“Love you, too, Mom.” Milo listened as his mother disconnected the call. Then he immediately went to his personal laptop which was next to his PC on the cluttered desk in his lab. He was still researching social insects and their behavioral patterns, learning all kinds of fascinating things, though nothing that sparked an idea how to tackle the communicational issues in his nanobots. He had indeed an email from the SBW, not nearly as aloof as the letter from Beverly Nyx, but terrifying in its own way. The list of things they wanted, within three weeks to boot, was extensive. While Milo scrolled through the list, he called Quirion on his phone.
As always, the demon answered immediately. As loudly as he had protested the smartphone after Milo had brought up the idea of him having his own, and Dre and Barion buying him one just to piss him off, Quirion now used the thing with a naturalness that made Milo a bit jealous. He admired how the demon could adapt so easily to everything thrown at him.
“Milo! How are you doing today?”
“We did it, Qui, I’m in the next round for the funding!”
“Excellent, Milo! I’m so happy for you. Now, tell me what the next steps are.”
At moments like this, Milo was insanely grateful for Quirion’s friendship. He never had to ask for anything, the demon simply offered, as if he knew exactly what Milo needed and when.“There’s a list of things I have to submit, and I have to admit, it’s rather intimidating.”
“Say no more.” There was a moment of static, some crackling as if the smartphone was forced to its limits and beyond, then Quirion’s voice sounded directly behind him. “Let’s tackle this list.”
Milo looked from his own phone to the huge demon crowding his lab. “How did you know I’m here?”
Quirion lifted a scaly eyebrow. “Simple deduction. It’s not yet lunchtime on a weekday. Where else would you be?”
“Teaching, in a conference, on the toilet, student consultation, to name just a few.”
“You would never phone me during a student consultation, which you always hold on Fridays anyway. If you’d been on the toilet, I would have heard the echo plus you tend to play Mahjong during your defecation and wouldn’t have thought to call me while doing so.”
Milo turned beet red. Sometimes he forgot how little Quirion cared for modesty or politeness and how thorough he was in his observations of his surroundings and the people in it. Seemingly not noticing Milo’s mini meltdown over the mentioning of his bathroom habits, the demon carried on.
“You hate conferences with a passion, they’re usually closer to the end of semester than you currently are, and you always try to wiggle out of them. You teach Wednesday through Friday morning, today it’s Tuesday, which is lab-day for you. Also, I might have put one of those tracking apps on your phone to be able to get to you whenever necessary.”
“You know my teaching schedule? And you have a tracking app on my cell? When did you do that?”
“Of course, I know your schedule. You’re my assistant.” Quirion made it sound like the most logical thing in the world. “The tracking app I installed shortly after I got my ownsmartphone. Dre told me he had one for Sammy and how much better he felt always knowing where his mate is. I gave the idea some thought, contemplated the wisdom of encroaching on your personal freedom and privacy like that, read up on a few human philosophers as well as supernatural ones and decided your safety has priority over any and all objections you might have on the matter.”
With anybody else, Milo would have been enraged. Livid. With Quirion, he could see it as the loving gesture it was. It also helped to know that the demon would never use the app to control him. For Quirion it really was all about Milo’s safety, just like he had stated. Milo could accept that, despite the reservations he should have according to the tiny voice at the back of his mind.
“Okay. We might have to revisit this thought-process at a later time, but at the moment I’m just glad you’re here to help me.”
“Help you with what, Abber?”
Milo whirled around at the sound of Devon’s voice. Quirion didn’t turn at all, he was too busy retracting his claws and fangs.Never sneak up on a demon!Well, never sneak up on a paranormal in general. That was the very first rule for humans to keep their innards where they belonged. Devon didn’t know about demons and other paranormal creatures and thus was happily oblivious to how narrowly he had just avoided researching the fauna and flora of the next realm from this moment forward.
“Again, Abber, help you with what? And who is this guy anyway? Never seen him before.” Devon’s tone made it more than clear how utterly ignorant he was of his lucky escape.
Before Milo had a chance to think about how to get rid of Devon without bloodshed, Quirion turned. To Milo, he still looked like his very gorgeous demonic self, with sheathed claws and fangs, of course, scales not showing. On Devon he must havemade quite the impression, because Milo’s nemesis was trying to get his jaw back up from the floor. There was also drool in the corners of his mouth.Perhaps Devon isn’t such a strait-laced jock after all.
“Milo, who is this?” Quirion’s rumble was just this side of polite, with the very real potential of going hostile at a moment’s notice. Defusing the situation became a priority. His demon could be just as visceral with words as with his claws.
“Quirion, this is Devon Merrybone, a colleague of mine who researches maritime life. Devon, this is Quirion, my mentor and former employer.”
Quirion held out his hand with an expression that had shudders running down Milo’s back. His demon—notmydemon,thedemon, damn it—had his extra polite smile on display, all teeth and threat, meaning it looked like that of a shark, with glamour and without. Quirion was ready to do battle, whether with words or claws would be determined by Devon’s reaction.
“I’ve heard of you, Devon, was it? You’re the man who thinks scholarly funding is a piggy bank to be used at your convenience.”
He grabbed Devon’s hand and shook it. Judging from the wince on Devon’s face, Quirion wasn’t too subtle about the pissing contest this was meant to be.
Though Milo had to give credit where credit was due. Either out of utter ignorance or true bravery, Devon held Quirion’s hostile stare and gripped his hand back, so hard his knuckles turned white. A flash of grudging respect crossed Quirion’s features before he let go.
“Yes, I’m Devon and no, I don’t think scholarly funding is a piggy bank. It’s not my fault the board decided my research is more promising than Abber’s.” He shrugged, silently accepting the gauntlet Quirion had thrown him.
“Oh, of course it’s not your fault. I bet nothing ever really is. It’s your daddy’s money that’s to blame. So easy, too, as it has no will of its own.” Quirion sounded almost giddy delivering these words. He loved nothing more than sparring verbally and finally getting Devon—who he had cursed more than once during Milo’s time at the MIT—in his clutches was bound to make him happy. It was also the exact reason Milo had always talked him out of ‘having a word’ with Devon. It was bound to end poorly.
“What are you insinuating?” Devon managed to look just the right amount of wounded without giving Quirion a win. “I am a serious scientist looking to stop coral bleach and saving the reefs of this world. It’s certainly a more profound research field than nanobots.” Devon spit the word out as if it were something vile. “And since we’re on the subject of money, I ask again, what are you helping Abber with? Is he unable to do his own legwork? Does he need a little doggo to help?”
