Convoke

Chapter 11

"What, no comment?" Cal asked. The pub was quiet because of last night's fight. The locals who usually congregated around the bar had been banned, apart from Finn, but he sat glumly at the other end of the pub because he was all alone, tucked away at a square dark wood table, facing a large painting of a bull.

Tom still made sure that their conversation was private. "I said shut up," he hissed.

Cal laughed into his glass. "Anyway, you've got a cracking bruise across your nose. I heard there was a big fight last night. Are you okay?"

Tom sighed and propped his elbow up onto a beer mat. "I woke up feeling like my head had been hit by a train."

Cal unzipped his coat, nodding. "Poor you." He had one of those voices that sounded sarcastic unless he really meant it. He had one of those faces that looked unamused unless he was smiling.

Tom puffed out a breath and tried not to drop his head on the dark marble top of the wooden bar, wondering how he would get through another four hours of staring at their horrible red flowery carpet, mismatched tables and chairs, or the white walls with lots of photos and artworks of bulls. He doubted that the pub would get much busier with half of their regulars barred. He knew his parents wanted to be strict and ban them for months, but they also needed the money. Most of the locals would trickle back in soon enough. Too soon for Tom's liking.

"So, who started the fight last night?"

Tom explained it how his father had explained it. "One demon entered by himself, two more entered an hour later. Because the locals were ruffled by the first one, they just all started yelling abuse at the other two, then suddenly it was a fight. My dad said the demons were violent first, but I don't doubt that they were provoked enough to get that angry."

"Everyone knows demons have anger issues; they're just hardwired that way. The last thing I would do is provoke one. Must be so shit to lose control of your emotions like that." Cal was a compassionate thinker. He often grieved for the demons who lost their souls to rowdy humans. It used to keep him up at night. "You know what Tom, I just don't get it. I come in here to drink beer and fill your head with crap and have a fun time. Why on earth would you come here and think . . . yeah, I'm gonna punch a demon today. Idiots, the lot of them."

"I second that," Declan said, passing through with a large, laminated sign saying, 'Drinks in plastic cups for anyone who is a threat to a demon'.

Cal proudly tapped his glass with a coin, letting it ring loudly. "It'll be like the drink of shame."

"Good. Let them be embarrassed." Tom glanced over to Ezra who was hunched over the book. He was halfway through already. If he continued reading at such a pace, Tom would have to visit the library again tomorrow.

"What is he reading about?" Cal asked.

"Just stuff," Tom said, shrugging. He had promised Ezra to keep it all to himself. He would usually tell Cal everything, but not this.

"That's so incredibly vague-"

"It shouldn't be any of your business. It's only my business because he's wrongfully banned from the library."

"Is it something inappropriate?"

"No, Cal."

He held up his hands. "Keep your secrets." He gulped down the rest of the pint, and Tom knew he would either be carried home, or found at the crack of dawn, curled up under one of their round tables outside. "Is it a hot romance novel?"

"No."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"He's allowed privacy. Why are you being so nosey?"