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Neil starts to help around the shop. He doesn’t have to; Andrew handled everything perfectly fine before Neil dragged him into this new whatever they have. He doesn’t need an employee. So, Neil starts small, and completes tasks one at a time. Andrew doesn’t even blink when Neil takes an actual customer—he only realizes ten minutes later that it had been Neil’s first time checking someone out.
The shop isn’t too popular, so there’s quite a bit of downtime, and that’s when Andrew can’t find it in himself to complain that Neil has assigned himself an apparent Assistant Manager. That’s when Neil pushes him against the back storage shelves and kisses him senseless. That’s when Andrew touches Neil until he gets off.
It’s during one of these times that, while Andrew’s hand is down Neil’s pants, someone knocks at the shop door.
Neil freezes. The door is unlocked; customers can still come inside, assuming they’re human. Everything else is kept out by wards. If someone’s knocking, it’s because they’re supernatural. But, when Andrew pokes his head out from the back room and around the corner, he sees that Neil doesn’t need to be wary.
Because Renee is knocking, smiling gently on the other side of the glass.
Andrew strides forward and swings the door open, with Neil close behind (having adjusted his pants.) He raises his brow at the angel standing on his doorstep.
“May I come in?” she asks brightly with her hands behind her back.
“Password,” Andrew replies flatly.
“Mm…I don’t have a password. When did you make one?”
Andrew blinks. Right. Angels can be quite literal sometimes. “No, it’s—nevermind. Hold on.”
It takes just a moment for Andrew to focus his magic, using it to warp one tiny ward. The moment it bends, Renee steps through the threshold, and Andrew locks the ward after her.
“Andrew,” Neil hisses through his teeth. “What the hell?”
“This is Renee,” Andrew says.
“What is she?”
Andrew follows Renee deeper into the shop. “Angel.”
Neil doesn’t have anything to say to that, and Andrew’s back is turned, so he can’t see Neil’s expression. He chooses to focus on Renee while she lightly browses his wares. Today, she’s wearing a floor-length, blue patchwork skirt that brushes the ground when she takes a step. She’s wrapped up in a puffy brown jacket, completely inappropriate for the weather, which is in the low seventies.
Her hair is different this time. Short, platinum blonde, aside from her dark roots and her pastel-painted ends. Half of it is pulled into a bun at the crown of her head.
Renee turns to see Neil, assesses him for a moment, before her smile lights up the room. “Oh. You’re Nathaniel.”
“I go by Neil,” Neil corrects icily.
“Neil? Andrew, is that the boy you’ve been texting me about?”
Neil’s features melt into something a little warmer. Andrew pointedly ignores him. “While we’re on the topic: you weren’t answering any of those texts. I thought you let your phone die.”
“Oh, no, not since you told me how bad it worried you the last time,” she waves off. “I just don’t know how to answer them. I see your message pop up, but it doesn’t show me a way to reply.”
“Jesus Christ,” Andrew mutters.
“So, Renee,” Neil starts with way too much inflection. “How do you know Andrew?”
Renee grins and says, “I’m his guardian angel!”
Neil huffs a laugh, clearly skeptical, to the point where he thinks this is a joke. “Yeah? Andrew has his own guardian angel?”
“He’s been my charge for almost twenty years,” Renee explains, having missed Neil’s sarcasm. “He needed me very badly when he was a child, and the guardian bond is life-long. We were literally a match made in Heaven!”
“She’s not lying,” Andrew tells Neil pointedly.
Neil blinks. He glances between them and tilts his head like a confused puppy. “I thought witches got their power from a demon.”
Andrew fights the smirk off his face while Renee’s cheeks turn pink. “They do. Mine’s an imp named Allison. Renee was just a later addition.”
“It looks like you’ve picked up a human, too, Andrew,” Renee says a little too loudly as she tries to change the subject. “You’re collecting strays left and right, aren’t you?”
“Renee is completely in love with Allison,” Andrew continues and ignores Renee’s indignant noise.
Neil stares. “An angel in love with a demon. And both of them are attached to you for the rest of your life.”
“Exactly.”
“Have they…done anything about it?”
“If Renee would stop chickening out,” Andrew drawls. He rolls his eyes. “It’s painful to watch. She’s trying too hard to keep her wings white.”
“Anyway,” Renee says too loudly, “I came here for a reason. I needed to warn you.”
Andrew blinks. “Warn me.”
