On the bus ride in to Boston, Kyle put on the Bluetooth headset he had bought a few weeks earlier. Even though he knew it was against school rules for him to be making personal calls – or at least pretending to - while on the clock, he much preferred the idea of getting scolded to getting caught talking to himself. And since he had gone right to bed the afternoon before, he hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Ryka.

You look like one of those self-important Wall Street assholes.

“Why did I want to talk to you again?”

Must be love, the demon teased.

Kyle ignored the remark. Now was not the time for that discussion. “Anyhow, I meant to ask you – what exactly did you get promoted for? Since you’re up here and all.”

Maybe for that soul I sent down over the winter? Lord Satan’s almost as much of a pushover as you are.

“Oh.” Four months earlier, Ryka had killed and condemned a man who had been attempting to rob a store where Kyle and his cousin had been shopping. “Wait, did you just say the Devil was a pushover?”

Well, it’s more like he plays favorites.

“If you’re a favorite, why did he kick you out?”

Beats me. That’s why I’m happy to stay up here as long as possible. Girly bastard.

“What? He’s a pushover and he’s girly? What does that even mean?”

Just what it sounds like. He’s pretty like a girl. In front of the demons anyways. He puts on quite a show for the damned, though, let me tell you. But of course he’s pretty. He was basically an angel, after all. That’s why I never call him Lucifer. It makes it even worse.

Kyle was too astonished to properly respond. Of all the words he would have imagined describing the Devil, “girly” had never even once crossed his mind. Not that he doubted Ryka. For a brief moment, he thought that one day he’d be finding out for himself. And then he remembered that although he’d be going to Hell with Ryka, he very likely would never see him again once they were there. He’d see the Devil the rest of the damned saw, not the Devil the demons all knew. 

Maybe it won’t have to be like that, Ryka said, trying to reassure him. But that’s a long time from now. Don’t worry about it.

“You’re right.” Ever since Ryka had confessed to him, he had realized just how attached he was to the demon. The thought of not being able to talk to him ever again made his stomach knot. 

Ryka could surely tell what he was thinking, but said nothing. In fact, he kept quiet for the rest of the bus ride. Which Kyle didn’t mind. One of the parents chaperoning the trip had been giving him dirty looks, but those stopped as soon as he took out the earpiece and started reviewing some history with the kids. 

Having grown up not far outside of the city, Kyle had walked the Freedom Trail dozens of times as a child. But his happy memories of Boston’s historic landmarks quickly evaporated when he tried to walk into Old North Church. He was at the back of the line, trailing behind his class, trying to make sure no one snuck off. As the last student entered the building, he tried to follow, only to feel like he had body-checked a brick wall. 

Dazed, he stumbled backwards, catching his balance at the last possible second. You almost landed on your ass. That was great. Try it again.

“Shut up,” Kyle muttered, watching helplessly as the rest of the group started their tour of the church. 

“Aren’t you coming, Mr. Saunders?” Mackenzie called. She had been the last one inside. 

“Apparently not.”

“Oh. But ….”

“I’ve been here plenty of times. So go on.”

A little hesitantly, she rejoined her classmates. Kyle sat down outside the church and stared solemnly at his shoes. “That was a bit embarrassing.”

But it was damn funny.

“Thanks.”

Aw, come on. It didn’t really hurt. Just your ego.

“I guess. But I know I’m going to have to explain why I didn’t go in.”

I’m sure some of them can guess. Sinner. By his tone, it was meant to be teasing. But there was still truth to it, as there was with everything Ryka said. After all, he couldn’t lie. Don’t get all melancholy now. 

“Sorry. It’s hard to think of lies sometimes, though.” One of his classes undoubtedly knew why the building was closed to him, but they weren’t the only students on this trip. And he didn’t want the rest to have to learn. 

You’ll figure it out.

He was sure he would, eventually, but was saved this time. As the group exited the church and gathered around where he had been waiting, the only thing he was asked was if he felt well enough to continue with the trip. “Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

As they continued on their way through the North End, Mackenzie hung back and fell into step with him. “I told them you weren’t feeling good, and wanted to get some air. Is that okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” They went on in silence for a few minutes before Kyle asked, “How are you and your Mom doing?”

It had been nearly five months since her abusive father had tried to kill him, and Ryka had protected him the best way he knew. He had been meaning to ask all this time, but felt that mentioning it during class - or even asking her to stay after - would make her uncomfortable. “We’re good. My grandma lives in town, and we’re staying with her. I mean, Dad moved away, but Mom doesn’t like being in that house anymore.”

“That’s understandable. I’m glad you’re both okay. I still feel awful about what happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mackenzie said bitterly. But the anger washed quickly from her face when she realized it sounded like she was blaming Ryka. “I mean, it’s not his fault. It’s Dad’s. Please don’t let him -”

“Sh, it’s okay. We knew what you meant.”

With a sheepish smile, she thanked him then moved ahead again to talk to her friend, Melissa. It’s amazing I got a promotion at all. What with you making people feel better and all that kind of shit.

