#startle response

Ilya’s stomach growled. Dee opened his eyes and lifted his head from the couch. Ilya glanced up from their book, cheeks going a little pink.

“Hungry?” Dee said with a shy smile.

Ilya chuckled. “Yeah, a bit.” They marked their place with a scrap of paper and closed the book. “I… wow. I didn’t realize it’s so late. I don’t think I ever ate lunch.”

Dee sat up, furrowing his brow. “Hmm… no, I don’t think so. I’m sorry. I… I forget you have to eat so often.”

Ilya tilted their head. “I guess you’ve only had this body for… for a few months. Makes sense.”

“No.” Dee sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He stared at the wood, twisted his hands together. “No, I… I didn’t need to eat, even before.”

The silence between them stretched out for a beat, a breath, several.

“Because…?”

“Because the girl’s soul was… was gone,” Dee murmured. “And I didn’t need to eat to sustain her body.”

Dee kept his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ilya slowly nod. “When you… when I invited you to eat with us. And you were so frightened. M-makes sense.”

Dee chewed his lip. “I still can eat,” he said quietly. “I just… don’t need to.”

Ilya set down the book and reached out, covering Dee’s hands with one of theirs. He squeezed their fingers and looked up at them. They had tears in their eyes. When he offered them a wan smile, they smiled back.

Their stomach growled again.

“Let’s get you fed, Ilya,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and reaching out both hands to them. He could help them to their feet; he marveled at his own strength. They pushed their face into the crook of his neck and wrapped their arms around him. He smiled as he hugged them back, holding them tightly. They kissed the side of his neck and wandered into the kitchen.

“Do you want anything in particular?” Dee said as he opened the pantry. His eyes landed on chips, pancake mix, cans of soup. The fridge opened behind him.

“Hmm,” Ilya hummed. “Something savory. I’m… I don’t feel like cooking, but it doesn’t look like we have much food in the house.”

“Savory,” Dee mumbled. “Savory.” He peered into the pantry. There was pasta and glass jars of sauce… It would be a quick meal, easy to make. Or perhaps—

“We could also order in,” Dara said, close enough behind Dee that he could hear the exhale of her breath on the first word.

He shrieked and jumped. Flames leapt from his hand and caught the wall. He skittered away from the angel, and she stared back at him with alarm in her eyes.

Ilya stood frozen, staring at the fire as it began to crawl up the wall. Dara leapt to the sink, grabbed the fire extinguisher from beneath it. She quickly put out the flames. Dark gray smoke hung in the air. Overhead, the smoke alarm beeped shrilly. Dara reached up and bumped the reset button with the edge of the extinguisher.

Dee’s ears rang in the silence.

“Wh-what was that?” Ilya breathed.

Dee swallowed hard and hid his hands behind his back. “Um…” He backed up against the wall, eyes darting between Ilya and Dara.

Evangeline wandered into the kitchen. “Someone trying to cook something in here?” she said, nose wrinkling from the smoke.

“No,” Dara said. She set down the fire extinguisher, then crossed to the window and opened it. Chilly air raised goosebumps on Dee’s arms. “No, he…” She wet her lips. “Dee… have you… always… been able to do that?”

“N-no,” Dee whispered. Tears threatened. “No, I… I’m sorry, it w-won’t happen again—”

“What happened?” Evangeline said, staring from Dee to Dara and back.

“He… he lit the house on fire,” Ilya murmured.

Dee whimpered and slid down the wall, tears rolling down his cheeks. He stuffed his hands into his armpits. He was shaking. “It w-was an accident,” he pleaded.

“No, I… I know,” Ilya said, dropping to their knees beside him. They placed a hand on his shoulder. “How did you… do that?”

Dee stared up at them, trembling. They weren’t angry; there was even the hint of a smile threatening at the edges of their mouth. He looked to the angels still standing over him. They stared at him in astonishment.

“I… I learned that I could do it… over the winter,” he said weakly.

“So you could not do this before you died,” Dara said.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I… I would never have let the powers hurt them if I—”

Ilya’s hand tightened on his arm. He covered their hand with his. Their brow was furrowed, their mouth starting to open as if to protest.

Dara nodded. “I understand,” she said, her harsh expression softening.

Dee let out a breath. “But when I lived in the shack, it was so cold, so I… I stole candles and I just… knew. I knew I could do this, somehow. So I…” Carefully, he raised his right hand – and snapped his fingers. A small flame flared to life above his hand.

Ilya flinched away. Dara and Evangeline stood staring down at him, unmoving.

“Remarkable,” Evangeline breathed. “I’ve never known a demon who could do such a thing. Have you?”

“No,” Dara said. “But then… we have never long spoken with many demons.”

Dee let the flame go, then raised his gaze to the angels. “I can control it,” he said. “I can… I will learn to control it.”

“And I will learn not to startle you,” Dara said solemnly. “I think that’s what caused this to begin with.”

Dee hesitated. Even now, even after these weeks with them, he felt that he should be the one apologizing – groveling. Begging.

It used to be better at begging, I think.

“I will… be better,” he said. He felt the urge inside him to shift onto his knees. He felt the urge to push Ilya behind him, to push Ilya away, and beg.

“Oh, hush,” Dara said, not unkindly. “This is something knew. We will all learn how to be.”

“I think it’s neat,” Ilya whispered, drawing close to kiss Dee’s cheek.

Something stirred in Dee’s stomach. Relief, perhaps. Or joy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” they said, smiling. They got to their feet and helped Dee up. They tucked themself under Dee’s arm and turned a beatific grin on the angels. “Since Dee nearly burned the house down, I think I should get takeout.”

“Lord, you really will use any excuse, won’t you?” Evangeline said with a roll of her eyes.

“I will,” Ilya sighed, snatching up their phone. “Dee, how does Indian sound?”