"I heard that soul strippers were doomed to see the worst in humanity, or something," Scotty said, sipping his pint through a straw.

Tom looked at his wound dressing under his chin and on the side of his neck. He felt no remorse. Scotty was violent first, the demon had simply defended herself when she jammed the glass into his throat, yet Scotty was still enjoying life while the demon had her soul stripped. "Where'd you hear that?" he asked.

"Read it in a book," Scotty replied. Every now and then, conveniently whenever anyone new entered the pub, he would groan and tenderly touch his wounds. Then he would tell whoever was listening that he had been brutally attacked by a demon. Tom's patience had been rolled thinner with each retelling.

"You can read?" Finn asked with fake surprise. everyone around them laughed. "No but seriously, I heard the same thing about soul strippers. Demons get that role because of hideous crimes they've committed."

Tom shivered, especially when his dad nodded his head too, and said, "I heard the same. And I heard that they're soul strippers pretty much for the rest of their lives."

"Well, that's a pretty grim punishment," Tom mumbled.

"Maybe they committed pretty grim crimes."

That night, he went to bed thinking about Ezra, and had horrible dreams of demons invading the village. They burnt most of it down to the ground and were on their way to the pub to do the same before Tom woke in a cold sweat with a thumping heart. He sat up, looking around his dark room. He had forgotten to shut his curtains and dawn had almost bid the stars farewell. He got up for some water and was greeted by Gerry, who was leaning next to the sink with a coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. His orange tie was wonky, and the top button of his shirt was undone.

"You're up early for once," Gerry said, watching him fill a glass with water. "It'll do you some good. I get up at this time even on weekends. I get more done than most people because of it."

"I don't need to get up at this time," Tom mumbled.

"You should. It's good for you, and you'll get more done."

"No."

"Seriously, if you got up earlier, you'd have more time to get on with your life because you don't really do much other than stand behind that bar all day. It'll improve your mood and-"

"If it's so good for you, then why are you such a miserable twat every day?" Tom regretted it the moment he said it. There was no reason for him to attack him like that, but maybe it was Gerry's condescending tone, or his smug smirk, or the way he could tell that Gerry was leading up to a backhanded compliment.

Gerry folded his newspaper, shaking his head. "I'm just trying to help you, Tom. You have no goals, no ambitions. You'll get lazy."

"How about you focus on your own life . . . like maybe that new house you said you'd buy two years ago." Tom left, incredibly irritated. He changed into black adidas shorts, a black t-shirt, and a grey waterproof jacket with reflective stripes down the side. He wore white trainers, grabbed his phone and his headphones and checked his appearance in the mirror. His mousy brown hair was a mess but flattened under his headphones. His blue eyes were tired, but only from his blunt awakening. His pale skin was blotching red over his cheeks, but only from the anger from his conversation with Gerry.

He burnt his frustration out on an early morning run.

Hazy mornings were his favourite, especially when he was up early enough to see farmer Joel walking around the perimeter of his field. Tom waved and laughed when Joel stuck up his middle finger and turned away. He jogged down the country roads and through the village. Shops were shut, as were blinds and curtains. Not a soul disturbed him, so he continued through a wooden gate and up one of the trails that ventured over a small stream and up a hill. He stopped halfway, so out of breath that he regretted starting it. But once he was at the top, he looked around in awe.

Their village was surrounded by a patchwork blanket of fields, different shades of greens as far as the eye could see. Each field was separated by trees, bushes or fences. Sheep and cows were small dots from so high up. The sky was a flurry of fluffy clouds that were turning orange towards the horizon.

Tom sat on his jacket and watched the sunrise. The first ray of sunshine on his face was like the fingers of an angel stroking his cheek. He leaned back, closing his eyes, forgetting about the dream that had woken him in such a state.

He wasn't working that day, so he went home to change into black jeans and a fur lined denim jacket. He returned to the village and got a sandwich at the shop where Cal worked. He gave Tom a discount and he took his food back to the hill. The clouds at cleared and the sun beat down on him, but it wasn't warm.

Tom crossed his legs and watched a fox scurry the outline of a sheep field until something suddenly blocked his view. He jumped and dropped his sandwich in the grass. Ezrakhell towered over him, casting him in a cold shadow. "Uh . . . hi," Tom said.

