Page 2 of Hooked on a Demon
A little bit later, Declan’s flipping through a five-year-old magazine he found on the table, sitting in an uncomfortable chair at the doctor’s office. Looking around, he’s not sure how they manage to stay in practice. They are always running at least half an hour behind, the staff is miserable, and he’s definitely gone into an exam room before with another patient’s file still on the screen. If he ran his shop like this doctor’s office, they would have closed after the first month.
Eventually, his name is called, and he follows the nurse back. What feels like ten minutes later, the doctor finally comes in.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grace. How are you doing today?” she asks.
“Good, good. Thanks. And you?”
“The same,” she replies, taking a seat on the little rolling stool by the desk. “What can I help you with?”
“The usual,” he replies, rolling his sleeve up. He doesn’t miss the stare she gives him as he does so, and while she’s certainly attractive, he does his best not to mix business with pleasure. It took him a while to find a doctor who was comfortable dealing with demons and had knowledge of the differences in their bodies, so he definitely wasn’t going to sleep with her and leave him with having to find a new doctor. Instead, he ignores the ogles and keeps his interactions as neutral as possible to avoid any confusion.
“Standard panel?”
“Yep.”
She nods and gathers the supplies before coming over to stand in front of him. She wraps the tourniquet around his arm and waits for the vein to appear. As she takes his blood sample, he senses her need to say something and her growing hesitation.
“Say what you want to say, doc,” he prompts.
“I mean no disrespect, Mr. Grace. But, as a doctor, I feel it is my role to note you come in here pretty regularly, getting tests done for sexually transmitted infections.”
“Yes.”
“While I appreciate your attention to your health, I do have to wonder if you would be better served, uh, reducing your activity.”
He breathes in slowly, trying to find an appropriate way to tell her to mind her own fucking business. Fighting the angered demon within, he says, “Thank you for your concern. I will take it under advisement.” His voice comes out harder than he intended, but frankly, he’s tired of being judged for how he chooses to spend his time. Every partner consents and, as fully-formed adults, he and whatever companion he’s with have the right to make their own choices.
She nods again, not pushing him any further. She finishes up a moment later and sends him on his way, letting him know the results will be forwarded in a couple of days.
* * *
After changing out of his grubby shop clothes, he grabs a cold beer from the fridge and flops down on the couch next to Buckley. Wisps of smoke unravel from him, spreading around the room as they relax, releasing the tension he’s gathered throughout the day. He loves being a demon and all the power that comes with it. But he’d be lying if he said that it also wasn’t exhausting. Holding his demon at bay all day, staying in his human form, keeping his smoke inside. It’s a lot to manage. So when he gets home, he likes to let his power out, allowing it to stretch and relax as he does, which is why one of the wisps hovers over Buckley, petting him absent-mindedly. Buckley, like the ridiculous dog he is, rolls over, exposing his stomach to the smoke to provide premium access for optimal belly rubs.
He drops his head back on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. A loudthunkhas him cracking an eye open, looking to the side of the room where a tendril of smoke has knocked over a plant stand, spreading dirt all over the floor. “Hey. Dipshit. Knock it off,” he tells the tendril. The point rises and turns toward him. If it had a face, he’s sure it would be giving him a mischievous grin. Rather than argue with it, he draws it back in. Calling the magic to return to its base. It tries to resist the command, stretching and wriggling forward, but eventually relents at Declan’s insistence.
Placing his beer on a coaster on the coffee table, Declan gets a broom from the closet and cleans up the mess. After his precious marble pothos has been righted and its dirt replaced, he settles back on the couch, picking up the remote to watch last night’s episode ofLiars & Thieves, his favorite competition, following a group of selected liars attempting to deceive their way into winning a pot of money. Declan’s phone vibrates next to him as the truth-seekers finally manage to eliminate a liar. Pulling it out, he sees a message from his best friend, Everest Oaks.
Everest
Hey loser
Are you done moping?
Declan
I’m not moping
But you are a loser
Fuck off.
Never!!
You’d be lost without me.
That’s debatable
Anyway, what’s up?
