Page 35 of Higher Demon

Ian nudges me and mouths, “He is.”

“But getting back to my question,” Dylan says, “Matty hasn’t been drinking? You’re really friends with a higher demon? No offense, Demon McFuckface.”

“Please,” I say dryly, “don’t feel you need to stand on formalities. Call me Asshole.”

He chuckles. “Is that how you lure unsuspecting humans into bargaining away their souls? Lull them into complacency with humor? Coz I gotta say, it’s working for you.”

I scoff. “Human souls are of no interest to me. I spend as little time with your species as possible.”

“Why don’t I explain,” Ian breaks in. “Because this is going nowhere fast. And dude, you gotta stop with the mean comments about humans. Nobody wants to be friends with anyone who hates their whole species.”

This project is destined to fail, then.

Ian quickly summarizes the situation for Dylan, who only interrupts twice to ask questions.

“Okay, got it. Another day, another mission to save the world. I’m in.”

I wait. Surely there must be more…?

“Thanks, Dyl. Knew we could count on you,” Matt says.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna need some background from my new friend Asshole.”

Ian winces at the epithet—nickname? I don’t think I’ve ever had a nickname before—but I say, “Background? What do you mean?”

“If I’m going to start leaving hints all over the internet that you’re a great guy and we’re friends, I gotta have something to leave. Favorite food? Hobbies? And guys, I need some pics. Selfies of you with him, and some of him on his own—generic ones that I can edit and people won’t realize.”

This is definitely no longer within my control. “My favorite foods don’t exist on this world, and my hobbies aren’t the kind that would make humans want to befriend me.” I consider everything else he said. “If a ‘pic’ is a photograph, I forbid Ian and Matt to take any of me.”

“He likes Mexican food,” Ian says, as though I haven’t spoken. “And there was that time we went for tapas, he liked that too.”

“Indian food,” Matt adds. “Remember when you took him to the bottomless curry place? He stuck his nose up at the plastic cutlery, but he went back for a second helping.”

“I forgot that. Don’t mention that he’s a snob, Dyl. But you can say he likes craft beers. Hey, maybe we should go to a microbrewery and get some selfies there.”

The clacking sound starts up again. “That’s good thinking.”

“Not if Ian’s picking,” I remark… and am ignored once again.

“What about hobbies?”

There’s an awkward silence, and I gloat. Let them try.

“He’s got a lot of books,” Matt volunteers. “Rare antique ones, too.”

“History geek,” Dylan says. “I can work with that.”

I force myself not to react. “I have no interest in Earth’s history,” I announce. Do they not realize that I spent most of that timeignoringtheir dirty little world?

“He also critiqued an unpublished manuscript for the friend of a friend,” Ian adds, stretching the truth beyond recognition. “And he likes custom stationery and… what do you call that thing with fancy handwriting?”

Matt looks at him blankly while I wonder if humanity is really worth saving. If Cato had been content to merely kill humans, instead of wanting to take down the barrier between worlds and upset the order of things, I may very well have left him to it.

“Calligraphy?” Dylan asks as the clacking continues.

“What is that infernal noise?” I ask.

Ian and Matt frown. “What noise?”

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