“What’re you staring at?” Shawn chuckled from his place at the counter, refilling the napkin dispensers.

Tara and Ava were sharing a two-seater table with half-drunk cappuccinos, extending Tara’s break indefinitely… or at least until a customer decided to enter Jessi’s Java. Given it was the middle of a Monday, they weren’t exactly expecting a landslide of patrons.

Tara was guilty of the staring for which she was being accused, her eyes flitting between the two demons over and over, unable to settle. “I just… I was only wondering… what do you guys really look like?”

Ava blinked, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“What do you mean?” Shawn asked slowly.

“You don’t… I mean, I’m assuming that demons don’t look like humans. This is a disguise… right?” Her voice had disintegrated as she spoke, until the last word barely got past her lips. She would not be admitting the scaly apparitions she had imagined, but as usual Ava had that look on her face as though she could read her thoughts anyway. Maybe Tara shouldn’t have stayed up all night watching conspiracy theory videos on Saturday… those lizard people had stuck with her.

Shawn grinned. “Well, I doubt we look as different as you think we do,” he answered cryptically.

“Can I see?”

Ava laughed obnoxiously. “Absolutely not.”

Excitement and frustration swirled through Tara.“Please!” she gasped desperately but Ava was not to be swayed. She shook her smirk-filled face, showing her enjoyment at Tara’s pleading far too clearly. Tara frowned and switched her tactic. “Shawn, you’ll show me, right?”

“I…” He paused to look between them, and Tara wondered if he was weighing up his odds against Ava. “Not out here, but-”

Ava snapped, “Azazel,” with the firm tone of warning.

“Hey!” Shawn yelled, a laugh barely stifled beneath his shock. “There’s no need to bring my birth name into this!”

Tara’s ears perked up, prickling a little at the tips. She hadn’t even considered the concept of fake names when she had been daydreaming about their true forms. “What’s Ava’s real name?” she asked, her words spilling out of her mouth all in one garbled noise.

Shawn looked to Ava for approval. Ava gave a shrug of disinterest.

“Zibiah,” he said.

“Zibiah.” Tara tested the name on her tongue.

“It translates to gazelle in English,” Shawn added.

Tara couldn’t hold back a surprised giggle. When both demons stared at her curiously, she explained. “Ava seems more the predator than the prey. If she’s a gazelle, I can’t imagine what kind of person has the name ‘cheetah’!”

Shawn chuckled, leant forward, and mumbled something to Ava.

Ava rolled her eyes and said, “No, that means to be dishonest.”

“Oh, English is confusing.”

“You’ve been here longer than me!” she reminded him with another laugh.

“When I first escaped into this realm it was in a completely different country! English is my second human language, might I remind you!”

“What is your first?” Tara asked.

“Italiano.”

“Why move to England?”

His eyes twinkled as he asked, “Have you ever visited Italy?”

“Only once, on a family holiday to Rome.”

“Notice anything in particular?”

“That everyone drives like they have nothing to live for?”

“That there are an awful lot of holy sites, artefacts and relics. Rome, in particular, is favoured by angel enforcers. I love the country, but all the major cities were always crawling with undercover angels. It’s very hard to live in the countryside without documentation, connections, etc. Big cities offer better chances of anonymity and work without prying questions.”

“Well, I’m glad you made your way here.”

Shawn laid his hands on their little table and grinned salaciously.“You’re too cute, Tara. I might just have to make a move on you myself.”

An uncomfortable flush swept over Tara’s body. Even knowing he was joking, the attention made her feel self-conscious.

Ava growled, “Back off goat-boy.”

“So, how do you tell an angel from a demon?” Tara squeaked, eager to change the subject back to them. “And do fallen angels look like demons? Or are all demons just fallen angels?”

The pair were laughing before she had finished her stream of questions, sporting matching expressions of baffled amusement. They looked at each other and Shawn shrugged, apparently giving Ava right of way in the conversation.

“Fallen angels are still angels - you can’t become a demon. Shawn, Imogen and I were all born demons. We are our own species but very similar to angels - I suppose like humans and apes?”

