POV Trace 

"A horrible, fantastic good night, Bob." Trace happily greeted the street Vendor who was starting his night. It was too early for any other working demon, but Bob's profession demanded the early hour. Butchers in Hell were like Bakers; one started early. 
"An atrocious good night, Trace." The Vendor greeted back, waving his beefy, scarred hand at him. The giant ghoul was a great example of his race's strength. He was muscled, at least two meters tall, with ashen skin and a white-lipped mouth with a vicious line of carnivore teeth.
 Furthermore, he was the local butcher, mainly using an ax-like knife.
It's a curious but fitting combination.
"What can I do for you today?" Bob asked, and Trace pointed at a few slices of the best Bob had and were not human remains. 
"Wrap me up two of those wonderful pork belly pieces, but would you cut them a bit smaller? It's for Cheshire, some nice mouth-sized pieces." He ordered, and Bob nodded, taking out his knife, and cut the meat into bite-sized cat snacks. His hands do the precise work with routine and surprising gentleness. Trace always suspected Bob learned his skills from the last war due to the soft and gentle touch he used when handling his goods. 
Trace glanced behind Bob and had to keep his mind from vomiting for a second. Behind the butcher hung a few human corpses from the torture chambers of Hell to bleed out. The blood was gathered into a tub and given to the local vampire charity for poor vamps. Of course, he knew this was hell, but the sight was still....startling even after all this time. Lucifer, his friend, made a rule long ago that only a few butchers could sell the meat. It was cheap, and the Blood Collection aided the Vamps greatly, mainly since their population had grown due to a human side book, which was, it appeared, very popular among the newcomers.
Bob was one of the few vendors permitted to sell that meat and blood. Nothing better than a few Sinners' meats finely marinated when it came to dinnertime, he always said; this was one of the few things Trace, on the contrary, had never been able to get used to after nearly a millennium in Hell. 
"That cat demon of yours must be the most spoiled thing in the entirety of Down Under," Bob said with amusement in his voice and handed in a few extra pieces for the cat daemon.
 "Give the beast some pats from me."
"I will, until in a few days, then." Trace smiled at Bob, paid, took the wrapped meat, and shoved it into his bag beside the bread. Then, with a small prayer to Satan, he passed under the next ladder for bad luck and then walked down the streets, greeting many of the known faces belonging to the usual vendors as they started to prepare for their business nights. The day clubs, street side, were, on the contrary, about to close down, and some of them gave Trace a long look. One of them even, quite boldly, handed him a business card. 
An invitation for fun if he ever was in the mood for some fun and a good magic replenishment. 
As an Incubus, he was already a welcome guest in all the clubs, but as Trace the Incubus. He would secure their business for the rest of the year if he so much stepped into their club. 
Behind him, Bob prayed a small prayer, noticing he had just been well cheated. Trace had fooled him out of his seven coins of silver by only handing him five and two fakes. It's a well-done but slight cheat. That always marked the beginning of a horrible, good day. Walking past a back alley, he spotted a she-demon that looked like she had all the fun, while some poor another daemon, he pitied the male already, humped her leg. That succubus was out to pump her magic and not to give away for both and make it a good time. He took a small sip, a greeting and warning both. He did not need to end up scraping a sexed-up stupid daemon from the ground, and one never wasted an excellent sweaty time if they could help it. He was an Incubus, after all. Walking through the market, other demons made their way; most in the small city knew him by looks and prestige, and none wanted trouble. 
Whistling a creepy tune, he walked the cobblestone paved street and continued greeting the typical workers who stood by on the street sides. Many were Incubi or Succubi of low rank, but in-between were also curious and exotic mixes. Here and there, a ghost floated around, hurrying on his way. Finally, he stepped aside to let a minotaur caravan leader through, who stalked past him with half a dozen tortured human souls in tow, carrying some goods on their backs. 
Waving his hand after finishing his morning round, he teleported himself home. To his adobe, well more of a Villa, sprawling in front of him. Even when cheated, a healer and watch guard like him earned more than well. The place was also distinctively un-demonic. A demon had once called it a beauty. Which meant, in other words, it was a horror in the forests. Well, he cared little; he liked the large and open window fronts and the dark but beautiful forest, the many even weaker animals that gathered and sought shelter in his garden, the blooming and flowing in all colors roses that climbed up both his house and the statues made by famous former artists turned tortured souls.
The grass was filled with flowers, and an odd rabbit's ear peeked out of the lush green. His small kingdom also included an inner yard unseen from the outside with a grotto pool whose water shone in the brightest turquoise when the sun was standing right. Pretty and human as an homage to his former human self. 
Snipping his fingers, his groceries went automatically to the kitchen, and he smiled as he bent his knees and stoked his demonic kitten—Cheshire, named after the Alice in Wonderlands Cheshire Cat, causing it to purr in delight.
Glossy, long black fur and with bejeweled, almost haunting dark blue midnight eyes, he was a beauty. And knew it. His kind was proud of their beauty, and Chesh was among the prettiest, meowing and showing off his sapphire-adorned necklace.

Despite his ability to turn human, Cheshire preferred his cat form and stayed as Trace's pet. A position that was unusual as it was prestigious for a cat demon. 

Purring, Cheshire snuggled against Trace and then licked his hands. He had scented the meat his master had gotten him. 

Cat demons before maturity were weak, while good at hiding their fur is a well-verifying accessory. So most Cat demons picked up a master, a powerful demon whose pet they became until they were mature. 
Once maturity was reached, they left their masters behind. 
Chesh was of average power and took the same course as many. He chose a Master or Mistress to whom he was considered property until his day to demonize and become an adult, just that he stayed even after becoming an Adult staying with Trace. 

Now, that was considered eccentric. 

Trace had never seen his human form nor forced Cheshire into showing it to him. He had no hurry to coax the demon into doing so. One day, he would see Chesh, and if he were just as beautiful as a human, he would undoubtedly enjoy it. He had been waiting for that for a long time, after all. They continued to live at each other's side like nothing had changed, but someday...he was nothing if not patient. Until then, he would spoil the kitten.

"Mhh, I love you too," Trace muttered as Chesh stoked his legs, purring loudly. But, before waking off into Traces' rose garden, stopping in his tracks. Tail rose in attention and meowing surprise. 

Trace, hearing so, turned on his heels and walked to his cat. Who used his paw to point at the issue in front of them. Gasping, Trace agreed with Chesh...that was unexpected, his poor porch; he would have to ask for a deep cleaning to get that off it. 

"Lucy, this is unfunny," Trace muttered; how else would that end up on his goddamn porch. He was probably the only one who would not kill it on

 sight. "Lucifer! Boss! Lucy!" he shouted, a summon intended for his friend, so he knew the demon King would hear it. Nothing came as a response.
Usually, this was something his friend reacted to within seconds. Trace was rarely angry or called him at all without giving a reason. 
But nothing; the air was still and Lucifer out of sight.  

He waited a bit more, feeling his anger grow a tad. 
Chesh started purring to calm him down. Well, talk about Bad Luck. Talk about an excellent start to this day. He picked the kitten up, his fingers running through its silky fur.

"Why, heavens forbid, is there an Angel on my Porch?" He muttered, a bit desperate since anger would do him no good after all, and looked at Chesh. 
Chesh purred harder, pressing his small furry self against Trace and giving the Angel a stinky eye before moving up to Trace's shoulder and taking a seat. 

"I know...we should kill him, but...balance... I wouldn't say I like this. Tell me, Chesh, is Lucy kidding with me." 
No answer came from Chesh, who purred even harder. Right into his ear. 

" I guessed so."