Demon Coil - 4. Chapter 4

The next day was lazy, with all four roommates pitching in to cook a huge breakfast with all the fixings. As he munched on a rare strip of bacon (people were vegetarian most of the time due to the expense of meat; mages who could grow crops with ease just made it an economical choice) Arno couldn’t help but imagine Sygny there at the table with them. Stop it, he thought to himself, but his day dreams continued to betray him. It was clear to him that Lacuna and Tali already liked Sygny, and he seemed nice, but Arno was stuck wishing that their possible friendship wasn’t forced into a romance. It was inevitable to him that they would be incompatible.

After breakfast, Rex left again, and was accused of stalking the lair. Tali reminded him that he would have to go to work the next day, but he just waved her off. “I just don’t want anyone else to die,” he said, glaring at the rest of them. Arno followed him out of the warehouse, waving goodbye to him as he lit up a cigarette. The whole situation both in the city and in his personal life was stressing him out, but at the same time he almost felt like he should be hiding the smoking. When he examined the feeling, he realized that it was because Sygny had spoken against it. He was in deeper than the thought.

A few hours later there was a knock on the front door, and they looked at each other in confusion. “Maybe it’s someone from the lair,” Tali suggested.

Arno decided to check, looking through the peephole to discover no one on the front step. “What the hell?” he said, which encouraged Tali to appear, squeezing around him to take over the peephole.

“No one’s there,” she said. “Should we open the door?”

“I don’t think so,” Arno said. For a moment his mind was filled with wild theories, wondering if Sygny’s spell had somehow made whoever had knocked on the door to vanish into thin air. Maybe Sygny’s worry had been that his spell wouldn’t work properly? He tapped his fingers against the phone in his pocket as he thought, wondering if he should text the mage. Certainly, he didn’t want to be in trouble for someone from the lair failing to return to it from their residence.

“Oh, Sygny said if a person was not welcome they would just think no one was home, give up, and walk away,” Lacuna said from the other room.

“Would have been nice to know that,” Arno said, crossing his arms as he walked away from the door. “I guess it was one of Davinhar’s demons then.”

“Probably,” Lacuna agreed, seeming unfazed by Arno’s annoyance.

“So, what are you wearing tonight?” Tali asked, and Arno immediately saw that he had no way out of his pushy roommate’s interference in his date. No matter what response he gave it would not be adequate; she was convinced that most men were unable to dress themselves. Her theory was only validated (in her mind) by Arno’s wardrobe of black on black on boring. Between himself and Lacuna, she had her work cut out for her in injecting color into her roommate’s clothes.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said. Tali squealed and jumped with a grin, dragging him into his bedroom while Lacuna smirked from the couch. “Better me than you?” he asked, but didn’t get to hear the reply, if there was one.

The bedroom was a decent size, the queen bed taking up space but failing to overwhelm the desk and shelves that Arno also kept around. There was a laptop on the desk that he used solely for keeping business accounts and ordering parts, and vintage textbooks on the shelves alongside retro auto magazines and interesting scrap metal art. The walls were gray, and the windows covered by heavy curtains. Tali ripped these open, letting the afternoon sunlight into the room. She bustled over to the closet, discarding article after article of black clothing onto the bed.

“Casual restaurant, but none of your ripped jeans,” she mused, holding up a jewel toned red button-down shirt that Arno couldn’t remember ever wearing. “This is nice.”

“Where did that even come from?” he asked.

“Oh, I bought it for you a few months ago when I was out shopping. I put it in your closet in the hopes that you would just spontaneously wear it, but no such luck. It compliments your horns nicely,” she said. Arno touched his head, grimacing. “Oh, please. You could hide them under your hair if you wanted, but you shave the sides so they’re obvious.”

“They still make me look like one of those old, inaccurate bible illustrations,” he said.

“I’ll put a hat on you if you don’t shut up,” Tali said, flouncing back into the closet. “Do you own any pants that aren’t ripped?” she called out after a moment, and when he stepped closer she had her hands on her hips and was staring at him.

“Maybe?” he said.

“Helpful. Why don’t you come in here and look? You need some organizers or something,” she said.

Arno squeezed into the closet, which was just large rather than actually being a walk in, as Tali stepped out. After digging around for a few minutes, he produced a pair of matte leather pants that were whole. “This is all I’ve got,” he said.

Tali’s eyes lit up, and he groaned. “These are hot,” she said. “Maybe a little too much for a first date, but he’s into you, so it’ll be fine. Who cares what other people think?”

She laid the pants and shirt out on the bed, on top of all the discarded options. “Are you going to put those away?” he asked, not hopeful. Tali shook her head.

“Now, just boots, of course, and you won’t need a jacket. It’s still nasty humid out. It’s like we don’t even have spring around here; it just jumps straight to summer. Stupid lava demons.” Though she complained, Arno figured she probably didn’t mind that much, considering the fact that she always wore as few clothes as possible even in what passed for winter. “Now just put some gel in your hair and get dressed up. You don’t want to be late to pick him up,” Tali giggled.