It was Tara’s turn to laugh. “I had wondered why Shawn behaved like a monkey.”

“Hey!” Shawn yelped with faux offence. “We are the superior beings! We have free will.”

“Yes, we are free to do just about anything except leave the awful realm we were born in,” Ava added.

“So, angels get the cushy living space but all the rules?” Tara summarised.

Ava took a sip from her mug, nodded, and said, “Exactly.”

“That doesn’t mean the ones that live up there actually follow the rules though,” said Shawn. “It just means they haven’t been caught yet.”

“Yeah, the stream of fallen angels entering Hell has been pretty consistent since the beginning of time. It doesn’t matter how the laws or the punishments change, they continue to do as they please until they get noticed.”

“That makes the rules seem kinda pointless,” Tara mused aloud.

“Careful, that’s a law broken right there!” Shawn warned her with a grin and wink.

“No questioning the law,” Ava explained with a long wagging finger. “Who knew my precious Tiara was such a rebel?”

Tara blushed and buried her face in her own oversized mug.

“But you said the laws and punishments change. How would they change if no one questions them?”

“They change as the angels at the top of the command chain change their stance on what is morally acceptable.”

“What that really means is: if an archangel decides they want to do something that would break a law, they will petition and debate as to how it is no longer the banishment-worthy offence it once was. Once they have convinced the other archangels, it is taken to a vote and removed as a law.”

Tara considered this for a few moments before asking, “And then would the previous angels convicted of breaking that law be pardoned?”

Both demons exploded into raucous laughter.

“Maybe I should apply for roles as a stand-up comedian in Hell,” Tara grumbled sulkily. Would there ever be a day when these two didn’t find every naive thing she said hilarious?

“Sorry, Tara. It just doesn’t work like that.”

“The archangels would never allow a fallen angel back into Heaven. Once they’ve been touched by the lower realms, they are tainted.” The way Ava said tainted was like that of a narrator of a spooky kids’ TV show. Or how Tara’s uncle would say ‘boogie monster’.

“And that rule applies to all species - including humans,” Shawn continued.” So even if you make it to Heaven after a long life of acting saintly, you can still fuck up when you get there and get sent tumbling down, never to return.”

Tara clapped her hands together and stood. “Well, that’s just about enough to send me into an existential crisis, so I think I’ll start on our Christmas specials signs for the window.” She shimmied out from the table, pushing the chair in after her. “I need something to concentrate on that isn’t my impending doom.”

“Our Autumn specials have only been up for six weeks!” Shawn protested with a pout.

It was her turn to school the demons. “Yes, but we have now entered November, and to humans that means the countdown to the fat man has begun.”

“We’re… two days in…” Ava mumbled, seemingly lost.

“Which means we are two days late. As soon as Halloween is over, Christmas begins,” Tara explained as she collected up the plastic re-usable signs and colourful markers from the storage cupboard near the bathroom.

“Do humans ever take a break from finding excuses to drink sugary drinks and eat mountains of food?” Ava wondered aloud.

“Between New Year’s Day and Pancake Day many humans try to go the gym, but not a lot succeed from what I have heard,” said Shawn.

Tara spread her arts and crafts materials across the largest table in the cafe. “Ava, you’ve lived on Earth for a few years and you work with humans. Do they not talk about these things?” she asked distractedly as she began sketching out a gingerbread man.

“The guys at the garage all keep to themselves and so do I. It’s not safe for demons to mix too much with humans and get involved in their personal lives.”

“Weird, Shawn has been all up in my business since he joined the Java at the start of the year.”

Shawn had the grace to let out an embarrassed laugh but quickly slipped into the back room behind their counter before Ava could grill him. From the banging and crashing of metal that followed, Tara could only hope he was loading the dishwasher and not starting a one-man band. Ava sipped her coffee but didn’t budge, apparently watching Tara scribble was enough entertainment for her. It took a further three coffees and two hours before she finally vacated her seat and the cafe.

In their favourite little Italian restaurant, on the following Wednesday’s date night, Ava began to act strangely. Her black eyes darted about the warm room as though afraid to fall still. Her hands, clenched into fists, were tucked into her elbows. Tara shifted awkwardly in her seat as she took notice of her girlfriend’s strange behaviour.

