The backpack Greg totted was the same one he had used since middle-school. Black, unadorned, with minimal extra features. Built to be durable, it had weathered all sorts of abuse throughout the years. Even now, it continued to faithfully carry his belongings, primarily a bundle of clothes, his laptop, charging cords, and a few odds and ends he had taken with him from his relatively brief stint at college.

Taz carried a box under his arm, seeming no worse for wear despite it being stuffed with several pounds of kitchen supplies, assorted spices and seasonings, and a few odds and ends pilfered from the group’s collection of occultic resources. Taz said they would be useful later, though for what ends, Greg did not know. He was not aware of any rituals to deposit funds into his bank account, nor of any incantations that awarded the caster a degree in electrical engineering from an accredited university. He had checked their entire collection of knowledge, a full shelf of tomes and binders of translated texts that had been gathered over the course of over a decade, according to Jerry. Ancient practitioners must not have accounted for the invention of wireless commerce, which was to be expected. Greg was mildly surprised that there were no spells related to academia. He supposed that even the most heinous user of profane arts would know better than to kick that hornet’s nest. ‘Fuck around and find out,’ is a phrase Greg would associate with most of the tenured professors he had dealings with.

Taz wore the bracelet he had shown Greg earlier on his wrist. He claimed it would divert unwanted attention and disguise his appearance, both his skin and his clothing. When pressed for specifics, Taz could only offer a shrug and “It just works. I stopped going to that class after we learned how to make our own. I didn’t see the point in staying to learn how it worked.”

True to his words, not a single person so much as glanced at Taz. However, it was not just Taz, but Greg as well, for he too wore a bracelet identical to Taz’s. The affable demon had produced one at Greg’s insistence. When asked why, Greg mumbled about how any introvert would kill to have something like that.

“We’ll work on that,” Taz had said matter-of-factly.

“Nope.”

He raised a brow. “Assertive for an introvert, are we?”

“It takes nerves of steel to consistently turn down invitations to family gatherings. Especially when your parents start pulling out the ‘you don’t have to stay the entire time’ card. The last time I fell for that, they kept me there for hours,” Greg shuddered.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It wasn’t, up until they started asking about my personal life. ‘How are your grades? Find a girlfriend yet? Boyfriend?’ I don’t know about you, but having to lie not just to my parents, but my entire family is not something I enjoy doing. What was I supposed to say? ‘I don’t look for love because I don’t think I can handle a relationship? All my friends are dead? And oh, by the way, I’ve thought about killing myself? Twice? Because I wasted all the effort you went through, all the long nights and extra shifts you suffered through to get me through college? Because I'm a failure and a waste of time?!’”

An arm wrapped him into a side-hug. He hadn’t realized he was crying until he had buried his face in Taz’s shoulder. They sat down at the mouth of an alley, Taz having set Greg down on the cardboard box he had been totting.

At some point, Taz disappeared for a few minutes after telling Greg to stay put. When he returned, he carried two ice cream cones.

Steve.

In that moment, Greg knew he could trust Taz. Despite him being a being from a plane of fire and brimstone (well, that's what he had read, anyways), despite his kind being associated with damnation and suffering, despite having known him for less than an hour, he knew he could call Taz a true friend. While a few kind words and acts did not necessarily make one completely trustworthy, it was the lack of hesitation and genuine compassion that Taz had displayed that convinced Greg. It had been the same look Steve had given him when he caught Greg contemplating ending his own life, all those months ago.

Greg had nearly broken again, after seeing Taz bringing him ice cream.

“Seems like humans have it just as bad as us,” Taz commented. “Not sure if that surprises me. From what I’ve read and what I’ve seen so far, demon society isn’t all that different from human society. We both have our struggles, our challenges. Winners and losers. Those who succeed and those who fail. What’s important is that you take a breath, stand up, and keep going. Things will get better.”

Greg nodded.

They sat in companionable silence as they ate. When they were finished, they stood up, and kept walking.

“Where are we going, by the way?” Taz asked.

When they had left the housing complex, Greg already had an idea of where to go next. Since then, he had done an internet search and found what he needed. “We need somewhere to stay for a few nights while we figure out what to do next.”

“Oh, we’re staying at an inn?”

Greg turned to the demon, snorting. “An ‘inn’? This isn’t ye old times, my dude. Are you sure passed that class you mentioned before?”

“D’s get degrees.” Taz nodded sagely.

Within the next few minutes, Greg and Taz stood before their destination. A motel that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the early 70’s.

“Oh look, it has free Wi-Fi,” Taz pointed to the marquee that display the rates for overnight or longer stays. Indeed, they had free internet access. A veritable boon in this trying time.

“Well,” Greg sighed in resignation, “let’s get checked in.”