Page 4 of Higher Demon

“Yes?” I put as much disdain as I can manage into the word, looking him up and down as though he’s a particularly smelly piece of refuse. It takes effort—as far as humans go, Ian isn’t unattractive.

He grins widely, showing all his teeth, then pushes past me and strides inside without being invited. I half turn to watch him go into the parlor as though he owns it.

“Rude,” I call after him, closing the door. “Though I suppose I should expect that, given you were raised by a feral raccoon.”

“Don’t be mean to my brother,” he says as I enter the parlor and find him sitting in my favorite chair, his grubby canvas shoes propped on the ottoman. I eye them disdainfully. He has absolutely no style.

“Your brother’s always mean to me,” I retort, settling for a seat on the sofa by the window. I could easily move him, but… I don’t. Using my power to affect him physically would change the dynamic between us. As annoying as I find humans generally, and Ian specifically, he’s one of the few semi-allies I have here on Earth. And since I’m stuck here for the time being—thanks to my own stupid sense of obligation—I need all the allies I can get.

“You did try to kill him,” he reminds me, and I wave it off.

“Not seriously. If I’d wanted him dead, he wouldn’t be alive today to torment me with his very existence.”

Ian chuckles, as though I’ve made a joke. I let that slide too. When we first met—or rather, the second time we met… the first time was the day of the aforementioned attempted killing of his brother—he would never have laughed off a mention of Connor’s near-death. But lately, he seems not to care about it so much. Maybe he’s finally starting to realize how dreadfully annoying and brash his brother is.

“Did you want something?” I ask pointedly. “Or have you invaded my peace and forced your way into my home just for your personal enjoyment?”

“A little bit,” he concedes, holding up his index finger and thumb with only a tiny gap between them. “If you’d answered my call or text, you could have spared yourself this. But since you chose to be an antisocial douche, I figured I might as well stop by to ruin your day… for funsies.”

My lip curls. “Funsies,” I repeat. “What a charming word.”

He laughs. “Come on, Marc. You’ve lived here six years now. It’s time to start using the local lingo.”

I raise a brow. “I’m fluent in English, Spanish, and a dozen other languages that are used in this region. ‘Funsies’ is not a word in any of them.”

He groans dramatically. “You’re, like, the absolute worst. There’s not a single fun bone in your body. Live a little.”

Wistfully, I remember how happy I was just minutes ago. “Before you destroyed my afternoon and fouled my furniture with your dirty shoes, I was having plenty of fun.”

“Hey! They’re clean.”

We both look at his shoes.

“Ish,” he adds. “I wiped them on the mat before I came in, anyway. And, just in case you missed it the first time, I wouldn’t be here if you’d answered the phone.”

I scoff. “Never.”

“Dude, seriously. I get not wanting to answer calls all the time, because what the fuck, right? But you’re supposed to answer calls from friends.”

I pull a face. “Are we friends, though?”

He seesaws a hand. “Yeah, I knew it was iffy when I said it. So maybe you can ignore my calls, but at least text me back. Did you even read it? What if it was important?”

“If it was important, you’d come here to tell me in person.”

His smile is triumphant. “Which is what I did. So what you’re saying is that by ignoring my calls and text, you invited me over. Thanks, man.”

I narrow my eyes. “I hate you.”

“You’re not the first person to say that to me. I don’t get it, though. I’ve got such a winning personality.”

Straightening my cuffs, I say nothing.

“So, listen,” he starts, and I hold in a sigh. I can already tell I’m not going to like this. “I’m going to do you a favor.”

“Oh, really?”

He smiles happily. “Yep! I’m going to let you tell a roomful of people how stupid they are.”

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