Page 41 of Higher Demon

He ignores the pointed remark. “I must have missed that. I’ve been watching TV in that amazing room. I think I should invite a few friends to join us here. You all overlooked that last night when you were making plans—ghosts can be friends too, and we have influence with the Collective.”

I’d be impressed by his confidence if he wasn’t inviting himself and other ghosts to move into my house. “No.”

He feigns surprise. “I thought you wanted to make more friends.”

“By all means, invite your friends to California,” I offer. “But nobody is welcome to stay here. Or use the television.”

His eyes narrow. “Rude.”

“Leave, before I make you.” I smile. “Friend.”

With a last huff, he pops out, presumably to bother somebody else.

I stand and straighten my clothes, then use magic to change into my favorite suit. If I’m going to ignore the startling discovery I made right before Norval came to annoy me, I need a distraction. And it might as well be something useful.

It’s the work of a moment to return to Crmærdinesgh. I let the delightful familiarity of it wash over me. The only times I’ve been back in the past six years have been to report to Vestia. I’ve avoided social visits for fear of homesickness, but now… well, now I have no choice. I said I’d ask around and find out who the Highetts are reporting to.

“Marc?”

I turn and smile at Titus. Despite the human guise he’s wearing—what Ian would probably call “English professor”—he’s as familiar to me as my own self. “Miss me?”

The blast of power to my midsection has me doubling over in pain, and then I’m caught in a hug, the familiar essence of my old friend washing over me.

“You bastard. Barely a word since you went to Earth!”

I return the embrace, slapping his back as my breath returns. “I’ll do better.” He’s right. The semi-regular letters and messages I’ve been sending aren’t enough, especially when he’s been sending me news every month.

He lets me go and stands back to study me. It’s obvious that I caught him in the middle of tending his carnivorous garden—he’s got his heavy gloves on and a bloody chunk missing from one leg. I glance down. “You leaked all over my suit.”

Rolling his eyes, Titus scoffs, “So fix it and come have a drink with me.” He’s always lacked a proper appreciation for clothing.

I follow him through the (non-carnivorous) garden to the house, which is just as lovely as always. What he lacks in personal style, he makes up for in his showpiece of a home—and his parties. Nobody throws a party like Titus. I’m getting wistful just remembering the last one I came to.

“The usual?” he asks over his shoulder, waving me toward the sofa as we enter his study. Titus doesn’t use the desk, but he told me once that every house like this needs a study, if only for intimidating people who ask for favors. I quite agree.

“Yes, please.” The frosted glass of spicy juice appears in my hand a moment later, and I take a sip, relishing the slight tang of the alcohol he added. “I missed this. Nobody makes a drink like you, Titus.”

“You wouldn’t have to miss it if you came to visit,” he scolds, sitting at the other end of the sofa with his own glass in hand. “And if you came to visit, I wouldn’t have to wonder if you need a favor right now.”

I grimace. He knows me too well. “Is that why we’re in the study? Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“Hah! As if I could.” He eyes me. “Everybody knows what would happen to anyone who tried to take you down.”

I hide my cringe. “Stop that. We both know I’m not nearly as?—”

He holds up a hand. “Please. We both know you don’t want to be in charge, but let’s not pretend. It’s just us here, and we’ve known each other since we both became within days of each other. You may not be the best-liked among us”—I snort and take another drink. I can always trust Titus to be brutally honest—“but by virtue of your interests and thirst for knowledge, you’re the most influential. You’re a powerful demon in your own right, and the network you’ve built over your life ensures that you have the might to take down anyone who tries to cross you.” He shrugs. “You just don’t usually care enough to do it. People forgot. They overlooked you. And then Cato had his delusional power trip, and you reminded them all.”

I put my glass down on the little table beside me. His voice got deadly serious toward the end there, and I feel he may be trying to tell me something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He meets my gaze dead-on. “Just that things are different now. Your capabilities are at the forefront of people’s minds. They might not show you who they really are.”

Turning that over in my head, I raise a brow. Is he suggesting someone might try to assassinate me? That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing to gain from it.

Still… “That might worry me if I was living here instead of on Earth.”

He looks away and sighs. “Just… don’t forget. Enemies might exist now where they didn’t before.”

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