The village library was in a small building that had once been a place of worship for the angels. Tom had always liked the familiarity of the building, and the smell of books that reminded him of school. He found the book he was looking for in the first ten minutes of being there. "The history of Wileshire Village," he read aloud, turning the book over to see an old photograph of the village water fountain.

He headed back through the rows of bookshelves and stopped at the reception desk. "Hi Haisley," he said with a warm smile. He had known the librarian all his life. She used to read to their class through primary school. She also ran a book club that he was once a part of, and she helped schedule study zones when he was at college.

"Tom O'Connell!" Haisley beamed, looking up with surprised green eyes that wrinkled at the corners. She pushed her glasses up onto her head. Brown curls with greying roots were scraped out of her face. "I haven't seen you step foot in this library for years!"

"Has it been years already?" he said with a polite chuckle.

"Yep. The last time you were in here, you were showing me your A-Level results." She tapped her own temple with a dark purple nail. "You're a smart one Thomas. That brain needs to be put to good use."

The last four years had gone by so fast, but Tom felt a little ashamed to have nothing to show for it, other than improved fighting skills and excellent small talk. "Maybe one day. I saw that guy handing out leaflets for the online learning stuff."

"Did you take one?"

"I did."

Haisley nodded knowingly. "Well, if you have questions, I know quite a lot about it."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you." Tom handed her the book. He had rehearsed what he would say if she asked why he was reading about the village he had lived in all his life. He didn't have to make an intricate lie, he just had to lie simply.

"Oooh, a very informative read," Haisley said, flicking through the pages of the history book.

Tom checked his watch. He needed to leave otherwise he would be late to meet Ezra. "Yeah uh, I just thought I'd catch up on stuff so I can talk to tourists in the pub. You know, for the village fair coming up and everything."

"What an excellent idea! I should come for a drink soon. How's your mother?"

Tom knew she would never drink in a demon-friendly pub. He was glad she believed his little lie and edged closer to the door each time she asked about his family's health and what they were all doing, and whether his sister had moved into a new house. Then the topic changed into lovely cottages that a friend was selling ten miles away.

Tom had pursed his lips and stood by the door listening and nodding and smiling through the pain, until the door opened into his back.

"Goodness, I'm terribly sorry!" a soft voice said.

Tom knew it was an angel before he even turned around. He felt his presence wrapping him in a calm warmth. All tension left his body as he smiled and said, "No worries. I was standing in the way."

The angel was an old man with a thick head of silver hair, papery thin skin that wrinkled without him moving a muscle, leaky eyes, and a drooping neck that wobbled with each step. He wore a cream robe that was tied at the waist and soaking up the morning dew on the bottom.

Old angels were highly respected because they had lived for so long. For every ten years that Tom lived, an angel's body aged only one year. For demons, they aged one year every five years. Nobody knew why, but humans had always been frustrated to have such short lives compared to them, especially the demons.

The angel floated by, and Tom stepped out into the cobbled street. The serenity died down but left his mind as clear as the morning air. He checked his watch and hurried down the winding country roads. Sheep yelled in the distance, blackbirds cawed in the tall bushes and trees.

Tom quickly pressed himself into a hedge when a roar from a speeding car boomed round the bend. Cal's father sped down the road with music blasting from open windows. Tom covered his eyes from all the dry dirt that followed. "Slow down you prick!" he yelled after him, throwing a stone that had no hope of reaching the car.

Tom grumbled more inaudible words, wiping down his coat. He turned back the way he was heading and hesitated when a dark figure stood only a few metres away. "Ezra, hey," he said, walking up to him with a smile. "Here you go." He handed the demon the book, who tucked it into his black denim jacket. His ring finger started to itch. Tom noticed the barbed wire appearing around it in black ink.

"Thank you." Ezra wore a hoodie underneath the jacket. A black hood covered most of his face, but Tom could tell by his tone that he was grateful.

"Um so, I'm working in the pub today. I can let you in early. We don't open for another hour. Might be nice for you to sit in peace without the locals staring." Tom got no response from Ezra, but he followed him up the road towards the pub.

