Tom saw the soul stripper on Sunday afternoon. A ripple of unrest had travelled through the pub. He soon overheard a local talking about a demon who sat alone outside. Tom was working with his mother, who nodded in agreement that he should go and check it out.

Ezrakhell sat at a round wooden table with an open Carlsberg-branded parasol, sheltering him from the light rain. "Hi," Tom said, interrupting his sombre silence. Ezrakhell turned his head with his hood still covering most of his face. "Want a drink?"

"Strongbow," Ezrakhell grumbled, searching his pockets before giving Tom three pound coins.

Tom returned with a pint, quickly rubbing the cold out of his fingers. The rain was pouring heavier. He noticed how the demon wasn't reading this time and thought back to the argument he had seen on Friday.

He turned away when the soul stripper continued to watch the distant fields. Tom headed towards the pub, hesitated, and turned back around. "Hey uh . . . I could probably help you out with the book situation."

Ezrakhell turned his head again. "What?" he questioned, and Tom sat opposite him to get out of the rain.

"I was in the village on Friday. I saw how you were banned from the library. But I could get books for you if you wanted?"

"Why?"

Tom shrugged. "Why not?" He imagined the demon's eyes staring at him in confusion, because the hood still covered them. "I don't mind. Just tell me what book you want, and I'll get it for you. I have a library card."

A moment of silence fell between them. Tom ignored the locals sheltering by the door, nudging each other, and nodding in his direction. "I'm not ending the contract."

"Oh." Tom rubbed his ring finger, shaking his head. "I don't care about that. Your full name is none of my business."

"Then what do you want?"

"To help you with whatever you're doing."

"Why?"

"Why do I need a reason?" Tom crossed his arms, but really it was to stop himself from shivering.

"There's always a reason."

Tom tilted his head, trying to get a better look at him, but the demon glanced down. "You want to read books, I can get you those books." Tom shrugged again. "I just hate the way you're treated. I don't know if you've noticed, but we run one of the only demon-friendly pubs in a fifty-mile radius. It matters to us that you guys get to live a life too."

Ezrakhell stared down for a long time. Tom lost hope that he was going to respond. He got up to run back inside, until the demon muttered, "Fine. I'll let you get me books."

"Okay!" Tom rubbed his palms together for warmth. "Well, if I do this for you . . . " He paused to grab the demon's attention. "Then I get to call you a nickname."

The demon slowly shifted his attention back to the beer. He cupped the glass with large pale fingers. "No."

"Why?"

"I won't be around long enough for you to remember it."

"Well, just for the meantime then. I can't keep calling you Soul Stripper." Tom stood closer to be under the parasol and out of the rain. "What about . . ." he hushed his tone, leaning down to say, "Ezra?" Ezrakhell finally looked up, connecting Tom's blue gaze with wary brown ones. "It's not your full name because I don't want to summon you," Tom added, circling his face now that the daylight touched it. He was handsome, with dark eyebrows, big brown eyes with thick lashes, a nose with a prominent bridge that suited his sharp features and full lips. "If you're not comfortable with that then, I can call you something else?"

"Ezra's fine," he said, turning back to his drink. "Don't share it."

"I won't." Tom checked his watch. He had been away from the bar for too long. "I finish at nine tonight. Meet me in that field opposite. I don't want anyone to find out about this because gossip spreads, and I'll end up being banned from the library too."

"Ok."

Pleased to help, Tom hurried back inside. "What took you so long?" Moira asked, pouring a beer for Finn.

"He was chatting to the demon," Finn said, nodding his head and sipping his beer. "Just lovely Moira. Just lovely." He hobbled back to his table.

"You were chatting to the demon?" Moira repeated as Tom glared at the old man. "The soul stripper?"

"Yep. He was kicked out of the library yesterday. I was just asking about it."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. But that was enough, apparently."

Moira hummed a sad response and tied brown hair into a tight ponytail. "I wonder why he's sticking around."

"Maybe he just likes the area."

"Well, at least he likes the pub. Let's keep an extra close eye on the locals today."

