Page 10 of Higher Demon

As I stareat the classroom door, I wonder again if I was really so bad in my younger years that I deserve to be punished with this. And then I hate myself for thinking “younger days” when I’m only twenty-seven. These still are my younger days, dammit!

I kick the door in frustration, then hold my breath and hope nobody heard it and comes to investigate. The longer I can put off going in there, the better.

“Is kicking the door a human custom I know nothing about?”

Briefly closing my eyes, I sigh. Of course he had to see that… and comment on it in his snotty, I’m-better-than-you voice. I turn toward him with a bright smile pinned to my face.

“Yep! One day we can kick back with a beer and I’ll tell you all about it.”

He sneers, just like I knew he would, and echoes, “Beer.”

“You like beer,” I point out. I’ve seen him drink it multiple times and been subjected to a lecture on the best way to brew hops or whatever the fuck they do. I don’t know; I just drink it.

“Not the beer you drink.”

That’s fair. He’s a snob when it comes to beer just like with everything else.

Speaking of snobbery…

“Nice outfit.” I sound a lot more surprised than I intended to, but honestly, I didn’t think our conversation last week would be enough to get him out of his suits. I must have said something right, though, because he’s wearing slacks and a shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, no tie or jacket. Even “dressed down,” he still manages to look classier than I could ever hope to.

“Thank you.” His pained expression warns me not to harp on his clothes.

“Ready for class?” I put lots of pep in my voice as I change the subject. The fact that he’s going to be there is the only reason I dragged myself back here instead of having a meltdown.

He looks toward the door I just kicked with absolutely no enthusiasm on his face. “Can’t wait.”

A laugh bursts from me. “I’ll buy you a drink after,” I promise recklessly. “And as long as there’s no maiming, I don’t care how much you yell.”

“Oh, goodie.” He sweeps an arm out. “After you.”

Bracing myself, weirdly comforted by the knowledge that he’s right behind me, I open the door and face down my nemeses. AKA fifteen seventeen- and eighteen-year-old kids.

Who all ignore me completely.

I forgot that they do this. Maybe Marc and I can just sit quietly for the next hour, then go for that drink without ever having to attempt teaching.

Grabbing the extra chair that’s always hovering at the side of the room, I put it behind the teacher’s table and sink into the one that was already there. “Make yourself comfortable,” I say softly.

He eyes the chair as though it might have a communicable disease, then gracefully folds himself into it. “Why are you being so quiet?”

“Maybe if we don’t get their attention, they won’t notice us.” My voice is barely above a whisper, and in hindsight, that’s my fatal mistake.

A hush sweeps across the room. Lowered voices mean secrets, and if there’s one thing any teenager is interested in, it’s a secret they’re not supposed to know. Within seconds, all eyes are on us.

Yay.

Predictably, Jolynn is the one to speak first. “Who’s this?”

Her question shocks me more than anything else she could have said. Does she seriously not know who Marc is? He’s not trying to hide his demon-ness. She’s a hunter in training. She should easily be able to sense that not only is he a demon, but a very powerful higher demon—and since everyone knows we have a higher demon ambassador living very close to the compound and working with us, common sense would make “Is this Marc?” a much more sensible question.

Either she doesn’t realize he’s a demon, in which case there’s a bigger problem here, or she thinks I’ve got numerous higher demons on speed dial. Which… also a sign of a bigger problem.

Before I can prod my brain into an intelligent reply, Marc takes the reins. “Really?” he says, the word rolling off his tongue and somehow sounding like it’s got four syllables. “You don’t know who I am?”

Jolynn rolls her eyes, and I stifle the urge to bury my head in my hands and weep. The only thing stopping me is how uneasy some of the other kids look. They, at least, have the intelligence to knowwhathe is, if not exactly who. Though I’m hoping they know that too.

“Do you think you’re famous or something?” Jolynn demands, and there are a few gasps, plus one hissed, “Jo!” She looks around. “What? How am I supposed to know who some old guy is?”

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