I opened my mouth to argue but realized that she definitely had a point. And,I hated that point.
The demon's attention shifted toward us.
“I don’t appreciate being referred to as a thing.”
Out of everything that had happened in the last five minutes, that was the part my brain decided to focus on. Not the glowing red eyes. Not the fact Hell apparently existed. Not even the demon standing in my apartment.
The demon was offended by bad manners.
“…Okay, hearing you talk normally is deeply upsetting.”
The demon released a slow breath and pushed himself to his feet. Up until then, he'd been a problem sitting on my couch. Standing up turned him into a completely different category of problem. The apartment felt smaller around him, as though the walls had quietly moved inward while I wasn't looking. Even the candlelight seemed different now that I had something much larger to compare it to.
Beside me, Nina made a noise that belonged in a survival documentary and started dragging me backward toward the kitchen. Her grip tightened around my arm hard enough to leave marks, and for the first time since I'd met her, I couldn't tell whether she was trying to pull me to safety or use me as a shield.
“Relax,” he said. His voice carried the same mild irritation someone might use after being interrupted during a meeting. “I’m not here for souls.”
Nina didn't stop moving.
“Great,” she whispered.
Her fingers tightened again.
“The demon has standards.”
And I stared at him. My brain was still trying to catch up with reality.
“Okay. So if you're not here for souls, why ARE you here?”
The demon stared at me as though the answer should have been obvious.
“You invited me.”
“I absolutely did not.”
For one brief, beautiful moment, I considered the possibility that I was still drunk. Maybe I was still passed out in the backof the bar. Maybe none of this was real. That explanation lasted about three seconds before reality ruined it.
The demon's attention drifted around the apartment again. His gaze lingered on the candles surrounding the coffee table, the gold chalk circle on the floor, and the half-empty wine bottle sitting in the middle of it all. The longer he studied the scene, the more offended he become.
“…You used vanilla candles.”
I frowned.
“So?”
His eyes returned to mine.
“So?” he repeated.
“Yeah?”
I was beginning to suspect that wasn't the correct answer.
Something tightened in his expression. Until then he'd mostly been annoyed. Now he seemed personally insulted.
“That is basically a romantic invitation in Hell.”
Nina turned toward me so slowly it felt deliberate. I'd seen that look before. It was the same expression she'd worn when I tried cutting my own bangs during lockdown. A mixture of concern, disappointment, and the absolute certainty that whatever happened next was going to be entertaining.
