With a deep sigh I close the empty document. For hours the white light has been haunting my mind, begging me to write something. Anything. But nothing came out.

I hear a small cackle behind me. I turn my chair  and see Pipaluk there, caressing the back of my authors edition of my book. The first ones came in a week ago, ready for release any moment.

"The deal was not exactly what you expected, isn't it?". Their menacing grin is wide, almost splitting their face in half, and their teeth bared.

"Of course not!" I exasparate, turning back to my desk, "How do they expect me to promote my book and be halfway done writing my next one? I am not Stephen King who writes practically a chapter a day!"

I hear the little clacks of Pipaluk's feet on the ground, meaning they're moving. Not soon after two hands start massaging my shoulders.

"Don't fret so much about it. There are times you've written 1500 words within an hour".

Their breath tickles my neck as he starts whispering in my ear.
"But you know that was not the deal I was talking about". The sulfuric smell makes me cough.

"I have nothing to comment on that one".

I glance quickly at the time. In an hour I have an Q&A in a local bookstore. Making the release official.  If I leave now and walk, I can get to clear my head just in time.

"I need to go. See you after dinner".

"You think you can go without me?".

I immediatly turn to them.

"Look at you! You'll cause a scene! They'll know!"

Pipaluk snaps their fingers, and fire cover them before revealing a new form, a human form.

I hesitate.

"If you behave, you can come. But I need a moment alone beforehand. Please let me have that at least".

Pipaluk simply nods.

"I'll see you there".

*
*
*
The bookstore is filled to the brim with books. And half of them seem to be the same one. 'Court Love is no Jest'. At the top, the author name is written in a neat, thin font. Elizabeth Millard. My name.

I smile, my hand going over the cover.  The three people in loving embrace, two royally looking at the side, one in jesters clothing in the middle with a mask, revealing the slightest hint of a monstrous appearance. They represent my characters.

"You ready?" Asks my manager. She seems more stressed than me. I nod, and take place behind a table. The microphone in front of me is adjusted in height, gets a quick soundcheck. And then the door opens.

More people than I dared to dream showed up. I see Pipaluk sneak in in the back, leaning against a shelve of books.

And then the questions start. I managed to anticipate most of them, so I didn't need to think too hard about formulating an answer.

"There have been rumours you have a muse. How much to that rumour is true?".

I can't help but sneak a glace at Pipaluk in the back, smiling encouringly, holding two thumbs up.

"It is true to some degree" I then answer, "A friend of mine is a great inspiration, getting into all kinds of shenanigans. To me, they filled the role of the protagonist. I am very thankful for that friend. They have been encouringly me since the beginning, helping me write and listening to my troubles. I owe that friend so much, more then I'll ever be able to give back".

A murmer of whispers fills the bookshop. But soon more questions follow. At four, my manager ends the Q&A, but I remain seated to sign some  books. All buyers are so friendly, and it warms my heart.

At the end of the line, is Pipaluk, also holding a copy of my book.

"Can your best friend also get a signed version?".

I laugh sarcastically.

"I've signed enough for you. Besides, I am the one who is paying for that copy instead of you, you parasite".

"Oh hush, you love me".

Reluctantly, I sign the copy. And shove it back to them.

When everybody leaves, my manager and I talk for a bit. I am not paying attention. My mind is already home. Taking a warm bath, and then curled up in a blanket on the couch watching  a series.

But my manager rambles on and on. And then she invites me for dinner. I can't decline, unfortunately. And so I stay out way longer than planned.

"Sorry," I finally say as the waiter is about to refill my drink. "My cat is home alone so I must really get going now. Thank you, for everything".
Before she can even react, I practically flee home.

I don't have a cat. Although Pipaluk could almost qualify as one, since all they do is live rent free in my home.

I close the door quietly. Pipaluk is asleep on the couch, tv still blaring some vague show. The blanket has fallen on the ground. When I pick it up, it reveals the pentagram burned into my floor. I tuck Pipaluk in, and then withdraw to my own bedroom.

They were right. Our deal was not what I expected. It is so much better, and I would not change it for the world.