“Yes. You’ve been cursed.”
Neil actually laughs. Andrew points to the charm of the celtic knot hanging around his neck and gestures wordlessly around the room, silently reminding Renee that such a thing isn’t possible. Andrew has warded himself and his living quarters so heavily that he’d know if a curse were attached to him. Instantly.
Renee strides closer, though she doesn’t breach Andrew’s personal bubble. “I was also quite surprised when I felt it, but it’s undeniable. It’s ancient. You wouldn’t have the wards for it. Have you angered any particularly old witches lately?”
“Not unless Neil is hiding something from me,” Andrew says flatly. “Though, he does have an evil ex. Money’s on him.”
Neil says, “I wouldn’t curse you. I like your handjobs too much.”
Renee furrows her brows. “Your what?”
“How do I get rid of it, then?” Andrew interrupts when Neil shoots him a vicious grin.
“Well,” Renee says, shuffling her feet a little. “We…we might need Allison. I believe it’s drawing power from a demon I don’t recognize. I can’t break it unless I know the source.”
Andrew bites back a smug sound. “Perfect. Stay right there.”
“I don’t need to stay—”
But Andrew is already by the front door, scratching out another of his wards. Normally, if he needs Allison, he sends her a text and then allows her into the shop like two normal people. But, admittedly, he’s given her radio silence for the past few weeks. Mostly because of Neil, partly because he hasn’t needed anything from her. As predicted, she must sense the ward breaking the moment it happens.
In the next blink, Allison is standing in the doorway.
“And just exactly what the fuck have you been doing, Minyard?”
She’s wearing a skin-tight scarlet dress that comes to mid-thigh with her blonde hair tumbling in loose curls over her shoulders. Her eyes are a deep enough red that you might mistake them for brown until they caught sunlight. Andrew isn’t blind; he knows she’s attractive, and Allison has joked that they would have issues had she been paired with a straight witch. As it stands, Andrew finds her outfit tacky at best.
“Took a beach vacation,” he says.
“You wouldn’t go to a beach if I bribed you with hot men and ice cream,” she snarks back. “You smell like dark magic, by the way. It’s disgusting. I hope you haven’t indulged in an alignment change.”
He steps aside to allow her into the shop. Immediately, her eyes fall to Renee, and her demonic smirk melts into something gentle. “Oh, hey, Angel Soft.”
Neil raises an eyebrow and shares a look with Andrew.
A light pink flush dusts Renee’s cheeks. “Hello.”
Allison doesn’t seem to notice Renee’s awkwardness. She turns to Neil and appraises him head to toe; Neil shifts his weight uncomfortably. “You’re Neil.”
“How do you know—”
“You can assume everything Andrew knows, I know,” Allison says. “We’re connected like that. I can read his mind.”
“I texted her about you,” Andrew corrects.
Neil blinks. “So, she can’t read your mind? Also, why are you texting people about me?”
“Because I want them to know what they can expect,” Andrew says. “I don’t usually keep anyone around. You’re a stray who refuses to leave, so I need to make sure all relevant parties are updated.”
Allison rolls her eyes. “Sure. Whatever. You’re bragging.”
“Fuck you,” Andrew says. “Can you get rid of this shit or not?”
Allison looks at Renee and says, “A curse? You can’t cleanse it?”
Renee shrugs, her blush sticking around. Andrew wonders if she thinks she’s being subtle. “I can’t seem to determine the origin. We were hoping you could do it—and that you’d be able to tell us which demon cast the curse.”
“Got it. Andrew, get your skinny ass over here.”
Andrew raises a brow and does not move. Neil snorts.
“Okay. Get your gay ass over here.”
“At least that part is accurate,” Neil says as Andrew heads towards her.
“I will kill you,” Andrew tells him.
“Promise?”
Allison pretends to gag. “God, you’re disgusting. Stand here. It’s gonna feel a little like I’m burning you alive, but only for a few seconds.”
Neil’s eyes widen. Sarcastically, he quips, “Oh, well, if it’s only for a few seconds.”
Andrew shrugs. Physical pain is child’s play to him. Neil doesn’t need to know that, though.
Allison raises two perfectly manicured hands and places them by Andrew’s ears without touching him. She waits for him to give her a nod of affirmation, and then she gets to work. Immediately, it’s like someone has set fire to his bones, starting from his skull and radiating down to his feet. He grits his teeth—he knows it’s not real, he knows Allison would never do anything to hurt him, but white-hot pain lances down his spine and it’s a difficult thing to remember.
