The dog clambered up and skidded on the mess on the floor, none the worse for wear.
The demon maneuvered himself to sit up against the oven. “That’s not playing fair, you know. Siccing hellhounds on innocent demons.”
“No one asked your opinion,” said Raya.
Erin eyed the demon. “So who is this guy, anyway?”
“Are you going to talk about me like I’m not here? Rude.”
“Fine. I’m Raya, this is Erin, and you are?”
The demon tugged at his cuffs and ran his hands over his hair before replying. “Phoenix. Great Marquis of Hell. Poet, scholar, life of the party, and demon-about-town.” He stood up, stretched his red wings to their full length, then snapped them away. “So you want to find Andy, do you?”
Erin felt hope bloom within her. “You know him, then?”
Phoenix waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Sure I do. Andromalius. Chap with the red bow tie and too much time on his hands. How did you manage to lose him in the first place?”
“She blasted him.”
Phoenix laughed. “Brilliant.”
“Can’t you just call him up?”
“Call him up? It doesn’t work that way, as any witch worth her salt could have told you.” He eyed Raya meaningfully.
The tips of Raya’s ears turned pink and she opened her mouth to speak.
Erin cut her off. “Why don’t we all adjourn to the living room and figure this out? The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll all be done.”
“Anyone seen my champagne?” Phoenix clapped his hands together and looked around the kitchen. He spotted the bottle where it had rolled under the cabinets. He retrieved the bottle and set about opening it.
“Are you … drinking? Now?” said Erin.
“Is there a better time for drinking?” He popped the cork and put the bottle to his lips, then drank deeply and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I’m sorry. Did you want some?” He held the bottle out to Erin.
Erin shook her head.
“What about you, Witchiepoo?” He offered it to Raya.
“Go to Hell,” said Raya.
“Oh, say it like you mean it, darling,” said Phoenix, and knocked back another swig.
Erin shooed the demon and the witch out of the kitchen before Raya had a chance to take a swing at Phoenix.
Blaze followed them, her large paws thumping on the floor.
Phoenix sprawled on the couch, wine bottle in hand.
Erin sat on the other end of the couch, primly avoiding his outstretched legs. “Can he actually get drunk?”
Raya sat cross-legged on a rag rug. “If he wants to.”
“You bet I want to,” said Phoenix.
Erin stood up and paced the room. As she passed Phoenix, she grabbed the wine bottle. “That’s enough of that. Sit up.”
Phoenix cast her an aggrieved look. “Oh, come on, give a chap a break.”
