"Here you go," Tom said, placing a drink next to the open book. Ezra looked up with big, surprised eyes. "My shift has finished. Is it okay if we have a drink together?" Ezra nodded, and Tom slid into the square booth. The tight brown leather creased underneath him, and he was glad to be off his feet. "How's the book?"

"Boring." Ezra closed it and quickly looked around. Locals were watching them, motioning towards them, shaking their heads, and leaning closer to talk quietly. Ezra stared down at his jacket that was folded neatly on the table. "You don't have to sit with me just because I helped you yesterday."

"I'm actually sitting here because I want to have a drink with you. I know that you know how grateful I am. I'm sure I said thank you enough times yesterday." Tom smiled, and Ezra's nervous expression simmered. "Ignore them. They have nothing better to talk about, which is actually quite sad."

"It is." Ezra sipped his pint, staring above the glass at Tom. "Is your friend planning on drinking twelve pints tonight?"

"At the pace he's going, I don't think he'll make it to ten." Tom watched Cal run up to Harper and twirl her around and away from her friends. They danced together until she guided him to the bar for another drink. Tom had once done that with Kimberley, his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him with his ex-best friend, Lewis. They had some of the best times in the Glass Horns Pub. The memories hurt, until Ezra interrupted them.

"He's telling everyone about how I saved your life."

Cal had an arm around a local who they had known all their lives, someone who helped Farmer Joel, and sometimes brought in his homemade shortbread. "You can hear him from over here?"

"Yes."

Tom had the sudden urge to down his drink. "Which mean you heard mine and Cal's conversation earlier at the bar?"

"I was trying not to listen."

They looked at each other. A strong blush wildfired through Ezra's pale skin. Tom pursed his lips. Great, he heard me saying that he was hot. He wanted the ground to open a gaping black hole and spit him out onto another planet.

"I appreciate you not telling him what I was reading about," Ezra added. "And saying that you didn't know my name."

"I think he might call you Ez from now on."

"Good. Ezra was a little too close to my full name."

"Should I call you Ez too from now on?"

"Only in front of others. But you don't have to if it's just us." Ezra quickly sipped his drink and adjusted himself on his seat. If he still sat with his hood up, Tom would have assumed he was annoying him. But Ezra was flustered at holding a conversation, like an awkward introvert.

Those brown eyes, Tom thought, when Ezra decided that looking at him was better than the glares from the locals. Why can't I look away? Tom could fall into his stare, until he realised that was the purpose of a demon, to pull you in and tempt you to do mischief. Tom didn't feel like spending all his money on the horses, or punching someone he disliked, or drinking until he was sick, or stealing his bodyweights worth of cheese. He just wanted to stare back.

"Can I ask you something about being a demon?"

Ezra nodded.

"Can you choose when to tempt people and when to not tempt people?"

Ezra shook his head to say no. "It just happens. I guess that's another reason I keep my hood up."

"But I'm not tempted by you. It's not your fault, we still have choices."

"But you already have been tempted by me."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, frowning.

"You're lying to the librarian. You're lying to your best friend and keeping secrets from your family because of me."

Tom swirled his bottle, watching the yellow liquid swirl with the motion. "That was still my choice, and I know the consequences. And it's not bad things. I wouldn't be like Phil who gambled his house away."

"You never know. Addiction can happen to anyone."

"True."

"But I would say that you're strong willed, more than most humans."

"Why?"

Ezra shrugged. "Because you're sat next to me."

"Fifty years ago, hardly anyone would have batted an eyelid at a human and a demon having a drink at the same table. I don't get how things have changed so much." Tom took the book and slid it towards himself. "Was the history of angels and demons helpful with whatever you're looking into?"

"Not really." Ezra crossed his arms. "I need something to do with crime in the area."

Tom so desperately wanted to ask more, but he doubted that Ezra would open up in a pub full of people glaring at him. "So, will my insides really implode if I teleported with you?"

Ezra smiled so subtly that Tom thought it was a trick of the yellow light above his head. "Why do you think I pushed you off the road, rather than take you off the road?"

