Chapter 4 #2
“Nah. I get to go in when it’s not vampire o’clock. What a treat,” Cammie joked, pouring a cup of coffee and sliding it across the counter to Ramona. “You feeling okay?”
Ramona mumbled a thanks and clutched the mug gratefully. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Mm.” Cammie took a sip of her own coffee, not pushing further.
Before the silence could stretch too long, Ramona’s bedroom door opened.
Azareth emerged, looking somehow more put together than she had any right to after sitting in a chair all night.
She’d smoothed her hair back, the dark waves tamed and slick and perfect.
The suit was still rumpled, the shirt buttoned higher to her throat, but on her, every detail looked intentional. Expensive casual.
She didn’t say anything. Just stood in the doorway to the kitchen, surveying with dark, unreadable eyes.
The temperature seemed to drop.
Cammie glanced up, then did a double take. “Oh. Hi.” She looked to Ramona with wide-eyed amusement, like she’d just caught Ramona sneaking out a lover.
“Good morning,” Azareth said. Her voice was polite. Distant. The kind of tone that discouraged follow-up questions.
“This is my friend,” Ramona said quickly, before the silence could get weirder. “From out of town. She’s going to be here for a few days.”
“Cool.” Cammie waved. “I’m Cammie. One of the roommates.”
“I see.” Azareth didn’t offer her name. Didn’t move from the doorway. Just stood there like a particularly well-dressed statue.
Cammie looked at Ramona with wide eyes, then at Azareth, then back at her coffee. “Right. Well. I have to get to work.” She grabbed her to-go mug from the counter. “Nice to meet you.”
Azareth made a noncommittal hum in her throat, like she wasn’t quite sure the sentiment could be returned. Ramona shot her a glare and mouthed, Be nice.
Cammie left without lingering. The front door clicked shut behind her.
The moment she was gone, some of the tension in the kitchen eased. Not all of it. But enough that Ramona could breathe again.
“Could you be a little less… demonic, possibly?” Ramona muttered.
Felix’s door opened. He emerged with Gerald on his shoulder, already mid-sentence. “Did Kashvi burn something again? I swear I smell—” His voice broke off as he stared at Azareth with his mouth slightly open. “Oh. That’s not burnt toast.”
“What?” Ramona said.
“That smell.” Felix gestured vaguely at the room. “Like… someone just lit a match?” He glanced around.
Ramona hadn’t been able to put her finger on it, but Azareth did have a particular scent — like someone had just blown out a candle. Not unpleasant, just smoky and rich.
Something demonic. There was no way her roommates were buying that this wasn’t a demon.
Felix adjusted Gerald on his shoulder. The pigeon was staring at Azareth with unusual intensity. “I’m Felix. And this is Gerald.”
For the first time since entering the kitchen, something shifted in Azareth’s face. Not quite softening, but… changing. Her attention focused entirely on the pigeon. “Gerald,” she repeated quietly.
“Yeah. Found him with a broken wing a few years back.” Felix scratched Gerald’s head. “He’s kind of an asshole to most people, but—”
Gerald cooed. A soft, curious sound that Ramona had never heard him make before.
Azareth took a single step forward. Stopped. “May I approach?”
Felix blinked. “Uh. Sure?”
“I wasn’t asking you.” Azareth crossed the kitchen slowly, deliberately. She slowed at an appropriate distance away — close enough to see Gerald properly, far enough to not invade Felix’s space. Her movements were careful. Respectful.
“Good morning, sir,” she said to the pigeon. Her voice had gone quiet. Reverent, almost.
Gerald tilted his head, studying her with one bright eye.
Azareth reached to slide one dark-tipped nail down Gerald’s chest. Ramona had never seen anyone but Felix touch Gerald before. “Columba livia. Descendant of birds that carried messages for emperors. Navigated by the stars. Genius little creatures.” Azareth paused. “Wow, you’re so beautiful.”
Gerald puffed up slightly.
“He likes compliments,” Felix said, glancing between Azareth and Ramona with a bit of amusement in his confused look.
Azareth kept her eyes on Gerald. “May I?”
Felix raised an eyebrow. “May you…?”
Gerald bowed — bowed! — his head and stepped onto Azareth’s outstretched hand. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she stared down at him.