Lacuna wolf-whistled at him sarcastically when he went to leave, making Tali smack her gently. “Be nice,” she said, sitting up more primly in her position on the couch.

“See you guys later,” Arno said, grabbing his riding gloves as he headed down the stairs. In the basement garage was his pride and joy, two retro motorcycles that he had modified to filter their own exhaust. It was clean energy without sacrificing the signature power of the gas engine, and he was proud of the modifications. He had a Harley as well as a more standard bike, which was the one he chose for that evening. He wanted to go fast. He put a helmet in the storage compartment on the back of the bike and mounted up, taking off through the garage door and waiting for it to automatically close behind him before leaving.

Sygny had given him an address in a rich area of town, where there were high rise apartment buildings that rented by the floor, full of sophisticated technology and without the lump in the salvaged couch in his warehouse living room, he was sure. He pulled to a stop outside the appropriate building, his bike making a loud spectacle among the shiny facades and sleek new technology that made vehicles whisper quiet. After putting one foot on the ground, Arno pulled out his phone to text Sygny that he was there, five minutes early, but he had barely opened the messaging app when his date appeared at the front door and walked towards him. Shrugging, he shoved the small device back into his pocket.

“Shit, are you trying to get me murdered?” Sygny asked before Arno could say anything. He wasn’t smiling, but Arno couldn’t help but appreciate the more toned-down outfit he was wearing. There were still weird details, like asymmetrical sleeves, but Arno found that he didn’t mind them as much as he had the first time they had met. He also appreciated the fact that Sygny was wearing sturdy, if bright blue, boots.

“Huh?” he asked intelligently, breaking his gaze from the mage and looking around for possible assailants.

“My father is going to kill me for disturbing the neighborhood peace,” he elaborated. “I wouldn’t have had you pick me up if I knew you would be driving that.” He looked genuinely upset, which made Arno feel like crap.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meeting Sygny’s gray eyes and speaking with a serious tone. “Let’s get a helmet on you and get out of here, then.” He reached behind him and opened the compartment, passing the helmet to Sygny. Minus one point for you, he thought to himself, though there was no way he could have known his bike would be such a problem. He just thought it was cool.

Sygny settled in behind him, and Arno looked over his shoulder to make sure he was ready to go. “Hey, why aren’t you wearing a helmet?” Sygny asked, trying to play at the same shtick he had brought when he caught Arno smoking in the garage.

Arno, hesitant to cause more problems, decided to reply seriously. “My horns get in the way, and I’m too cheap to get one modified. You ready?” He saw Sygny nod in his peripheral vision, and with that he took off, driving conservatively through the streets until he reached the city proper. When he gunned it, he felt Sygny grab his waist, thumbs digging into his kidneys in an attempt to keep from crushing completely against him, but he didn’t stop his companion. The grip didn’t feel like fear, and he heard Sygny laugh before the breeze he was creating snatched it away.

When they parked outside the restaurant Sygny stepped off the bike with care, staring at Arno once he pulled the helmet off. “Hoverbikes don’t go that fast,” he said.

“Nope,” Arno said, unable to stop himself from grinning after the exhilaration of the ride. “There’s no substitute for a real gas-powered engine.”

“I want one,” he said, his concerns about his father and neighbors seemingly forgotten in the moment.

“Maybe when you learn not to crash your hoverbike into a lava puddle,” Arno said, smiling as he took the helmet to show that he wasn’t really being mean.

“Whatever,” Sygny said, but there was no venom in it.

With the helmet stored they walked into the restaurant. It was casual, so Arno hadn’t need to make a reservation. While busy, there were still tables available, and a hostess led them to one in a corner. Arno took the seat against the back wall, looking out at the other guests. A server came almost immediately to pour them tea, and the menu illuminated on the tablet built into the table, waiting for them to make their selections.

Arno clicked “Do Not Disturb” on the tablet, meaning that the server would only come by if they ordered something and she was dropping it off. Whoever had decided that was a good idea to include in restaurant software was probably a billionaire.

“What do you like?” Arno asked Sygny, his fingers hovering over the menu. This location wasn’t classy enough to serve real fish, but he liked it well enough and their imitation products were quite believable.

Sygny took a sip of his tea and peered over at the tablet. “I don’t see anything I don’t like,” he said, “so you can pick.”

Arno shrugged, taking Sygny’s assertion at face value. “Well, if there turns out to be something you don’t want, then I’ll just eat it.” He keyed in an appetizer of pot stickers and then several different sushi rolls, plenty of food for the two of them. When Sygny’s attention was caught by something over by the kitchen he also ordered a mochi ice cream dessert. Sending the order off he leaned back in his chair, smiling. Though he projected an air of confidence, he was actually terrified. The last time he had been on a date… Arno thought, but he could barely remember. Probably when he was still in school, but the name of the guy wouldn’t come to him.

Sygny tipped his chair back onto two legs, earning a side eye from a server that he was oblivious too. Whether it was an act or not, he just seemed happy. Arno hoped that he was forgiven for the motorcycle incident. It was not surprising when Sygny brought it up, though. “So, isn’t it bad for the environment to ride that thing?” he asked, gesturing out to the parking area.

