Demons and Magic

CHAPTER 13: So, what’s the plan?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alastair said and slammed a hand on the counter, startling the old lady that was their only customer that day.

Nathan gave Alastair a huge frown before giving the woman an apologetic look, smiling in a very awkward way as she fixed her lopsided glasses. “Well, unfortunately for you, Alastair, I am not kidding. You seriously don’t expect me to leave now, do you? I’ve got a job to take care of and I still have to go to school.”

“You always say that! What good would all that be if you’re dead, then, huh? You promised me you’d come with me this week!”

“Well, then, I take it back,” Nathan hissed back and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Alastair, I’m really sorry. But I’ve got a scholarship board to impress and missing school for — oh, I don’t know, an eternity maybe? — would be the death of me.”

“That would be the death of you?” She leaned close to him, the dark gray specks in her eyes glowing with unfathomable power. “Then, why don’t we make that come true?”

Alastair attempted to grab him by the collar but he had effortlessly slapped her hand away, his eyes not even showing the least bit of fear that would’ve made her day. It was odd. Or at least it was compared to the reaction she got from their past arguments where she had shown off a pair of wings.

“What’s wrong with you?” she said, watching as the mark on her hand from where he had hit her turn red.

Nathan gazed down at it and a tiny sliver of an emotion betrayed his eyes. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He attempted to hold her hand, but like what he did, she slapped his hand away — this time, ten times stronger that all three of them that were in the store heard a faint sound of c***k that most probably came from his wrist.

The old woman was too shocked by it that she decided to drop her basket and go, leaving Nathan both in pain and in the fear that she would tell the manager about it. Alastair was just standing there with a smug look.

“Does it hurt?” she asked back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nathan gritted his teeth. “Look, the fortune cookie I had this morning clearly says that good fortune will run into me today—”

“I hope it’s a bus.”

“—but obviously, that piece of sh*t wasn’t at all accurate considering you’re still here. So, why don’t you do me a favor and shut your damn mouth before I throw you out on the streets, you scrawny midget!”

“How dare you?”

“No! How dare you!”

“Oh, shut up, you pontificating jackass. You lower the IQ of the entire street. And that’s saying a lot considering there’s about four hundred of us.”

“You asswipe!”

“Oh, bring it on, m*therf*cker!”

“You midget! Any shorter and you’ll probably fade out of existence!” Nathan hissed and threw his jacket on the counter, hitting Alastair on the face with its sleeves.

“Oh, really? Well, tell you what, you’re the sort of man people immigrate to avoid. Too much of an asshole in fact that the only place you’re ever invited is outside.”

“I’m offended!”

“Well, then, that makes two of us!”

“This is why I don’t like you!”

“Oh, please. What’s not to like?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Everything?”

“What is going on here?” Bryce Rancher’s voice rang through the entire store and Nathan turned to the door with eyes as wide as saucers. “Mrs. Waller, the old woman who lives next door, said that you two have been fighting.”

“No s**t, Sherlock,” Alastair deadpanned and Nathan scrambled to put a hand on her mouth.

“I’m really sorry about that, sir. It was just that … you know. Alastair can sometimes be really hard to deal with.”

“Well, whatever that is, Nathan, I need you to be professional about it—”

“Like the minimum wage you give him?”

“—and make sure that your LQ isn’t on the way. She said it scared her and she probably would be shopping in the next town over from now on.”

“What a load of bullshit—”

“Alastair!” Nathan hissed in her ears and gave Bryce an apologetic look.

He just sighed as he massaged his temples, the books in his hands slowly slipping. “That’s it, Alastair. I need you to stop bothering Nathan so from now on, you’re banned from my store.”

“As if I wanted to stay here,” she mumbled again and Nathan almost cursed under his breath.

“Bryce— I mean, Sir. I promise we won’t fight again but she really can’t be away for long. You know, she might … I don’t know, she might burn the city down or something.”

“I don’t want her in my store.”

“Trust me, I don’t want her with me, either. But she really has to stay.”

“Then, she stays outside.”

“At the front patio?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s cold.”

