Convoke

Chapter 3

This demon was different to the soul stripper. He had the same barber wire tattoo around his neck, but he was shorter and wearing a t-shirt in the bitter March air. He was younger too- maybe fifteen years old. Tom knew he had been around for a lot longer than fifteen years.

"Do you want to call it a night?" he asked, and everyone turned. Tom shivered from the demon's intense presence. Phil and Torin moved so he could put the rubbish bags in the bin. Tom was unsure whether to just leave. If anyone was badly hurt, he would end up blaming himself. "Seriously," he said when Phil threw insults at the demon. "Just go home."

"You go home, Tom. We can handle this," Torin muttered.

"What are you even arguing about?"

"I was on my way to the pub. I thought it closed at one in the morning," the demon said, pressing tight fists to his sides. "But these two won't let me go on."

"We close two hours earlier on a Sunday, but we open at eleven tomorrow morning, so feel free to come for a drink then." Tom spoke to him as if he spoke to any other human, which didn't sit well with Phil.

"Fucking leave it Tom!" he spat, stepping towards the demon.

Tom decided to intervene. He pushed Phil back, who stumbled further than usual in his drunken body. "You have a new-born. Why are you being this reckless?" he hissed.

"Demons have ruined everything!" Phil yelled dramatically, and on the silent road surrounded by fields, his voice travelled far.

"Phil has recently lost his house to gambling. Demons tempted him, so it's their fault," Torin explained.

"You're blaming demons for your gambling problems?" Tom scoffed. "They might tempt people to do mischief, but you're free to make the better choice. Fighting with this demon who has done nothing wrong won't bring your house back. You're drunk and emotional, just go home, both of you."

"Who the fuck are you calling emotional?" Phil slurred.

Here we go, Tom thought. "Anger is an emotion."

"You know what? I've never liked you!"

Tom had heard it all before. Nobody ever liked him when they were drunk and being disciplined. "Just leave. You don't want this."

"You're really starting to piss me off O'Connell."

Tom glanced at the demon, who stubbornly stood his ground. "Now would be a good time to call it a night too," he said, but the demon refused to budge. Tom sighed heavily. "Guys, it's a Sunday night, don't you have-" The air left his lungs when Phil punched him in the chest. Tom winced and fell back against the bin.

Torin tried to punch the demon who was slick and ducked. The demon grabbed Torin's arm and bent it around his back until his shoulder cracked. He cried out and Phil turned to help, but Tom grabbed his ankle and he faceplanted a muddy puddle. While he was down, Tom grabbed Torin and pushed him away from the demon, who was too fired-up to stop now.

Tom was his next target, but he had grown up in a pub where fights were nightly entertainment. He blocked the punch- twisting and turning until the demon was tied up in his own limbs. Then tom kick him back. "I don't want to fight you. Leave while nobody is seriously injured!" he warned.

The demon's dark eyes flicked behind him, and Tom felt a blunt force in the back of his head. He collapsed to his knees with a searing pain dotting his vision. Torin and Phil stepped around him to get to the demon. Tom scrunched his eyes shut, begging for an angel to step in and intervene.

He nearly voiced a thank you when he heard a thud of someone landing behind him. As he looked up, another demon loomed over him. For the second time that weekend, Tom thought to himself, I don't want to die this way! The demon with the hood covering his face, but not enough to hide his scar, turned away from Tom to protect the other demon.