Ezra stepped back but placed the book by Tom's crossed legs. "I'm done with this. I need you to get me another one."

"You read that fast." Tom picked his sandwich back up. "What's the other one called?"

"History of demons and angels in the area. If you can't get it specific to this village, then just the county will do."

Tom frowned. "Can I ask why you're reading about that?"

"No."

"Alright." Tom stared quizzically at the demon when he hovered awkwardly. "Can you tell me a bit about the history book? Just in case the librarian asks about it."

Ezra turned away to look at the view. He hesitated like he wanted to leave. Tom had done him a favour, so he sat a few metres away on the grass, folding his legs underneath him. "Your pub was once one of the only butchers in the village before it was sold to your great-great-grandfather and turned into a pub."

"Yes," Tom said, nodding. "I already knew that. Anything else? Maybe I should just read it too." He flicked through the pages, stopping at all the old black and white photographs.

"The Brellham's who own the farm are the oldest family in the area."

"Yeah, I knew that too."

Ezra looked out towards the blanket of fields. "About a hundred years ago, in the last great war, the only place in the village that was damaged was the angels place of worship. The statue of the angel from the roof was blown off and crushed the water fountain, and a girl who was sitting by the edge. The building was then turned into a library and the water fountain was rebuilt with a golden statue of a girl in the middle."

Tom hadn't heard that story before. "What chapter was that on?" he asked, flicking back and forth through the pages.

"It's not in the book."

"Oh." Tom studied Ezra, who quietly plucked strands of grass out of the ground. His hood still covered his face. He wished he could see his expression. "You've been to this village before?"

"A long time ago."

"Are you now planning on staying a while?"

Ezra shrugged.

"Well, it would be nice to get to know a demon. Having a demon-friendly pub doesn't mean we have demon friends. Like you said, you never stick around for long enough."

"Why are you so accepting of demons?" Ezra asked.

"You're not that much different to humans. I know that you're here to tempt us or whatever, but you're still sharing this earth with us. Despite being around you, I still have free will. You also need to eat and sleep and drink. Maybe you're not as social as humans, but kindness can probably make your day better." Tom pursed his lips when Ezra didn't say anything. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes."

"Good." Tom leaned back on his palms and looked up at the sky. "You know, our pub hasn't always been a demon-friendly pub. But this village hasn't always been so cruel to demons. Demons have always been welcome; it's only recently we've needed signs to specify who exactly is welcome."

"I know."

"It's shit." Tom closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his face. "About twelve years ago, when me, my best friend Cal, and my dad were walking home from school, a dog got loose and scared a heard of cows. We climbed a tree to get out of their way, but the dog was trampled on and killed. A soul stripper visited first, but there were no bad parts of the dog's soul to take. She still waited until the angel arrived. Then she helped us down from the tree. As the demon escorted us out of the field, she assured us that the soul was reliving some of the dog's happiest memories. Ever since then, I always really respected soul strippers." Ezra didn't say anything for a while, and Tom wondered if he was still there. He glanced down, and Ezra was staring at him. He had pulled his hood back, and he could see his dark eyes. Tom blushed at the thought of Ezra wanting to have a better look at him.

Despite his pink cheeks, he locked their gaze. Ezra was very handsome. But regardless of his sharp features and big build, something was cute about him. His eyes were big and curious, and shy. Tom tilted his head, and Ezra looked away, pulling his hood back over his face.

"I'm sorry that you feel like you have to hide," he said earnestly.

Ezra quickly stood up, turning his back to him. "I need to go."

Tom let the conversation turn into loose threads. "Alright. I'll get you your book tomorrow. Meet me here at three in the afternoon."

"Ok."

Ezra disappeared right in front of him. Tom had been looking at his back, then he was looking at the distant fields. He glanced around even though he had seen him leave. He wondered what that was like, to just disappear from a moment as though you were never really in it.

He picked the book up from the grass and ventured down the hill. The library was already closed. But he was eager to return the book tomorrow, and pick up a new one, just so he could talk some more to the soul stripper- Ezrakhell.