Their starters had been great - the same choices they always made. But in between their second round of breadsticks and their main dishes, a figure had stolen Ava’s attention. They were sat at the table adjacent to the pair, roughly six feet of carpeted gap away. They were dressed slouchily, in loose-fitting jeans and a hoodie that swamped them, disguising their figure.

Tara couldn’t get a clear look at the person’s face beneath the shadow of their hood, but if they could tell that Tara was scrutinising them, they clearly were not bothered by it. They continued to spoon soup into the dark cavern that hid their features, their arm moving the spoon back and forth methodically, robotically.

“Are you okay?” Tara murmured, lowering her eyes as she did so as not to draw attention to her words.

“Fine,” Ava grunted.

“O-okay.”

The wet slurp and metal clank of the stranger’s spoon was the only sound permeating their tense bubble for a few minutes. Neither Ava nor Tara took another bite of bread, but Tara got the impression that those demon super-powers may be in use. She hadn’t worked out a full and comprehensive list of Ava’s special abilities but sometimes she could just… feel… that they were in use. The burn of Ava’s concentration pressing against her like a heatwave.

Eventually, the waiter wandered over with their main dishes, plopping them onto the red tablecloth cheerfully and they thanked him quietly. The tense air surrounding them had no effect on the young man’s bouncy demeanour. He bumbled away, with free hands, blissfully unaware of the silent stand-off going on between Ava and the mystery person.

They ate in silence. For the first time ever, Ava didn’t request the dessert menu. They paid swiftly and without fuss. Usually Ava and Tara would fight over who paid but the sizzling glare that Ava gave her when the card machine approached kept Tara deadly still. Once their coats were on (and Tara’s fluffy pom pom scarf), they vacated the restaurant and Ava led them a few metres from the front door with stamping strides.

She halted so hard Tara almost head-butted her back.

Ava swung round and pulled her in close by the collar of her coat to mumble into her chilly ears, “I know we were supposed to have our week together starting tonight, but I’m going to need to cancel for now.”

The bargain from their face-off with the stool: a week spent at Ava’s with Tara wearing nothing but lingerie (picked out by her devious demon girlfriend) and shower sex where Tara had to… touch herself while Ava watched. As mortified as she had been when Ava had first made her demands, now that they had planned it, taken time off work and bought the sexy underwear… she was more than a little hurt to be cancelled on. Her duffle bag was packed and waiting in her living room for them to swing by after their date night and pick it up.

“Oh. That’s okay,” she mumbled. She hadn’t had enough time to hide her disappointment, it was probably caked all over her face.

“I’m really sorry, and it’s not anything to do with you,” Ava reassured her, taking her round face between her palms and squeezing her cheeks affectionately. “Something has come up that I need to sort out. Personal stuff.”

“Sure, I understand.”

“I need to get going. I’m sorry, but please text me when you get home.”

Tara’s mouth popped open a little as she realised her girlfriend wouldn’t be walking her back to her flat. “Oh, um, sure,” she babbled.

Ava had never let her walk anywhere alone while she was there to accompany her. Cancelling on her was one thing, but to be so desperate to get away from her that she would not escort her home had almost sent Tara into shock. Was the hooded figure an ex? One that Ava wanted another chance with? Was she worried to be seen with Tara in case this mystery person could get the right idea about their relationship and the wrong solution?

Ava gave her hand a lightning-fast squeeze and turned away, stalking into the night. Tara hovered for a few moments outside the restaurant, apparently struggling to function without a goodbye kiss.

She dawdled for a few minutes, making absolutely sure that Ava really wasn’t coming back, that she was serious about depriving Tara of a sayonara smooch. Then she tottered home, mildly disorientated, and relayed the night to Daisy who was almost as upset as she was - Daisy had been expecting to have the flat to herself for a week. Apparently, all the wine in the crate by the fridge was for a get-together she was planning… They cracked into a bottle each and moaned about every aspect of their lives until they slurred and then slipped into sleep on the couch.