“You resemble it,” countered Phoenix. “No, I’ll have to go. Someone has to take charge of you lot. Bunch of hapless mortals and a lovesick demon.”
“What will Raya think if you show up?”
“What do I care? She can bloody well deal with it,” said Phoenix, hunching his wings and unintentionally making himself look like a petulant gargoyle. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“I was thinking—the mall?” Even as Andy said it, he cringed, anticipating Phoenix’s reaction.
“The mall? That’s all you could come up with?”
“It’s not like I can fly her to Paris.”
“Well, technically, you could.”
“Not on this short notice, and not without a lot of awkward questions.”
“Fine, fine. The mall it is.” Phoenix made a face of distaste. “Stuck in a backwater and condemned to go to the mall. That’s what I get for getting mixed up with you.”
“Thank you, Phoenix,” said Andy.
Phoenix edged away. “Don’t get all mushy on me.”
Andy held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t.”
Phoenix huffed. “See that you don’t.”
They lapsed into companionable silence—two demons with all the time in the world—as the rising moon illuminated the river from edge to edge.
27
The four doors of Erin’s sedan slammed one after another as Raya, Erin, Andy, and Phoenix stepped out of the car and into the parking lot of the local mall.
The mall had seen better days. Years of rain had left rusty trails running down the sides of the exterior. Birds nested in the parking lot lights, and scruffy grass overran the concrete planters.
Phoenix inhaled deeply. “Ah, you can smell the decline.”
“Smells like capitalism to me,” said Raya.
Erin approached Andy. “We were going to practice looking like a couple, right?”
Andy started. “Right! Yes. Let’s do that.” He held one hand out gingerly, as if testing a pan on the stove to see how hot it was.
Erin placed her hand softly in his. “See? I don’t bite.”
They walked into the first department store.
“Oh, look at this!” Raya skipped over to a nearby rack and picked up a sleek little black dress.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Phoenix, taking the dress out of her hands and returning it to the rack. “It’s a wedding, not a funeral.”
“I like black,” said Raya. “Shoot me.”
“If only,” said Phoenix.
“Fine, no black. How about this?” Raya darted away and picked up a white lace cocktail dress.
Erin made a skeptical face. “I think it would draw attention if someone other than the bride was wearing white.”
“You have to admit, it’d be funny,” said Raya. She laid the dress against herself. “How do I look?”
