The Angelic Demon

Ch. 3 - I Know This Looks Weird

"Since when were you Irish?" asked Ezra, raising a curious eyebrow. Then he coughed. "That smells like a lot of blood."

Ben shot Ezra a glare before returning his gaze to the undead man sitting on the floor, wiping the blood off his face with a look of disgust. He got up soon enough and walked fluently - even with a bounce in his step - to the sink. There, he took off his glasses and gasped as if surprised that his eyesight was that bad. He wet a paper towel, then, and began to wipe his face down.

"I know this looks weird," said Stirling casually, "and believe me, it's... well, it's really weird for me, too. I've not been here since... gosh, I can't even remember. It's been one-thousand seven-hundred and ninety-nine years. When was that - well, whatever."

He turned around, sighing quietly and interlacing his fingers, setting them in front of him. He gazed at the two of them, squinting in confusion, and then turned around and put his glasses back on. Able to see now, Stirling looked at the two in mild irritation.

"What the Hell is going on?" Ben growled, rising to his feet. Ezra's hand slipped off his shoulder and fell numbly to his side.

Stirling clicked his tongue thoughtfully, then took on a look of minor surprise. "People still believe in Hell," he said flatly, "that's wonderful. But it also doesn't matter in the slightest - how did I die? Do you think this body is going to Hell? If he died of the plague, he's probably fine."

The bathroom went quiet. Soon Ezra chuckled. "So, uh... Stirling, how are you... alive?"

"Ezra..." Ben muttered, casting a nervous glance to the other.

"Right! That's probably a good question. I," he said, pointing to himself, "am a demon. I died a couple centuries ago and lived in Hell up until now and then I just poofed back onto the Surface like a normal mortal except I've got a task now and that task, Ben, is to take care of you and make you a better person. Clearly, you need help considering this man just died in your hands - oh, they're all bloody..."

The tall boy examined Ben's hands with a look of pity. "Bless your soul. It's always difficult when friends die of the plague, isn't it?"

"Stop. Stop." Ezra put up his hands, shaking his head, chuckling. "You... don't expect us to believe that, right? Maybe- Maybe Stirling didn't even actually die and this is just a sick prank to get Ben expelled from school! Wouldn't be the first time."

"My name is Ewan, actually. I, uh... I'm from Ireland. Not... um...?"

"Fargo, North Dakota," Ezra said slowly, "and isn't Ewan a Scottish name?"

"Isn't Ezra a... Well, I don't know," retorted the demon, biting his lip. Once Ezra was silenced, he smiled politely and turned to Ben. "Right. So we're definitely going to be explaining our situation, but for now, I'd rather not bleed out, so... yes. Let's go. Your house, maybe?"

Ben sighed through his nose. "I'm not bringing you home, Stirling."

"For the love of - my name is Ewan. I'm a demon, not your... dead friend. And I know it's difficult to understand that when someone is gone, they're gone, but..." Stirling shrugged sadly. "I'm sorry."

"You never died," Ben growled. Part of him was relieved that Stirling was up and talking, but clearly, there had been some brain damage along the way. He didn't seem to remember dying by Ben's hands, though, so maybe that was good.

Ezra cleared his throat. "Well, we can't do my house, but we can do Ben's. We'll just sneak in the back."

This all just sounded like a bad, elaborate prank set for him.