Andrew loses time to the pain. It could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or hours. His vision flashes white and he thinks he cries out, judging by the rawness of his throat. Like a cold splash of water, the pain abruptly ends, and he’s collapsing backwards.
Neil and Renee are there to catch him and gently lower him to the floor. Andrew lays his back flat against the worn wooden boards. The world seems to undulate around him; the release of pain leaves him dazed and breathless. Distantly, he feels Neil’s fingers brushing through his hair.
“You know a guy named Riko Moriyama?” Allison asks, her voice raspy.
“Fucking knew it,” Andrew mumbles. Neil makes a sound not dissimilar to a dying animal.
“He’s a demon?” Renee asks with an edge to her voice.
Allison shakes her head and leans her back against the checkout counter before sinking to the floor with the rest of them. “No. His demon is…old. Really old. Biblical old. But it’s a simple curse. A doom curse. Think of it like an invisible countdown; when it hits zero, boom, you’re dead, and you wouldn’t have even known it was there. I got rid of it. Shit.”
“I’m sorry,” Neil blurts out. “I dragged you into this.”
Andrew shakes his head. Or, he thinks he does—everything feels a bit like jelly. “You weren’t the one who cursed me.”
“He wouldn’t have known you even existed without me.”
Renee hums thoughtfully. “Nothing is ever random, Neil. Besides, there was no lasting damage.”
“This time,” Allison says.
Andrew swallows and gathers his thoughts. “Can we ward against it?”
“Sure. But if this guy really wants to kill you, he’s not going to give up. I have a better idea.” Allison crosses her legs and scootches closer. Hilariously, Neil averts his eyes from the gap her dress makes, like he needs to protect an imp’s virtue. Andrew eases himself up into a sitting position and tries his best not to lean against him for support, his arms still shaky.
Allison’s ruby red nails tap a rhythm on the floor. Instantly, a vanta black hole opens in the floorboards. Renee pushes herself away from it, her cautious eyes tracking Allison’s movements. Allison mimics pulling a rope from the hole, like she’s drawing water out of a well.
Two blobs of shadow form between Allison’s hands. She swipes over the hole with her palm and it disappears, but the two formless shapes remain. Without warning, the shadows take shape—two crows, one jet-black and one smoky gray, stand where the hole once was.
“Oh,” Andrew says dumbly.
“Familiars!” Renee claps her hands in unrestrained joy. “It’s about time!”
“Sorry it took me so long,” Allison tells Andrew as the crows investigate their surroundings. “I had intended to visit anyway in the next few days so I could give them to you. Cool, right?”
Andrew stares at the birds. Numb, he breathes, “Allison.”
Imps are low-level demons. Technically, a witch should be embarrassed to draw their power from such a creature. But witches can’t choose their demons, and Andrew has always appreciated Allison’s rash attitude. They practically grew up together, and throughout all those years, Allison has always lamented that she couldn’t create familiars for him.
Familiars, in a sense, are extensions of a demon’s power. They’re manifestations of a demon’s eyes and ears, keeping witches company in the absence of their charges. Allison had never been strong enough. Neither of them ever thought she would be, and Andrew had been perfectly okay with that.
“Don’t make it a thing,” Allison asks.
The black crow makes its way over to Neil and pecks at his jeans. It twitches, tilting its head this way and that, before it morphs into a shadow again. In the next moment, a black cat stands in its place. Neil’s intake of breath has it mewing, as if to comfort him, before curling up against his leg and purring.
“Fascinating,” Renee mutters. “Familiars usually only change form for their witches.”
“I’m good with animals,” Neil says softly. Tentatively, he scratches the cat behind the ears, and the cat squints and leans into the touch.
“Allison,” Andrew says again.
“I said to not make it a thing, Minyard,” Allison chides.
The gray crow follows suit; its cat form is the same color gray and longhaired, with piercing orange eyes that seem to penetrate Andrew’s soul.
“Why cats?” he asks.
Allison shrugs. “They can be anything. Maybe your boy toy likes cats.”
“I hate birds,” Neil clarifies before Andrew can retort against the boy toy accusations. “Riko’s familiar is a raven.”
