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“We’ll get you fed,” the new demon assures me. “I’m Zac. Excuse me for not shaking your hand, but we’re at a critical point.”
“No problem,” I say.
“A critical point of stirring soup?” Micah scoffs. “You’re making that up.”
Zac turns back to the stove. “Do you want to interrupt me and risk ruining dinner?”
Micah huffs and rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else, and I hide a smile. That’s so cute. Like an oversized know-it-all kid. If he pulls that shit with me in the cave, I’ll make him stand outside.
“Can I get you a drink, Cam?” Garrett asks, and I realize I haven’t had anything to drink since my wake-up coffee. I’m parched.
“Yes, please,” I say gratefully.
“I can get it,” Micah volunteers. “We have beer and wine, sparkling water, soda… and juice boxes.”
“Juice boxes?” I bite my lip to keep from giggling. “None of you seem like the juice box type.”
“My brother and Asher’s sister like to visit sometimes. The juice is for them, but they’d be happy to share.”
They keep supplies for their siblings? That’s sweet. “Thanks, but soda is fine.”
“Sit down and be comfortable,” he… orders. His intent is nice, even if the delivery is lacking. I glance over the round kitchen table, which is set for dinner.
“Anywhere in particular?” I ask. I don’t want to sit in someone’s preferred seat. I hate when that happens.
Garrett smiles at me knowingly. “Right there is a good spot. And it’s next to me.”
Thankful that he’s making it easy for me, I slide into the seat he indicated.
“Dinner’s ready,” Zac declares, sliding the last grilled cheese sandwich onto a platter and bringing it to the table. “Ash, help me dish up.”
Asher goes over to the stove with a stack of bowls as Micah delivers my soda and takes the seat beside me. “Okay?” he asks quietly, and I can’t help my little grin. People always say demons are grumpy, and I avoided them a lot because of that, but these guys are great.
“Okay,” I affirm and take a sip of soda.
Zac and Asher join us a moment later, passing out the food, and for a little while, there’s just the sound of eating with the occasional “mmm” of pleasure. Zac makes excellent soup. If I was the kind of person who cooked at all, I’d ask for the recipe.
“So, Cam,” Garret says, finally breaking the silence. “How do you know Alistair? I was surprised when he said he knew a mechanical puzzle expert. He’s not the type to sit down with a puzzle.”
I snort. “No,” I agree. “They’re not energetic enough for him. It’s a good story, actually. I was working in a department store in… hmm. I think it was the 1960s? A good while ago, anyway. I hated it, but it was steady work, and I needed the money. They stuck me in the back of menswear, because sometimes I can be clumsy, and they figured that’s where I’d do the least harm.” I roll my eyes. That was a stupid assumption—in the two months I worked there, I did alotof accidental damage. “The plus side to being in such a quiet corner was that nobody noticed if I kept a puzzle with me and fiddled with it when there were no customers.”
“I can’t relate any of this to your cousin,” Asher tells Garrett. “A quiet menswear department? There’s not enough chaos for him there.”
This time I laugh out loud. “He brings the chaos with him. One day, the store was practically deserted, and I was playing with this puzzle I’d made myself. It wasn’t quite what I wanted it to be, and I was just wondering if adding components would make it better, when I heard shouting and a massive crash. People were yelling, and this man comes racing through the store, being chased by another man. The first guy was knocking over displays and weaving, doing his best to avoid being caught, and I was getting annoyed. I was the one who’d have to clean that mess up, you know?”
Zac winces. “People suck.”
I nod. “They really do. Anyway, he came charging past me, and I threw my puzzle at him. It hit him in the back of the head and knocked him out.”
“Please tell me that was Alistair,” Asher says. “Please.”
Garrett elbows him. “He’s my cousin, Ash. It looks terrible for us to hope he got injured.” He turns his gaze to me. “But was it?”
I shake my head. I’d be appalled by their callousness, but… it’s Alistair. He’s a wonderful friend to me and a lot of fun at parties, but I don’t think anyone who knows him hasn’t wanted to maim him a little at least once. “No, Alistair was the one chasing him. I never found out exactly why, though—he said it was classified. He put handcuffs on the guy, handed him over to a bunch of officers from Enforcement who’d finally arrived, and then brought me back my puzzle, thanked me for helping, and asked me what it was.” I pause to take a sip of soda, and everyone waits.
“Did he listen to your answer?” Garrett asks.
“He did.” And now that I know him better, I marvel over that. Alistair can be focused when he’s interested in something, but mechanical puzzles don’t interest him. “He even asked questions. And then he invited me to a party he was throwing that weekend.”
