Nakoma

Once we were dried off, we changed out of our swimsuits, and packed ourselves into Chris’s van. His hand reached to touch the radio, but a glare from Dica made him recoil. I guess he remembered that Christian Radio was like nails on a chalkboard to demons. By the time we pull out of the parking lot, the sky was a deep blue illuminated by stars hanging above.

Chris drove silently for a moment or two before he spoke. “Are you sure you’re old enough to drink?” He voiced his concern in the tone of a father, warm and sincere. While I wasn’t old enough to drink in America, I was able to drink in other countries. However, I wasn’t particularly a fan of the taste of most types of alcohol.

“I’m 2,064,” Dica chuckles from passenger seat. “I think I’m old enough to drink.” Every time I hear how old he is it shocks me. It was so hard to imagine that his lifetime traveled back Before Christ. Briefly I wonder if he ever met Jesus.

“I was there for the invention of alcohol,” Puella responds bluntly. While Dica was old, Puella was ancient. I had to give her credit though, she definitely did not look it.

“I drink in Hell all the time,” Colt reassures Chris. I however, was very nervous at the idea of three drunk demons running amuck. I could see it now; more holes in the walls, prank phone calls to the Vatican, gross sobbing as they talked about daddy issues. Lucifer couldn’t have been that great of a dad even though his name was over Colt’s and Puella’s hearts.

“There’s no way you guys are that old,” Chris shakes his head with disbelief and laughs. “Man… I feel like a toddler!”

“If you’re a toddler, Noki’s a fetus,” Dica jokes.

“You basically all are to me,” Puella grumbles and looks out the window.

“Jeez, I didn’t think I was that young!” I laugh. “But I guess my lifetime is a lot shorter than yours…” I trail off. My whole life would come and go in the blink of an eye to them. I suddenly felt small and insignificant, like an ant.

“Is it hard being the oldest?” Colt asks Puella innocently.

“Hard… I suppose it is…” She responds vaguely. It seems like she was trying to avoid answering the question.

“So you’re the oldest?” I ask, trying to make conversation. I was curious to exactly what Puella had seen in her time alive.

“The very first,” she sighs.

“Impressive,” I remark, feeling the conversation die. I guess Puella really didn’t like talking about her age very much. She shrugs at my comment and goes back to looking intently out the window. Dica mumbles something and I catch the words “third oldest”. I was able to piece together that there must be one more child in between Dica and Puella. An eerie silence fills the car for a moment before Chris decides to fill it.

“So who had fun at the beach today?” He asks in true dad nature.

“I did!” Colt immediately cheers like a child.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I smile softly.

“It was… fine,” Puella says.

"Wish there was more to do there, I thought it would be more fun,” Dica complains.

"Maybe on our next day of free time we can go to a water park," I say jokingly. I instantly regret the comment, because as soon as the words leave my lips Colt looks over at me wide eyed.

“Really?” he asks, eyes sparkling with hope and excitement.

“Awesome!” Dica grins. “Can Chris drive us?”

“I was joking,” I defend myself. “But maybe.” Now that we had swimsuits it seemed like a shame to never use them again.

“Whoa, I’m just doing a favor for the church,” Chris grumbles. “I’m not a chauffeur.” I smile at his defensiveness. Puella perks up.

“Favors?” She asks. “You’re that pious that you’d drive around the Devil’s children?”

Chris thinks a moment before hesitantly responding. “Well… I’m a good Catholic man. When the church called me up telling me some demons and a Saint needed a lift… how could I say no?” He smiles at us in the rearview mirror. “Plus, Satan spawn or not, you’re a nice bunch.”

“You must have a lot of free time then...” Puella mutters.

“I guess I do…” Chris chuckles.

“Hey, he called us nice,” Dica speaks warmly. “I’m flattered.”

We pull into the parking lot of a liquor store. A flashing sign in the window declared that it was open. In fact, this whole building was plastered with signs stating many different things could be purchased here: beer, wine, lotto, etc. There were a few other cars in the parking lot, most of them were pretty beat up looking in comparison to Chris’s van.

"Alright…” Chris says, “I can't say I condone this behavior, but here we are." Puella immediately gets out of the car, followed by Colt then Dica.

"We'll be back out, thanks for the ride,” I say with a smile on my face and slide out of the car to follow the demons into the party store. Puella directly makes her way to the booze and appears to study each bottle carefully. I wasn’t planning on even trying to pick myself out anything until I realized I was pretty hungry and lunch had been forever ago. Colt looks around before turning to me.

“How much should we get?” he asks.

“Not too much please,” I beg before trying to find something non-alcoholic to drink. Puella reemerges from the aisle with a large bottle of vodka. Oh no…

“Can we get something, I don’t know, fruiter?” Dica complains.

A smirk plays on Puella’s lips. “Oh, this is for me.”

“I think Dica’s fruity enough,” I mumble, recounting the time at the beach. I grab a sports drink and feel content with myself.

Dica grins widely at me. “Noki, I love you.” He laughs. I playfully wink at him and grab a bag of Skittles. I look to find Puella had made her way to the counter to pay. She sets the vodka on the counter, and pulls out some money. Beside the counter is another person, a male with shaggy brown hair and lustful eyes that appear to be checking Puella out. While I couldn’t blame the guy for staring, it was coming off as pretty creepy. He scoots closer to her, and I sense an air of drunkenness about him.