“I don’t care. If you two are gonna be fighting all night, she might as well stay there. No talking, no sign language, no morse code, and don’t you dare try anything funny while I’m in the campus, understood?” Bryce raised an eyebrow at him while he gazes out at the glass door where the patio is, its wooden chairs damp from the rain even though huge umbrellas had covered it.

Nathan finally sighed and looked up. “But what if it rains?”

“She’ll be fine. Her car’s parked out front. She can just stay there for the mean time.”

He nodded and turned to Alastair who would no doubt be plotting for their deaths. “Al?”

“f**k off,” she said and started walking away, grabbing a large bag of chips from the shelf before sitting on the empty chair out front.

“You know, for people as messy as the two of you, I wasn’t at the least expecting for you to care for her,” Bryce commented as they both watched her whip out her phone, her feet propped up on the table in front of her.

“That’s because I don’t.”

“Really?” he said in an incredulous tone and shook his head. “If you say so. But that bag of chips is coming out of your paycheck. Watch after the store and don’t let her get a reaction from you.”

Nathan just sighed as he walked away with a satisfied look on his face, ignoring Alastair who was now probably calling upon the wrath of the Seven Princes of Hell upon him.

“This is gonna be a long day.”

···

“Do you have a plan?” Castiel whispered under his breath as he watched Alastair pelt a tennis ball around on the unsuspecting passersby who would look frantically for the source, ultimately blaming those with dogs on leashes.

Alastair turned to him with a blank look. “Of course I have a plan. You just won’t agree with it.”

“I already told you! You can’t kill the boy!”

“He’s not a boy anymore! The dude’s f*****g old. And besides, it’s not that I can’t. It’s just that you bloody pigeons won’t let me.”

“Bloody pigeons?” Castiel gritted his teeth at the insult and decided to sit on the chair across from her to stop her from throwing balls she conjured out of thin air. “He’s not old, he’s just seventeen. So, technically, you’re older than him. Way older in fact considering that you’re already a thousand years old.”

“Excuse me, but I actually am just a teenager in demon time. You’re the one that’s old. In human time, you’re probably like … what? A hundred years old?”

“Will you stop?”

“You started it.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Nathan asked as he peeked at her through the small gap he made on the glass door and glanced at the direction she was talking to.

Alastair pointed at the small earpiece stuck on her left ear while looking at him like he’s the uncultured swine between them. Of course, no one was on the other line.

Humans just don’t see angels the way she can.

“Who are you talking to, then?”

“Definitely not myself,” she deadpanned and continued pelting balls across the street, this time, hitting a bald man that looks like he eats weights for breakfast.

“No, seriously, though. Who’s on the other line? Is that Warren?”

“Who the hell is Warren?”

“Oh.” He looked relieved. “Okay, go on. I’ll just uh … scrub the floors here or something.”

Alastair just scoffed. “Panini head.”

“So … as I was asking you. What the hell is your plan?”

Alastair turned to Castiel again, heaving out a huge enough sigh that she feared she might’ve caused a tornado somewhere in Kansas. “I told you already. It’s either we kill him, or I persuade him to go with me. Which I shouldn’t since, you know … after that small persuasive speech I did back in the old days? Technically, I’m more or less banned from influencing the humans now.”

“And by persuasive speech, you mean, getting Adolf Hitler to wipe almost the entirety of the Jews in his time?”

“Yes, and no.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I did talk to him. But no, I didn’t tell him to kill the Jews. In fact, I even told him that he shouldn’t. After all, the most loyal buyer of his failed paintings was a Jew.”

“Then, why’d he killed them?”

“How the hell should I know? He probably took my words as reverse psychology. I’m a demon, you know? Most people expect the worse from me.”

“As they should.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh, please.” Castiel rolled his eyes at her and she smirked back, making a guy that was just randomly passing by blush in the thought that she was smiling at him. “I gotta go. If you aren’t planning to do anything about that assignment of yours, I think you’ll need help.”

“It would be great if you brought Damien with you. If there’s anyone who could help, it’s him.”

“Yeah, right. As if Earth needed another moron to run the show.”

“A bit rude to say for an angel.”

“Tell that to Archangel Raziel’s halo that he used as a basketball ring.”

Alastair merely laughed. “Touché.”