Convoke

Chapter 49

Tom could barely concentrate on his evening shift. They had heard nothing about Othrowan's plans for the ceremony. Cal sat in front of him, looking a little better than he had in his previous days. He wasn't working today, and Tom was glad to have friendly company.

The pub was very quiet, but everyone who came in went straight up to Ezra, thanking him, as if they had always been nice to him. Locals who had once taunted the idea of fighting him were suddenly all smiles, and polite gestures.

"Fake twats," Cal mumbled, deep into a packet of ready salted crisps, and three pints of Carling. "So, when does he get changed back into an angel?"

"We're not sure. Othrowan promises soon, but soon is not good enough."

"I agree. He's been a demon for how long?"

"Just over a hundred years."

Cal whistled with surprise. "Far too long, then. That old angel needs to sort out his priorities."

"He really does." Tom sighed and leaned against the bar. He looked around, wondering how things would be when Ezra was an angel again. Would he be any different? Maybe more confident, and people would treat him with kindness. Would he still work in the pub? Would he still see him as often as he did now? Would he still want to help find the cause of the violence? Of course he would.

Tom smiled over at Ezra, who looked bored. He approached the bar to say hello and commented on how long he still had left of his shift. "This evening is going incredibly slow."

"I think that's because you're waiting to hear from Othrowan."

"If it's not done tomorrow, you should riot," Cal said casually, pouring the rest of the crisps into his mouth, and finishing his beer in four large mouthfuls. He slammed the glass on the bar with a large grin. "Another of your finest please, best friend."

I must ask about Gerry, Tom thought, keeping it to himself. As far as he was aware, the attacker's identity was still kept a secret. Tom hoped that wasn't Gerry's redemption. He still hoped that he would be punished for what he had done. Though he couldn't deny that he was grateful, no matter how much they forced Gerry to take part in the set up.

"Why have you still got your demon mark?" Finn asked Ezra, slurring his words.

"I'm still a demon," Ezra replied bluntly.

"But why?"

"Othrowan is taking his time."

"That old fart. Get him told. Or I'll get him told!" Finn raised his whisky glass. "Won't we boys!" The locals cheered, and Ezra's moody demeanour straightened out.

"Thank you. He might need a push to move things along quicker. Physically or figuratively, I don't care, take your pick."

"We've got your back, lad. I'd love to see him fall flat on his wrinkled face." Finn hobbled back to his table, so he could yell at the football.

The rest of the evening continued to drag. Each hour went slower than the last. Closing time finally arrived, and Tom went out to bring in the beer prices sign, pausing when a dark figure leaned against it. "Kie, hey."

"Hi Tom. Bad news I'm afraid. It seems like someone in our group was giving information back to the angels." Kie looked worn down to the bone, as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Ah." Tom crossed his arms. "That's why Othrowan knew we didn't trust the angels."

"Yes, and did you notice that they didn't sing their choir? That makes me nervous. I have a feeling they'll reorganise it. I really don't trust them."