steel in her voice was unmistakable. 

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"As my lady demands," I said, already thinking about how to go about building the walls and digging the trenches. Perhaps if I declared war on a neighboring subdivision and using the vanquished as labor?

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"Fetch me a map," I ordered, my gaze never lifting from the flock of fake flamingos.