Page 33 of Higher Demon

“I hope this will be adequate,” Marc says smoothly. I take in the twin beds made up with expensive-looking linens and piled high with fluffy pillows, the nightstands with fancy lamps, the plush rug, the tallboy with a mirror on the wall above and a tray on top that holds bottled water, cut-crystal tumblers, and… are those little boxes of chocolates?

“Uh,” I say.

“The bathroom is just across the hall. You should find everything you need in the cabinet beside the vanity.”

“Sure,” Matt says. “Because why wouldn’t you be able to outfit the place like a hotel in literally one second?” He looks at me with wide eyes, and I know what he’s thinking. Are we going to be able to sleep at all knowing that not only is there a higher demon down the hall, but that the beds we’re lying in are made from demon magic?

“What, no TV?” I manage weakly.

The mirror disappears, replaced by a wall-mounted fifty-inch television, the remote control sitting neatly on the tallboy below. A full-length freestanding mirror appears in the corner.

“Better?”

“Sometimes I forget how much I hate you. This isn’t one of those times,” I say honestly, and the bastard laughs.

“I’ll just leave you to it, then. You’ll find pajamas in the top drawer.” He nods toward the tallboy. “I hope I guessed the sizes right.”

Because that’s not creepy at all.

“Nope,” Matt says hurriedly. “Movie night. Popcorn. Where’s your biggest TV?”

For a minute, I think Marc’s going to refuse. “Think of the treaty,” I cajole. I really want to see his face when he meets Elle Woods for the first time.

He sighs. “This way.”

We leave the scariest bedroom ever behind and go back downstairs. Marc turns toward the back of the house, and we follow, even Uncle Norval. He’s back to muttering again, and I’m pretty sure I’ll need to take steps to stop him from changing his mind and telling Connor everything.

Marc stops, then points toward the end of the hall. “The kitchen is that way. I’ll stock it with food for you.”

Matt shoots me a panicked look, but he’s the one who asked for popcorn. Did he seriously think a demon would buy groceries from the store?

“And here”—our host pushes open double doors—“is the media room.”

It’s a big room, but that’s just as well, given the size of the screen dominating one wall. “Whoa,” I breathe. I’m half regretting my insistence onLegally Blonde—this is the kind of screen made for action movies. My gaze tracks around the room, taking in the surround sound system and the giant sectional that could probably fit a dozen people. There’s a recessed bar tucked away in one corner, with a mini fridge, sink, and array of bottles and glassware. “Do you even use this room?”

Marc shrugs, crossing to the bar and opening the cabinet to reveal snacks. “Not often. But it came with the house, and it seemed foolish not to keep it stocked.”

Uncle Norval pushes right through us—never a pleasant sensation—and kicks back on the couch, staring at the blank screen with something approaching reverence. “If the others could see this…,” he whispers. “This is the afterlife we deserve.” He lifts his head abruptly. “Do you have cable or streaming services or both?”

Marc turns with a heaping bowl of popcorn in one hand and a family-size chocolate block in the other. “I have everything.”

“So I could watchBelow Deckon this screen and see every pore on their faces?”

Oh. My. God.

Matt and I look at each other. What the hell is even going on at Mannix Estate these days?

“I don’t know what that is, but I have everything,” Marc repeats.

“It’s a reality show about the crew members who work on a superyacht that gets chartered by rich people,” Norval explains. “How do you feel about having roommates?”

“No.”

“It’s a vital part of friendship,” my thousand-years-dead uncle says with his eyes widened as far as they can go.

“Still no.”

“And we’re not watchingBelow Deck,” Matt adds, joining Norval on the couch.

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