“There’s no way you’re old enough for that, sweetie,” the man slurs with a smile on his flushed face. Puella ignores him, proceeds to flash an ID at the cashier, and hand him her cash. Realizing that I would not be able to purchase the alcohol for the boys, I hand Dica the shiny black credit card the church gave me, feeling another wave of guilt set in.

“C’mon,” the drunken man laughs, “You too good to talk to me? What’s your name, angel?” This causes Puella to crack a smile.

“Oh, I’m nowhere near ‘angel’.”

The man laughs again. “That’s good to hear,” he lowers his voice to a poor seductive tone. “I prefer the… sinful type.”

“Heh,” Puella chuckles. “Appropriate word choice. Too bad you're not my type." The man seems stunned by her rejection and he appears to struggle to come to grips with it.

“Colty, Dica, do you have everything you need?” I ask.

Dica grabs a bottle off the shelf and waves it at me. “Imma go with this one,” he announces.

“Yeah, Noki, I’m good,” Colt replies with a bottle in his hands.

I turn my attention back to Puella and the drunkard who seems to have grown angry at her refusal. The three of us walk up to the counter and Dica glares at the man. The man, seemingly unaware of our stares, clamps a shaky hand down on Puella’s arm.

“Bein’ a bitch doesn’t suit you,” he grumbles.

Puella sighs at his touch and, in a flash, she grabs him and slams his head against the counter. The cashier yelps and jumps back from the register and a small gasp leaves my lips. Colt claps happily at Puella’s decision. The man slumps to the floor like a corpse.

“Killing people in public is bad, Puella,” Dica chides her casually.

She shakes her head and grabs her bottle. She begins to walk off, making sure to dig her heels into the man as she walks over him. “Well the man should have learned manners.”

I immediately drop to the ground to check his pulse to make sure he’s still with us. As I search for his pulse against his neck, Dica and Colt place their stuff on the counter seeming not to care one bit about a potentially dead man.

“Noki,” Dica says pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “Don’t touch dead things, it’s gross.” I wave him off and smile when I find the man’s pulse beating strongly as ever. I thank God that Puella didn’t just murder someone in front of me.

I sigh, “He’s alive.” Before placing my stuff on the counter. The worried cashier begins to scan out items quickly, almost forgetting to ask for ID.

“What, really?” Dica asks with awe. “Last time she did that, some guy’s head exploded.”

“Wait, what?!” I ask. The cashier is giving us a confused and nervous look all the while as he shakily asks for ID. Dica pulls his ID out of his wallet and shows it to the man in front of us.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “You’ve seen what happens when she hit me. Can you imagine some frail human?” A bloody image pops into my head and I shudder it away. I look to Colt to distract myself and see he too is flashing an ID at the shaking cashier. I wonder what names are on them, but I decide not to check out of fear of looking more suspicious than we already did.

Dica swipes the card and the cashier reaches for the phone.

“Have… a nice n-night,” he stammers before quickly dialing 911.

“You too,” Dica says with a smile.

“Sorry for all the commotion,” I apologize.

We make our way out of the store and to the car where Puella is already waiting for us inside, about a fourth of the way into her bottle of vodka. My head was already pounding for her. We slip into the car and buckle ourselves up.

“Sorry that took so long,” I apologize to the two that had been waiting.

“It’s no problem,” Puella uncharastically giggles. Chris shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“Ready to go?” he asks

“Yeah,” I respond. But before we can take off, Dica waves the bottle in his hands in front of Chris’s nose.

“Want some?” he asks.

“Stop pestering Chris,” I scold him.

“I’m just being polite,” Dica defends himself.

“No thank you,” Chris gently refuses him. “I don’t drink and drive.” At least someone around here was responsible.

“Maybe later then,” Dica smiles at our driver.

“Hey Noki,” Colt calls to me. “Wanna share some of mine?” He brandishes a bottle of a very fruity flavored drink. I shake my head.

“No thanks,” I decline his offer. Pouting, he sticks out his bottom lip.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I’m just not the biggest fan.”

“Okay, more for me than,” he accepts my decision not to drink. The car falls silent, and I occupy myself by watching Puella down the bottle of vodka. Watching her drink was oddly mesmerising as I have never seen someone drink straight vodka so quickly. Within fifteen minutes or so we made it to the hotel we had been staying at. Chris pulled up to the front doors with a smile on his face.

“Here we are, everyone out,” he said in a fatherly voice. I wondered if he had kids at home.

“Thanks, Chris,” I smile at him.

"You’re still welcome to stay and drink if you want," Dica offers Chris, but he declines.

"Thank you, but my wife is expecting me home soon. Maybe someday I’ll sit down and have a drink with a demon."

Dica laughs and waves him off. “Looking forward to it! Feel free to summon me anytime.”

Puella stumbles out of the car last, only a third of her bottle remaining. She walks over to the passenger window to offer her thanks to Chris, or at least I think that’s what she was trying to do. Instead all that came out of her mouth were gurgles, giggles, and vague “thank you”s.

“Good night,” Chris smiles at us one last time and drives off. We then make our way into the hotel.