Page 2 of Demons Dig Donuts

The mustached man currently trying to pick up Indy wasn’t entirely unattractive, but Indy wasn’t in the mood. He was tired from a long shift at Mr. Kalt’s club, Lovecraft’s, and the only thing he wanted to do was get a large caramel frappe with two shots of espresso to sip on while he ran a few errands. It was his day off, and he was certainly not going to waste it on this moron.

Being hit on wasn’t uncommon, of course.

Indy knew he was beautiful.

He was tall, thin, and his porcelain white skin was flawless. The terms of his deal with Mr. Kalt halted his aging, so there wasn’t a wrinkle anywhere to be found. His hair was blond, but he dyed it brilliant shades of blue with blue-violet highlights so it wasn’t a singular flat color. His features were fair, usually painted with glamorous makeup and fake lashes, and he loved to accentuate his eyes.

His left was blue. The right one was too, but it had a large splash of brown around the rightmost outer rim. Because of the way light played with the colors, it gave the illusion that he had true heterochromia, when in fact it was only partial.

People were always captivated.

As they should be.

“I’m sure you hear this all the time,” the man blabbered on.

Ah, here it came.

“But you have the most beautiful eyes,” he gushed. “Wow, they’re like David Bowie or something. I just—”

“Tom, please stop talking to me,” Indy said flatly.

The man blinked in confusion. “My name isn’t Tom. It’s—”

“Ah ah.” Indy held up his hand. “I don’t care what it is. I’ve just decided to call you Tom. I used to have a dog named Tom. Hated him. So, as I was saying, Tom, please stop talking to me.” He jerked his head forward. “It’s your turn to order.”

Tom—or whoever he was—was completely flabbergasted, but he turned toward the counter to mumble something to the barista.

Indy rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

It really was hard being beautiful.

Coffee acquired, he headed outside. He was aware of people staring at him, but that was fine. In addition to being gorgeous, he had found working for a demon removed his inhibitions, since caring about what any mortal man, woman, or anyone in between thought seemed pretty silly in comparison.

He wore tiny denim shorts, a Queen T-shirt he’d cut into an off-the-shoulder crop top, plus ripped fishnets, purple combat boots, and an assortment of colorful jewelry. He had always loved bracelets and necklaces, but the only earrings he wore now were gauged hangers. He’d stretched out his ears to accommodate larger jewelry when he was younger and the holes had never shrunk back down all the way.

Today’s set were made from quartz, polished and curved into the shape of the letter J so they would slide into his ears and hang—hence the name for the style. These were simple enough, though they had runes for protection carved along their length.

Fashionable? Yes.

Functional? Also yes.

Living in the hidden world of monsters had taught Indy not to ever let his guard down. After all, there was no telling what sort of nonsense might happen. A naga who was shedding might catch an attitude, a pixie could try to trick him into a heinous deal, or…

A man could jump out from the shadows of an alley to drag Indy into it.

Except that was really happening.

Right now.

Indy shouted and promptly slammed his coffee into the man’s head, dumping it all over him. “Get the fuck off me, fucker!”

“Hey, hey!” The man swatted the cup away as coffee ran down his face.

Indy wished it had been hot.

He wrenched himself away, ready to slam his boot right into the man’s groin. “Fucking let go!” The man still had his left wrist, and Indy tried to break free. “I swear to fuck, I will kill you!”

“Wait! Please!” the man pleaded. “This is important! You know, don’t you? No, you must or you wouldn’t be here.”