Something about his words fill the room with an uncomfortable silence. It’s almost as if he’s name-dropped something terrifying, beyond his irrationally, cartoonishly villainous ex. To break the awkwardness, the gray cat rolls onto its back and stretches dramatically. Renee giggles and rubs its tummy.
“Well?” Allison asks. “What are you gonna name them?”
–
It’s days later when Neil says, “I guess they don’t eat.”
“They’re corporeal manifestations of demonic magic,” Andrew says. “They don’t need Friskies.”
The black cat—Cat 1, Andrew has taken to calling her—hops up onto the counter where Neil watches a pot boil. He tsks at her and gently scoops her up before depositing her onto the ground, where she twines herself between his legs. Cat 1 is the biggest troublemaker. The other night, she knocked over the kitchen knife block, scattering sharp objects across the linoleum. She watched with wide, emerald eyes as Andrew plucked them up.
“Cat 2 is normal,” Andrew tells her when she gets bored of Neil’s shins and wanders to her witch. “Why can’t you be normal?”
“We need better names,” Neil says as he dumps spaghetti into the pot.
“Why? Cat 1 and Cat 2 get the job done. They’re not actual pets, Neil.”
“Okay, but we can still name them. People name their fish. C’mon, they’re your familiars. Think of something.”
Andrew pauses. He looks at Cat 1 and says, “Fluffy.”
“You’re impossible. That’s so boring.”
“Well, if you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.”
“Sir Fat Cat,” Neil says.
“Sir…what?” Andrew stares at Neil’s back from his spot on the island’s bar stool. “She’s a girl.”
“I thought she was a corporeal manifestation of demon magic,” Neil mocks.
“Fuck off. I’m not calling her that. And she’s not fat.”
“She’s shapely.”
Sir mrows, offended.
“What’s your genius name for the other one?” Andrew asks.
Neil hums and places his wooden spoon across the top of the pot to keep it from boiling over. “King Fluffikins.”
“She’s a girl, too.”
“I don’t care. Gender knows no bounds. If they can shapeshift into a crow, they can be hermaphrodites.”
A comfortable silence falls between them. Andrew watches Neil cook, captivated by the thin bones of his wrists and the way his shirt is a little too big for him. He hadn’t considered their arrangement to be domestic, but with the addition of two cats, that feels like it’s changing. They already need to lock the familiars out of the bedroom at night to get any privacy.
He’s lost in thought when Neil suddenly says, “What did Renee mean when she said you needed her as a kid?”
It’s as though Andrew is rocketed forward into reality, bursting out of a dream. He straightens his spine. Sir leaps up onto the stool next to him.
“I was in foster care.”
“I know that. Did something happen?”
Andrew hesitates. “Almost.”
Neil doesn’t take it further. He just nods, using a little rubber spatula to stir the sauce that is now gently bubbling on the back burner. Andrew knows he wants to pry further, but he’s too goddamn respectful to try, and it’s nauseating.
“I was seven,” Andrew says. “My foster father tried to touch me.”
Neil barely falters in his movements, but the rage visibly sets into the line of his shoulders. Andrew bites back his confession that Steven did touch him, just once, before Renee arrived. “I didn’t know what I was back then. Otherwise, I could have protected myself. But Renee showed up, and I had her with me through foster care.”
“In Oakland,” Neil recalls with a voice that is oddly empty.
“Yes.”
The pasta is done to Neil’s liking and he busies himself with draining it and finishing the sauce. But, instead of reaching for bowls, he turns and steps towards Andrew with purpose. Andrew automatically turns towards him and ignores the way his heart leaps as he does it.
Neil stops between his knees and glances down pointedly at Andrew’s lips. When Andrew nods, Neil kisses him, so softly and so tenderly that Andrew forgets their arrangement was supposed to be emotionless. A fire curdles in his stomach and he quickly quenches it with a mantra: he’s not yours, he can’t be yours, he’s not yours.
“I’m glad she kept you safe,” Neil murmurs.
Andrew avoids responding by pulling him in for another kiss; this one is rough, unwieldy. It’s easier to explain away his pounding pulse when Neil is pressed against him, when he teases Neil’s bottom lip with his tongue until Neil gasps and lets him inside. Andrew drags his fingers through wavy, auburn hair and tugs just enough to have Neil stepping as close as he can.
“We’re going to eat,” Andrew whispers against Neil’s lips, “and then you’re going to shove your dick down my throat until I can’t breathe.”
“Fuck,” Neil groans. “The cats must be sick of us already.”