Page 14 of Higher Demon

I slide him an incredulous sidelong look. “You do know I can’t be killed in an automotive collision?”

He purses his lips. “Are you really sure about that? When was the last time a higher demon was evenina car crash? Maybe we should test this out.”

Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. “Are you suggesting we deliberately get into an accident in order to see if I die?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. “You misunderstand me. There’s no ‘we.’ I’ll let you borrow my car, and you drive into a tree or something.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “Spoiler alert: the tree always wins.”

I study his face, so close to mine as he essentially plans my death, and suddenly there’s something very attractive about him.

This garbage car must be affecting my brain. Or maybe it’s just that annoying dinging sound.

“As kind as it is of you to offer your car for this experiment, I can assure you, without a hunter—or team of them—to disperse my conscious essence, there is no level of physical trauma that I can’t survive.”

He straightens so sharply, I’m surprised his spine doesn’t make a snapping sound. “What? So… you could be beheaded and still live?”

I nod. “Beheaded, fully dismembered, organs removed and embalmed.” I can’t resist making it sound as extreme as possible. “Didn’t you know that? Whatdothey teach you hunters?”

He ignores the question. “How is that even possible?”

Tilting my head slightly, I smile. “My body is what I want it to be. It’s a vehicle, a tool… that I get to choose the shape and composition of.”

Ian swallows hard, face pale. Hmm. Perhaps it’s time to steer this conversation to something else.

“How do we turn off that horrid noise?”

That seems to shake him out of his shock. “Uh, it won’t stop until you put your seat belt on.”

Ugh. “Wonderful.” I reach for the unattractive strap, efficiently pull it across my body, and fasten it. The noise immediately stops. “What a delightful statement this makes.”

Shaking his head, Ian checks his mirror and backs out of the parking space. “It’s just a seat belt. The only statement it makes is that you’re safety conscious.”

I make a disagreeing noise. “No, the statement it makes is that I disliked that horrible sound. Maybe I should have just… ended it.”

“No messing with my car,” he orders immediately, turning out of the gates of the compound and onto the highway.

“Weren’t you the one who volunteered this car for me to die in?”

“That was before you said you can’t die. I’m not sacrificing it for anything less.”

I grin. “That’s not very friendly of you.”

He side-eyes me. “I thought we decided we’re not friends?”

“That’s one of the things we need to talk about,” I reply, my tone somewhat more grim than I intended. “But it can wait.” Matt would be a useful friend too—and his brother, unlike Ian’s brother, is a reasonable man.

As reasonable as humans get, that is.

“Where are we going?” I ask before he can press the issue. His mouth snaps closed, and for a second I think he’s going to ask anyway, but he lets it drop.

“To that Mexican place two towns over. Matt stopped for gas.”

I don’t say anything about the human habit of pushing the limits of the fuel tank so hard on a thirteen-hour drive that they have to stop to refuel twenty minutes from home or risk not making it. Honestly, I don’t know how humans as a species even managed to evolve.

Ian, thankfully, doesn’t bother to attempt small talk, instead putting the radio on, and we pass the drive listening to music and ignoring each other. If this is what friendship could be like, I’d gladly make a hundred human friends.

By the time he pulls into a parking space outside a restaurant that frankly looks one step up from derelict but, I must admit, has very good food, I’ve built an imaginary army of friends in my head. They never speak to me or want to interact, simply exist and tell other people that my being on Earth has bettered the planet.

“Ready?” Ian asks, turning off the engine. “You’ve been here before, right? Their margaritas are the best.”

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