Tom agreed. And after thirty minutes, Ezra entered to sit inside once the wind picked up. His usual spot in the corner of the pub was occupied, so he chose to sit at a table with two comfortable armchairs closer to the bar.

Every time Tom glanced over, Ezra was either looking down at the table, or looking in his direction. When he visited the bar for another drink, their encounter was a little less awkward. "Strongbow?" Tom asked before Ezra had the chance. He wanted to see his dark luring eyes, despite that being a demon's trait of temptation. He had expected to feel cold and uncomfortable when he showed his face outside. Tom had only been intrigued.

"Yes."

He poured him a pint, snubbing the locals who stopped their conversation to stare. Ezra had covered his demon mark again with thin black cloth. Tom wanted to say that he didn't have to hide it in their pub, or that he didn't need to sit with his hood up all the time, or that he shouldn't have had to sit in the rain because he didn't want to face judgement.

His voice was inaudible in a room full of loud hate.

Ezra returned to his table, and Tom kept pouring drinks and collecting glasses. He watched the clock like a hawk. Five in the evening soon reached six. The sun set outside yet the rain continued, and the wind began to howl. Six soon reached seven and eight, and then nine. His dad returned from an afternoon of watching football with his friends, half an hour late.

"Hey Tom," he greeted, taking a seat on the opposite side of the bar. "Been busy?"

Tom noticed the tulips he had bought. "Hey dad. And no not really."

Declan motioned towards Ezra who was still sitting silently, like he had been for almost five hours. "Any arguments?"

"Surprisingly no. I think the locals are getting used to him."

"That's a relief." Declan asked for a cup of tea as Moira rushed around the bar to give him a hug and a kiss. "Ah my darling wife."

"You're back later than promised," Moira said with a raised brow.

"Only because I bought you these!" Declan held up the flowers and Tom shook his head.

"He bought you those because he knew he would be home late." He walked around the bar, grabbing the tulips. "These are for me. You were supposed to take over my shift thirty minutes ago- not mums."

The locals all made low sounds as though they were in the audience at a play. Declan quickly leapt off the stool. "Thomas O'Connell!" he said loudly, entertaining the locals by bowing lowly. "Please accept my sincerest apology."

Tom fought back a smile. He paused for dramatic effect, staring his father up and down. "Learn how to tell the time, then I'll accept your apology," he said bluntly, and the locals all laughed and cheered as he left.

Tom was brutally hit with hard rain and wind so strong; he was almost blown off his feet. He ran around the back of the pub, entering through the staff door. He was already damp from the rain as he dumped the flowers on top of the wooden shoe-wrack and zipped up a waterproof coat.

Ezra had still been in the pub when he left, but now he had to meet him in the nearby field, hoping it wasn't suspicious that they left within the same five minutes. The rain hammered against the door, and the wind whistling loudly with each strong gust. He braced himself to run through the pub carpark and over the fence into farmer Joels field.

As he opened the door a large hand pressed against his chest, pushing him back inside. Ezrakhell stepped through the door with water running down his hood. "I'll keep this meeting short," a deep voice said. Ezra made no attempt to show his face. "Are you going to the library tomorrow?"

"Yes, in the morning. What book do you want?" Tom asked quietly, pressing his back into the coat hooks.

"The History of Wileshire Village."

"Alright. If it's not raining, I'll meet you in the field at ten with the book. If it is, be in the pub when we open at eleven. Locals don't really come in until midday. I'll find a way to give you the book then."

"Ok." Ezrakhell hovered for a moment. Rain and wind were the only noises to fill the silence. Tom was suddenly aware of how big Ezra was. A demon stood in their small coatroom, looming over Tom who wasn't short. Ezra filled up the space with his big, brawny stature. Tom started to form an escape plan if Ezra suddenly lived up to the demon's stereotype of unpredictable mood-swings, but Ezra mumbled a "Thanks," before slipping through the open door and disappearing into the night.

Tom exhaled, feeling guilty that he panicked in his presence. On his way upstairs to bed, he wondered where Ezrakhell went on a cold wet evening. He wondered if he had shelter, or if he disappeared to another part of the country, or another part of the world. Or if he sat all alone in the dark- waiting for the sun to rise.