“It’s odd isn’t it? Me being a demon and everything, eating in the caf’ of a school called “Golden Crucifix”” mused Frezak as he eyed the grapefruits.
“It’s called “Golden Cross”, at least try to get it right…”
“Cross, Crucifix, same thing. Stupid name for a school if you ask me.”
“The names you would give to schools would be “Meat Farm” or “Charcoal”…”
“So? What’s wrong with those?”
“Nothing…” sighed Grokenos, already growing tired.
“Do you think that they serve holly water here?” he continued as he helped himself to some toast.
“If they did, they would have used it on you as soon as you came through the front door.”
“It’s a good think I came in from the back doors then!” said Frezak, his grin growing wider.
Grokenos started to eat his cornflakes, ignoring the fact that the demon was reheating its toast with its breath.
He always wanted to be human and sometimes tried to forget his predicament but things kept happening around him and Frezak. It either seemed that they were attracted to paranormal events or, even worse, it was them that caused them.
At least it had its benefits, he mused, looking at his time-table.
They managed to get posts at the school instead of being regular students. He worked in the science and computer rooms, sweeping floors, washing equipment, repairing computers and making software for the students. Frezak wrote short stories for the school newspaper and did odd-jobs. Not odd-jobs as in what ever came up but odd-jobs as in jobs that were, well, odd.
This also meant that they could keep a better eye around the place.
“Did you remember your phone?” asked Grokenos
“Uuummm, yeah, no, maybe...” said Frezak, spraying toast all over the table.
“Good thing I dropped it into your pocket.”
“Don’t you mean “put it”?”
“No, “drop” was definitely the word I wanted to use. Who knows what you keep in those pockets these days…”
This was indeed true. The jacket was covered in invisible runes giving it the power of having bottomless pockets. Grokenos was against this kind of magic because Frezak was the kind of person who picked up anything off the street and put it in them, regardless of smell or movement.
This meant that his pockets were the homes of many small furry creatures, causing it to squeak/growl/chitter occasionally.
This also meant that he categorically refused to have it washed because their mother always asked them to empty their pockets: a feat that Frezak never took lightly.
Grokenos stared at the students in the cafeteria, lost in his thoughts. He noticed a small teen as she sat down alone at a table not far away. She was about seventeen years old, about the same age as his human form, and wore simple yet very fashionable clothes. She had brown hair that went up to her shoulders and tanned skin.
“Something wrong bro?” asked Frezak
Grokenos turned round to face him and discovered the demon feeding one of the mice from his pockets with the crumbs from his breakfast.
“What the?? I told you not to feed them in public!”
“Mice get hungry too you know...” Frezak answered back, eyeing him suspiciously.
He got up, placed the mouse in his pocket with a couple of slices of bread and picked up his platter.
“Anyway, got to hurry, have to go to the kitchens to help with the plumbing, something blocking the drains or something like that...”
“See you later.” said Grokenos, turning round to face the young girl, only to see that she already left.