The second hour went by slowly. Not one customer entered the store. I scrubbed down the counter, swept the floor, and organised Edith’s paperwork into neat piles.
During the third hour, the door opened and a figure in beige trousers and a short-sleeved white collared shirt tucked in, stepped inside. The aromatic scent of vanilla and citrus wafted through the air, and my shoulders dropped. It was Nathaniel.
Hands in his pockets, he pretended to scour the shelves while I stood behind the counter, our bodies only metres away while our hearts measured the distance of the Earth and stars. We hadn’t spoken since he’d dropped me back home. He’d texted me, of course, but I hadn’t responded.
Not a word was spoken as he walked up and down the aisles, his long fingers pulling books off the shelf only to return them minutes later as he browsed through row after row.
Are you just going to watch him like a creep?
I was surprised to hear the Devil’s voice. It was calm, lacking its usual bite. I had grown comfortable with his silence—comfortable with myownthoughts. I did not flinch, though. His presence was not unwelcome.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” I asked once Nathaniel returned a third book onto the shelf.
“No,” he answered, slowly turning to face me, “I’m here for you.”
“Why?”
“I want to ask you a question. Just one. And I want you to be honest with me.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe there is a demon inside of you?”
He knows. He knows. He knows.
“Excuse me?”
“Answer the question, Augustus. Do you believe there is a demon inside of you?”
No, no, no.
“Yes.”
I did not know what I expected from Nathaniel in that moment. Perhaps I expected him to gasp, scream, or flee from the store. But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t do that. What I hadn’t anticipated was for Nathaniel to lean back against the bookshelves comfortably, arms folded over his chest.
“Tell me about it,” he said, “this…demon.”
I shook my head, ready to tell him no, when he raised a hand to silence me.
“Don’t,” he said, voice soft, “just tell me.”
I swallowed back my protests, lowering my gaze to the pile of books on the counter. “Well,” I cleared my throat, “the first thing you should know is that…it’s not just a demon.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
“It’s the Devil.”
Nathaniel didn’t even flinch. “As in, Lucifer?”
Should I be flattered that he hasn’t run away yet?
“Yes,” I answered, weary. It almost felt like this was some sort of trap. A test.
“Do you see him?”
“Not often.”
“So youhaveseen him?”