“No, actually,” Arno replied, exhaling in relief. This was a safe subject, for the most part. “In school we learned all about clean energy options, of course, though some people still drive old gas-fueled vehicles and we worked on those, too. I had this idea that I could combine the two, and I managed to do it. It scrubs the exhaust before it hits the open air.”

“If you sold something like that, you would be rich,” Sygny said, and then he dropped his gaze. “I mean if you wanted. I’m not saying you’re poor or anything. I’m just used to people wanting to make the most money possible off anything because my father—”

Arno reached across the table, which wasn’t very large, and put his hand on Sygny’s shoulder. The younger man’s eyes snapped up, going wide. He clearly knew that he had been rambling, but Arno smiled. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t really care about money though. I’ll put the scrubber on someone’s engine if they want it; it’s not a secret, but if I was wealthy I’d have to deal with annoying great demons and all that crap. I’m a pretty simple person, myself. I don’t want to be involved in demon politics.”

“Oh, that makes sense, don’t worry about it,” Sygny said. Arno leaned back for a moment, having spotted their server. She dropped the pot stickers off, and Sygny licked his lips.

“Hungry?” Arno asked.

“Always,” Sygny replied, and picked up his chopsticks to snag one of the dough pockets.

Their conversation resumed around their meal, Sygny eating his share easily despite his slim frame and small size. As promised, there was nothing he didn’t dig into with gusto; apparently, sushi had been a good choice. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Lacuna had asked Sygny what he liked and prominently suggested it. She was crafty and would do something of that nature just to see if it would work.

As they spoke, the topics ranged from hobbies, where Sygny was surprised to learn just how often Arno worked out; he was apparently pretty lazy outside of the required physical training need to perform magic, and preferred to hang out on the internet or play video games. He also seemed pleased with how knowledgeable Arno was in matters of science; the mechanic knew that he often gave off the air that he was just muscle, but he was proud of his education and how hard he had worked to get it.

They found common ground there, as magic was just science on demonic steroids, and Sygny explained the theory behind how magic was passed through genetics, revealing that his mother had been purely human, but a gifted fortune teller with extrasensory perception. The plates were clean before either of them realized, and Arno found himself smiling much more often than he usually did. However, he couldn’t find any way to talk about how he wasn’t really one for the type of relationships most popular in the twenty-second century without seeming like a dick.

Arno had just spotted the server coming their way with the ice cream he had ordered when Sygny made innocent looking eye contact with him and asked, “So, do you have a tail, too?” He pressed his fingers to the top of his head, indicating Arno’s horns. He smiled, and Arno could tell that he was trying to be flirty rather than rude.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer the question immediately by dessert. Three little balls of ice cream decorated the plate, each a different flavor. The server had brought spoons as well, and Arno reached over to the plate to slice each mochi in half. Arno took a bite, savoring the strawberry flavor as it melted on his tongue.

“You didn’t answer me,” Sygny giggled, making a mock grouchy face. His expression turned to stunned when Arno blushed, the color almost a deep enough red to match his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, sticking his spoon in the ice cream and looking down.

Arno recovered after a moment but didn’t answer. Even worse than his horns, in his opinion, was his tail. A lot of part-demons had them, but, once again, he was cursed with the stereotypical type, a thin red whip with an arrowhead point. He always kept it wrapped around his waist under his belt. Not for the first time, he wished he looked even a little bit unique.

“I really am sorry,” Sygny said, and when Arno met his eyes there was clear remorse in his expression.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied quickly. The ice cream was almost gone, but Sygny had left a piece of the strawberry. He waved his spoon toward Arno, indicating that he should have it. “Thanks,” he said.

He quickly paid the bill on the tablet, debiting his account for the meal and an appropriate tip for “Do Not Disturb” service. Sygny walked out next to him, close enough that their arms brushed. Arno realized he was probably being too aloof, and he smiled at the mage when he handed him the extra helmet.

“Do you want me to drop you off somewhere else?” Arno asked.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve decided I don’t care if my dad has a fit about it. He’ll just find something else to complain about if it’s not this,” Sygny replied, but he looked worried. As soon as Arno got him off the subject of his father he was outgoing and confident, but he saw the pattern of behavior when the man was brought up. Arno clenched his fist, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Okay,” he said; it wasn’t in his nature to argue things that like. Sygny put the helmet on and they mounted the bike. This time he didn’t try to keep himself pulled away from Arno, and clutched his body tightly with both arms. Closer to his ear this time, Arno could hear Sygny’s giggle of excitement as they rushed through the city like a speeding bullet, always in the fast lanes. The ride was too short, taking barely a few minutes, but Arno was acutely aware of Sygny’s warm presence at his back the whole time.

Arno cut the engine when they stopped, as to annoy fewer neighbors, and Sygny let go of him slowly. He pulled the helmet off and handed it to Arno, who stowed it. “Thank you so much for taking me out,” Sygny said, bouncing on his toes from the adrenaline of the ride. He reached out and hugged Arno, surprising him. Before he could reciprocate Sygny had let go. “Good night!” he said.

“Good night,” Arno replied, though Sygny was already heading inside.