Page 73 of Demons Dig Donuts

Luke worked for the twins, so it was curious he was here.

Maybe he was out on loan or something.

“So.” Indy paused only to slurp more coffee. “Is this a business thing? Need more tickets to get that Motley Crue mirror or it’s gonna fucking kill you?”

“Business,” Mr. Heiss replied shortly, giving Indy’s arm a squeeze before letting go. “Stay back and stay quiet.”

“That’s it? There’s nothing—”

“Shut. Up.”

Indy lifted the coffee as if to throw it at Mr. Heiss but decided he wouldn’t dare waste such a caffeinated treasure.

The door opened and an older white man with graying hair, wearing khaki slacks and a purple polo shirt with the Chuck E. Cheese logo embroidered on the breast, poked his head out. “I swear I’ll call the cops if you kids are back here again messing—” He froze when he saw the crowd waiting for him. “Oh.” His eyes bulged. “Mr. Heiss, please—”

“Luke,” Mr. Heiss said shortly.

Luke pounced right on top of the man with startling speed, tackling him through the open doorway and inside. The door remained open, and then Luke…

Oh God.

Oh Christ.

Indy cringed, unable to look away from Luke’s jaw unhinging like a cartoon snake to swallow the man whole. He could hear the bones crunching from here, and he suddenly didn’t want his coffee anymore.

“Something wrong?” Mr. Heiss asked innocently.

Indy groaned. “There was definitely a less gross way to get inside.”

“Oh, that mortal wasn’t going to stop us.”

“Then why…?”

“Luke didn’t have breakfast.”

“Are humans gluten free? I’ll have to ask him.” Indy grimaced.

Azazel flicked his cigarette away and reached for the door, holding it open for Mr. Heiss and Indy to enter. Luke had managed to gulp down an entire human being in a matter of seconds and was already back on his feet, calmly dabbing at his chin with a handkerchief.

The space was cluttered with boxes of cheap prizes, candy, soda syrup, and a big bulletin board covered in flyers, notes, and a schedule.

From another door came a young man with brown skin, dark eyes, and thick, wavy black hair. He wore a purple polo like the man who had been eaten, but he had jeans on instead and a purple belt. His name tag read Jimjam. He had thick-framed glasses that had a retro vibe, and he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five or so.

But then he spoke.

“About time,” Jimjam grumbled, his voice inhumanly deep and resonant. “I didn’t think you were going to show.”

“Unforeseen delay,” Mr. Heiss replied.

Jimjam sneered in Indy’s direction.

Indy sneered right back.

Yes, maybe it was Indy’s fault they weren’t exactly punctual, but fuck this guy.

Definitely not human.

Indy’s thumb glowed purple with a hint of brown, so he was Terrestrial. Familiar, maybe a werewolf.