His dad was putting parasols in wooden tables when they walked down the path. Declan stopped to say hello, though Tom spotted his surprise that a demon was following behind him. "Where have you been?" he asked.

"Oh uh- " Tom rubbed his ring finger. "Just out for a walk. I'm gonna let the soul stripper in early."

"Alright," he said and smiled in Ezra's direction. "I've just brewed some coffee. Do you want one?"

Ezra didn't answer at first. His head moved in Tom's direction and then back to Declan. "Me?" he asked.

"Yes, you," Declan said with a chuckle.

"Oh." Ezra awkwardly shoved hands into his pockets. "Ok."

"I'll make it." Tom hurried to the door, holding it open for Ezra who hovered by the bar. In the mornings, the pub always smelt of brewed coffee, surface polish, and their musty hoover. "You know that you don't have to keep your hood up in here. Or you don't have to cover your demon mark," he said, pouring three cups of coffee. He let Ezra pour his own milk and choose how much sugar he wanted.

"It's just easier," Ezra mumbled, sipping the drink before putting more sugar in it.

"Well, just don't feel like you have to hide in here," Tom said, going to the corner Ezra liked to sit in, and taking the stools and chairs off the table, wiping it, and placing down a coaster.

He left Ezra to read, thankful that his plan worked. He just hoped that no locals saw him at the library and wanted to ask about it. Village life could be slow, so anything slightly out of the ordinary was gossip worthy.

It was almost midday when their first human customer entered. Cal flopped against the bar, sighing dramatically into the wood. "I'm so hungover," he moaned.

Tom chuckled. "Why are you here and not festering in bed?"

"Mum wouldn't stop complaining about how I'm wasting the day." Cal looked around the empty pub, stopping in Ezra's direction. "Oh, the demon has books again."

Tom didn't panic. He could trust Cal with anything, like the time he had smashed the new bull statue for the Glass Horns pub when he was playing football with Cal. They pretended like a local had probably fell on it on the way home. Or the infinite rants about Gerry and how much he hated him and wished his sister would divorce him. Cal was one of the only people who knew Tom was bisexual, and the only person who knew he had once been sick all over one of farmer Joels sheep. "I got him it," he said quietly. "I went to the library this morning because I just thought it was unfair. Don't tell anyone because I'll be banned from the library too."

Cal nodded along to his words. "My lips are sealed. What book did he want?"

"The history of Wileshire."

Cal hummed with interest, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Maybe he's planning to move here or something. You'll finally have a demon regular if he does."

"I think it would be good for the locals." Tom glanced over. Ezra had stopped reading and was looking in their direction. Maybe his hearing really is as good as the rumours, he thought, smiling before Ezra looked back down. "Oh, Cal," Tom said before he disappeared upstairs to fester in Tom's room rather than his own. "Can you have a word with your dad. He's a maniac on the roads."

"Sure, later," he mumbled, dragging his exhausted body through the door.

As the hours went by, Tom served the locals. He served beer, cider, spirits, wine, and the occasional jager bomb. Tom was getting bored. Ezra was hunched over the book seeming to have forgotten his surroundings, locals were too hyped about a football match to care about him, and his dad was deep in a football discussion with Finn when an angel entered the pub.

Everyone stopped talking immediately to stare. The angel was a tall woman with brown hair down to her waist. She bowed and looked around with placid eyes, projecting her serenity. Her gaze eventually stopped on Ezra, and to Tom's surprise, she walked over to him. "You're needed, soul stripper," she said sternly.

Ezra got up without a moment of hesitation. He followed the angel through the pub, and they were gone as quickly as the angel arrived.

"I wonder what that was about," Tom said, looking back to the table and the full glass of lemonade left behind.

"Soul strippers can be summoned to places were there's a lot of evil. He'll need to take the bad parts of the soul before the angels can take the rest," Declan explained. "Something serious must have happened somewhere. But I wonder why the angel visited him first rather than using his full name to summon him." Declan drummed his finger on the bar, in time to the music. "I wonder what his name is. I don't think I know any demon names."

Tom looked away, rubbing his ring finger. "Neither do I," he lied for the second time that day.