“Sorry. But you picked me, remember?”

Sometimes I still wonder why.

“How sweet.”

Ryka started to reply, but Kyle never heard what he said. His students suddenly swarmed around him, asking questions about the plans for the rest of the day. While he answered, he realized that if he’d never loosed Ryka on them, he most likely would have spent the day chasing these kids around the city. He still felt bad, but to be able to enjoy their company, it had been more than worth it.

***

“It’s so awesome that we have field trips two weeks in a row,” Nick blurted out in the middle of a lecture.

The whole class laughed, and Kyle just shook his head. “I’m glad you’re excited about the trip tomorrow, but please try to pay attention. There’s still a test next week.”

“Sorry.”

Really, Kyle was just as amazed as his students. Just the week before, they had gone to Boston. But after hearing that most of his students were also reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s works in their English class, he had suggested a joint trip with the English department to visit Salem, the author’s birthplace. Since the principal was still mostly terrified of him, he hadn’t argued at all when Kyle had floated the idea.

Kyle knew he wasn’t the only one that had loved having two field trips in two weeks. Besides the students - who he knew would give anything to get out of classes for a day - most of the teachers involved were also looking forward to leaving the premises. It was April, and the weather had finally improved. After a long New England winter, spring fever was setting in.

Ryka was the only one who hadn’t said anything about going to Salem, and it bothered Kyle. Usually, he was the one begging for Kyle to do something besides hang out at school or home. So, on the bus the next day, Kyle once again slipped on his phone’s earpiece. “You’ve been disturbingly quiet about this trip.”

Salem’s just as notorious in Hell as it is on Earth. 

Kyle shuddered to hear that. “For what happened there? Really?”

The so-called Witch Trials? Yup. The people that were put to death weren’t witches, but their accusers were. Well, they were Satanists. And not the goody-two-shoes kind around today. Some of this Ryka had explained to him once before. That most people who claimed to worship the Devil did it as a political statement. There were some groups that still dabbled in the arcane, though, damning themselves with blood rituals and the like, but the majority were good people. Much to the demon’s dismay. 

“Why? What was their goal?”

They wanted power, or revenge, or both. Most of the people killed for being witches had done something to piss off their accusers. And they had demons to help supply evidence. Those Satanists had more than enough blood on their hands by the time they died to ensure they had no chance of reaching Heaven. 

One shared his body, but it still made his skin crawl to ask. “Demons?”

Those assholes sacrificed to Lord Satan, tried to call up some assistance. To help speed along their damnation, he sent parasites to a few, or demon companions to others. Which is where your idea of familiars comes from. Kyle knew this was rare, to actually have your wish to Satan granted. It was only when he wanted to have fun, Ryka had told him, that he responded to summonings. And what fun it must have been to watch the fear and paranoia spread through the small city.

Pushing that thought aside, Kyle continued, “Why here? Similar things were happening in Europe, too.” 

Don’t worry - they didn’t get left out. But it was easier here. Salem’s one of the places in the mortal world where immortals’ powers are unusually strong. Not that the Satanists balked at much their new friends suggested, but if they did, it was easy enough for the demons to do what they wanted.

“Even the parasites?”

Mm hmm.

“Wait – are you saying they could just control their hosts?” 

I walked you back home, remember? It’s really easy when you’re unconscious, but even still, I can control you a little. Not that he’d been hoping for a demonstration, but Kyle got one all the same, his fists clenching and opening several times while he watched on, helpless.

Nothing like learning he was basically a puppet. He remembered his cousin saying he had somehow shambled back to the house that night of the incident at the gas station. Kyle had tried very hard not to think about that since. 

“Great. No more of that, please.” When Ryka disregarded his request, Kyle continued delving into his impromptu history lessons. “Did they really burn them? The victims.”

I know, someone told you that was bullshit. They set those poor bastards up to be burned at the stake, drowned, drawn and quartered, hanged, you name it. And anyone who tried to turn the accusations back on the Satanists found themselves at the end of the noose. As much as some of those demons hated their hosts, they were still too proud to get caught. And it was much easier for them to protect their hosts in Salem.

Kyle was trying to imagine what it would be like if Ryka not only hated him, but had the ability to completely control their body when the demon continued. Even though it’s day, I could probably summon myself without a problem. Although that promotion or whatever the fuck it was probably didn’t hurt, either. But don’t worry about that other part, stud.

“Uh, oh. Th-thanks. And please don’t do that. But why do you sound upset?” The joy in his voice at describing human suffering had vanished quickly. 

If something happened, I don’t think I could stop myself. It wouldn’t take much, Master. I love you. I don’t like it when you’re not happy. And you don’t like what I do when you’re not happy.

The thought made Kyle understandably nervous. All it would take was him getting blocked from walking into an old church or a graveyard, or some other such mildly annoying incident, and a raging demon would suddenly appear in his students’ midst. “I appreciate it. But I can’t imagine what could happen that would be that bad. And please try not to overreact. Unless I’m being mugged or something, there’s really no need for you to interfere. Okay?”

Yes, Master.