"Ah. Well, I think I'd rather get hit by a car than implode."

"Yes."

Tom finished his drink. "How far can you travel at once?"

"Five miles."

"How long do you have to wait between each five miles?"

"Seconds. If our feet touch the ground, we can move again immediately."

"Wow. I thought you could like . . . jump entire oceans but I guess if your feet have to touch the ground, that gets a bit difficult."

"Yes." The smile on Ezra's face was more prominent, and his eyes did most of the smiling.

He's cute. Tom kept expression soft. Never thought I'd think that about a demon. "When were you born?"

"A long time ago."

"Wait, I think I can do the math." Tom frowned, having to count with his fingers until he said, "The year nineteen seventeen."

Ezra looked away. The smile was fading from his eyes and Tom wondered if his life so far had been too long and too tough. Of course it has, he thought. Soul strippers are rumoured to come from haunting crimes.

"So, uh . . . how many pints do you have to drink to wake up in a pool of your own vomit? If I had just four of these-" Tom held up the empty desperado bottle, "I'd want to order food and go to bed. But four for Cal would be his pre-drinks."

Ezra finished off his pint, inspecting the empty glass. "I'd say maybe thirty. But I'm not sure."

"Thirty?" Tom's jaw hung ajar. "Surely, you'd be peeing for days."

"Probably."

"Have you ever gotten drunk?"

"On the edge of it. But it's hard when pubs don't really let me in for that long."

Tom shook his head. "One night, we should have a lock-in. Just you, me, Cal, and my parents. You'll get so drunk and be safe enough from the locals."

"But would you feel safe?"

The question came crashing down on Tom as if the building had collapsed. Would he feel safe around a drunk demon? His gut was telling him that no was the right answer. "Unless you're a rowdy drunk, why would there be a reason to not feel safe?"

"I'm a demon," Ezra said, like the word itself was poisonous.

"I would say you're strong willed," Tom repeated his words back to him. "More than most demons."

"You would say that despite knowing I'm a soul stripper?"

"Well, whatever you've done to have that job, surely you're paying for it now?"

"Whatever I've done," Ezra repeated sourly. His eyes had grown cold and dark, his body tense and defensive. "Thank you for the drinks. I have to go now."

"Oh, Ezra, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I'll be in touch about getting another book." Ezra put his jacket on and pulled his hood up to cover his face. He was gone before Tom could take another breath.

Feeling eyes on him, he scooped up their glasses and slipped out of the bar before Cal could notice he was gone. But his dad quickly followed. "Are you okay, son?" he shouted up the stairs.

"I just pissed off a soul stripper." Tom stormed to his room and shut the door. Truthfully, he barely knew Ezra. Just because they had helped each other out didn't give either of them a reason to pry into their personal lives. Tom regretted saying what he did, despite him meaning no harm by it. "Of course that would've been a touchy subject for him, idiot." Tom collapsed on his bed and stared up at his ceiling, and the dots of blu tack where band posters had once been.

He sulked for the rest of the night and woke up in a bad mood. But when he saw Cal sprawled out across the pub floor on his way to the door, at least he didn't have a hangover. On the nearest table, he put down a glass of water and a box of painkillers for him and left as quietly as he could.

Tom did his usual run when he was feeling stressed or upset. He ran all the way to the hill, taking his frustration out on the countryside, until nature won, and he had to stop and catch his breath. Tom walked up the rest of the hill, stopping to place hands on his knees and gasp for air.

The morning was crisp and cold. It didn't take him long to cool down and sit on the nearest bench under a large old oak tree. The sky was a mixture of dark grey clouds with yellow sun trying to peak through the gaps. In the distance, he could see rain by the way the sunrays sliced to the earth.

As he stared, something pricked the back of his neck. Whether it was the wind, or an odd feeling, he wasn't sure. Tom shifted on the bench and zipped his waterproof jacket up to his chin. It wasn't the wind. He still felt uneasy, the way he did when demons were close.

Slowly, he turned his head to the left and jumped when someone was sitting next to him.