“Are you sure the AC is blowing cold air?” asked Greg for the fifth time in the last hour.
A record-breaking heat wave had descended upon the town, and it spared no one. It cared little for the feeble devices that struggled against its unending assault.
“It’s trying its best, ok? Cut the poor guy some slack,” groaned Taz. The crimson-skinned demon now sported spots of purple and magenta like some sort of mood ring. Fun fact: demons prefer slightly cooler temperatures than humans do and have less tolerance for heat. Taz was not having fun today. He was barely staving off heat stroke.
Taz had thought about summoning a poltergeist that would lower the temperature of the room, but then remembered that the ghost would start throwing furniture and small objects around the room in a localized telekinetic storm. Taz had worked hard decorating, damnit. He was not ready to let some spirit thrash the place.
The still-unnamed Lutines had set out a pitcher of cold lemonade at some point, and Taz and Greg expressed their appreciation for the small kindness.
“I can’t use my brain right now, it’s too hot,” Greg groaned, to which Taz grunted in agreement. Having a clear head is very much needed when making important decisions. They had time to decide, having just enough funds to pay rent for the month, but not the month after. Still, procrastination was a slippery slope. Having checked the forecast, Greg knew they would have to get up early if they wanted to be productive.
For now, though, the two layabouts tried to distract themselves from the scathing heat with mind-numbing television and arguably more mind-numbing internet surfing.
---
The knock at the door came near the end of the day.
Taz, having had the ingenious idea to put a damp towel around his neck, had the energy to get up off his ass and answer the door. Greg had passed out, and after checking to see if he was still alive, Taz had let him rest.
“Oh, it’s you,” Taz said upon seeing Amar standing out under the sun, not a drop of sweat on him. “Do you need something?”
Amar twiddled his thumbs, or at least, attempted to. It ended up being more like tapping meaty sticks against each other than anything else. “Is this a good time to talk? Also, I brought a housewarming gift,” he said, holding out a vase with a few simple flowers in it. Taz thought it’d look nice in the already cramped bathroom. As a reminder, Taz has the polar opposite of good taste, to the point where Greg had suspected it was intentional except for the fact that Taz had seemed genuinely offended when he gently tried to point it out.
Taz looked back at Greg, still breathing, and made the decision to let the stranger into their home despite having spoken only once before.
Surprised by Taz’s lack of hesitancy, Amar stood blankly, not having expected to be let in without a word.
“You ok?” asked Taz, genuinely concerned. Had the soul possessing the body left on a spontaneous vacation?
Blinking on habit, Amar made his way inside, Taz shutting the door behind him, not eager to waste any of their not-burning air attempting to circulate through the apartment.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Amar surveyed the room, noting a passed-out Greg. Taz waved dismissively, adding that Greg was fine. Amar shrugged. Beyond the not-dead body, Amar noted the assault on his senses that was the interior decorations. He hadn’t known he could be offended by a couch, but here he was, feeling a mild sense of revulsion at the sight of a couch with denim upholstery patterned and dyed to resemble cow hide, complete with hoofed legs jutting out from the two front legs of the couch. The cushions were the uncomfortable-looking kind of fluffy, with plastic bejeweled trim. Also, they were bright neon green and pink, for the left and right cushions respectively.
Amar was sure that if his body still pumped blood, he would be bleeding from the eyes from the abhorrent sight. He even felt the need to check and make sure. Yup, no blood. Body still looked normal enough. Amar had to hold himself back from commenting. He had interacted with enough people to know when someone would take personal offense to an offhand comment. There was no drama quite like funeral drama. Boy, those could get really nasty, real fast. So, as much as he wanted to, he did not comment on the décor.
Taz took the vase and set it on the breakfast table. He went to rouse Greg, who awoke with a gasp and begging for water. After quenching his thirst, he noticed Amar had been patiently waiting in the chair adjacent the couch.
“Hi,” said Greg to Amar before taking another sip of water.
“Hello, Greg. The heat is quite oppressive today, isn’t it?” replied Amar.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Greg looked at Taz in askance. “What’s going on?”
“Amar wanted to talk about something.” He turned to the man in question. “So? What did you want to talk about?”
“Well…” Amar trailed off nervously. “I suppose I should just come right out and say it. I know you’re not human, and neither am I.”
Greg was stunned at the bluntness of Amar’s disclosure. Taz simply nodded as he had already expected this, and he said as much. “Yes, we know.”
Now it was Amar’s turn to be surprised. “Huh?”
Taz chuckled. “I mean, you completely ignored the anonymity bracelets, and I didn’t sense a heartbeat. Not to mention the partial rigor mortis.”
Amar relaxed, seeing as how Taz hadn’t responded with aggression. “Yes. I am, technically speaking, neither dead nor alive. I’m not entirely certain of the how of it, but I am quite sure that I have possessed my own body. That is to say, when I died of a sudden heart attack several years ago, my soul remained anchored to my body, and allowed me to pilot it around. Sort of like Weekend at Bernie’s. Lucky for me, no one has caught on, though I have had to explain the rigor as arthritis, not to mention the constant conscious efforts to maintain all the autonomic processes that my body can no longer perform on their own. Not to mention blinking, breathing, and micro expressions.”
“Sounds like a lot to deal with,” Greg said sympathetically.
“It is. But, those are my troubles to deal with. Now that I have shared my woes with you, I hope it would not be rude of you to reciprocate.”
Taz took lead of the conversation. “Not at all, Amar. I am a demon, summoned here recently, though I do not wish to share the details of that summoning, I will say that I am staying in this realm for the foreseeable future, and will be here with my new friend Greg, living as a human.”
Amar was silent for a moment, debating whether or not to press the issue. Even if Taz did not directly answer his question, his reaction would satisfy Amar enough to drop the topic. “Recently eleven bodies were found in the remains of a house fire. Does that have anything to do with the summoning?” Amar’s gaze darted between the human and demon, looking for any tells. While Taz revealed nothing, Greg had a terrible poker face. Guilt and regret were the primary emotions Amar saw in his expression. Also, a hint of fear or apprehension, Amar was not sure which.
“It’s alright,” Amar reassured Greg, “I apologize for broaching such a painful topic, I just had to make sure you were not a malicious actor. I know little of demon summoning, but any kind of summoning is inherently dangerous, especially when sapients end up dead, either as part of the process or as the result.
“I won’t pry further, and I hope you can find peace, Greg,” Amar said with the gentle care that came from years of comforting relatives of the recently departed.
Greg nodded, unable to meet Amar’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said, quietly.
Amar smiled. He straightened up in his chair and looked between Taz and Greg. “Now that we have properly introduced ourselves, let’s talk about the future. I recall you mentioning you were looking for work?”