Azareth held very still, letting the pigeon settle on her palm. She didn’t coo at him or speak in baby talk. Just regarded him with something that looked like utmost respect.
“You’ve seen a great deal,” she said quietly, as if Gerald could understand her. Perhaps he could. Her eyes seemed unfocused. “Survived what should have broken you. That takes strength.”
Gerald cooed again, softer this time.
The moment stretched, Azareth standing in the middle of a shabby kitchen, holding a rescue pigeon with the same care most people reserved for religious artifacts.
“Okay,” Ramona said slowly. “Well. This is Felix, and Felix, this is—” She paused. She couldn’t just introduce this demon as Azareth. She needed some kind of undercover persona. Something distinctly more human. “This is my friend Zara.”
Azareth’s gaze snapped to her. Something flickered across her face. Surprise, maybe.
Azareth — Zara — was very still. Just staring at Ramona with an expression that was hard to read. Then, quietly: “Zara.”
“Yeah. She’s from out of town,” Ramona began explaining, giving the same excuse to Felix as she had to Cammie. “She’s crashing in my room for a bit.”
“A friend.” Felix gave her a small, knowing grin. “Hmm. Bit of a small room to be crashing in.”
Ramona resisted the urge to stomp on his toes.
Zara gently transferred Gerald back to Felix’s shoulder. The pigeon cooed mournfully, staring back at the demon.
“You can visit him whenever,” Felix said. “He’s clearly smitten.”
“It would be my honor,” Zara said with solemnity.
Felix looked just as puffed up as Gerald by the compliment.
Posey emerged from her plant room, soil under her fingernails as always. “Did someone say we have a guest?”
“This is Zara,” Ramona said. “She’s visiting for a few days. Weeks. She’s from…” Ramona waved uselessly in the air, noticing that no one was really paying her much attention in light of the gorgeous woman standing in the room.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Posey.” She smiled, warm and genuine. “Any friend of Ramona’s is welcome. There are vegan muffins on the counter if you’re hungry.”
Zara glanced at the muffins, then back to Posey, making a noncommittal sound.
“Well, if you change your mind.” Posey grabbed one for herself, retreating. “Here’s hoping Princess Buttercup doesn’t try to steal my second breakfast, too.”
“Princess Buttercup is a plant.” Ramona shook her head as Zara’s mouth opened, then closed. “It’s better we don’t get into all the lore just yet.”
Posey disappeared back into her plant room, leaving Ramona, Felix, Zara, and Gerald standing in the kitchen.
“Well,” Felix said. “Nice meeting you. See you around.” He gave an unabashed wink to Ramona, then a thumbs-up, and mouthed, She’s hot. Good job.
Ramona briefly considered if dying from embarrassment would be enough to break the tether, or if they’d just become tethered in Hell. Did Zara have roommates? Surely Hell would be an improvement.
Once the room was empty, Ramona lowered her voice. “Okay, you may have been right. They might not have noticed the whole demon thing immediately.”
“Mortal, are you trying to apologize for doubting me?”
“Definitely not.” Ramona rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “I have to go to work,” she said.
“Yes, Mortal. I’m aware.” Zara was already straightening her jacket. “Which means I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t just—”
“The tether.” Zara said it like she was explaining basic math to a child. “Unless your workplace is in this apartment, I’ll need to accompany you.”
“Right. Of course.” Ramona rubbed her temples as they returned to Ramona’s room.
“Marcus isn’t in on Mondays, so you should be fine.
If he does come in, just… browse. Look at books.
Don’t talk to Marcus. Don’t mention Hell.
And for the love of any shred of sanity left in this world, don’t tell anyone who you really are. ”
“I’m a demon, not an idiot.”
“Don’t…” Ramona quickly glanced over her shoulder.
She turned back to Zara and scolded in a whisper.
“Stop saying the word demon. You’re from across the pond, not across the realm.
Got it? No demon talk.” Ramona grabbed her bag, started shoving things into it.
Wallet. Keys. Phone charger. The grimoire, because she didn’t trust leaving it where someone might find it. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Likely.”
Ramona glared at Zara. “You could try to be more reassuring.”
“I could,” Zara agreed. “But that would be dishonest.”
Ramona sighed, pulling on her coat. “Come on. We’re already late.”