Page 21 of Higher Demon

“First rule of getting humans not to hate you.” I hold up a finger. “If someone says you’re friends, and you need friends but don’t have any, you don’t insult them.” I stop to think about it. “Not right away. You’ve gotta reach a specific level of friendship before you can insult each other.”

He looks from me to Matt and then back to me again. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, this is gonna take forever if we need to explain all the unspoken but clearly understood elements of friendship,” Matt says. “Especially because it’s different for every person.”

I’ve never seen Marc go pale before, not in the six years I’ve known him. Not when the barrier between worlds came down and he had to fight another higher demon. Not when he faced down the council of the Collective and announced he was here as ambassador from Crmærdinesgh. Not in the face of rudeness, insults, other demons, my brother in one of his shitty moods… never.

Not until now.

Turns out, the easiest way to scare a higher demon is to talk about the intricacies of making friends. I tuck that little fact away to share with Connor later.

“Lucky for you,” I say with a big, fake-ass smile, “we’re here to… guide you. And be your… friends.” I stifle the urge to shiver. Matt’s right; that does give me a chill. Plus, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that across the country in Illinois, my brother just got the same chill.

As if on cue, Uncle Norval pops into being beside the booth. “Ian? Matt? What are you— Oh.” His eyes narrow on Marc. “You’re here too. Have you harmed my boys?”

“We’re fine, Uncle Norval.” I try not to make it obvious that I’m directing the statement to what everyone else in the restaurant thinks is an empty space. “Do me a favor and sit next to Matt if you’re going to stick around.”

Immediately, he slides into the booth. The weirdest thing about being able to see ghosts is how un-ghostly they are. Like, for us hunters, there’s a little trigger in our brains that tells us they’re ghosts, same as when we see demons, even ones that look completely human, like Marc, and stillknowthey’re demons. We sense the essence of them rather than depending on our eyes. Because our eyes are fucking convinced they’re human and alive, and that’s just not true. The rest of the room sees a booth with three people in it, but me, Matt, and Marc… actually, I have no clue what Marc sees. But for Matt and me, it looks like there’s four of us here.

“What do you see when you look at ghosts?” I ask Marc randomly.

He flips a hand dismissively. “Ghosts.”

Not. Helpful.

“What’s going on here, boys? Connor got all in a snit suddenly and told me to come and check on you.” Uncle Norval glares at Marc.

Matt’s jaw drops. “He sensed it? No way! That’s fucking awesome.”

“Sensed what?” Uncle Norval demands. I wave him off.

“It’s fine, Uncle. I don’t know what Connor’s problem is.” The last thing we need is for Norval to report back that I’m friends with Marc. Con will either have an aneurysm or come tearing out here to have me declared insane. Maybe both.

“Me and Ian made friends with Marc,” Matt declares gleefully. Because it’s the job of a brother-bestie to torture you. “That obvs sent some kind of psychic shockwave through the universe that Connor felt.”

“Stay right there,” I bark at Uncle Norval.

“Interesting,” Marc muses. “I suppose this proves that even the crudest life form can feel fear for a loved one.”

I blink. “Are you calling my brother the crudest life form?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t understand.” Uncle Norval sounds bewildered. Befuddled. Doddering, even. “You’re…friends… with…him?”

“It shocked us too,” Matt says cheerfully. “But it’s for the good of humanity. We’re lying back and thinking of not dying because a legion of demons descended on the world.” He purses his lips. “Nope, that’s going too far. Just friends. Don’t get any ideas,” he warns Marc, who raises a brow.

“What ideas?” He genuinely doesn’t seem to understand what Matt just implied, and I let out a little sigh of relief. That… would definitely be taking this whole friends thing too far. Way too far. I can’t even imagine what Marc would be like in bed.

Bossy, probably.

And he’d definitely critique a guy’s performance.

I get a sudden flash of that incredibly attractive face looming over me in a dark room, damp with sweat, eyes burning with desperate need, and a flush starts at my feet and sweeps up my body.

“Moving on,” I say firmly. “Uncle, it turns out that the only other demons who might want to live on Earth as the ambassador are the ones who might also want to turn the planet into their own personal snack bar. So Marc’s going to be here longer than planned. A lot longer. Which means he can’t keep pissing people off, because he’s going to need to build actual diplomatic relationships.”

Uncle Norval eyes Marc. “Him?” The lack of enthusiasm in his tone is very clear.

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