"I dreamt that a demon was burning my house down," Finn said, peeling grey strands back as he leaned down to sip his beer.

Tom stared at him, wondering how he could afford to sit in a pub for 6 hours a day. But he had learned early on that he shouldn't ask questions like that. Locals came to drink, not to be judged. "Oh yeah?" he mumbled with his palm on his chin and his other hand drumming in tune with the music. His father had in fact, not made it out of bed in time for the pub to open.

"Yeah!" Finn declared, scratching at his stubbly chin. "And another one was screaming all kinds of abuse at me." He shook his head angrily. "I hate them."

"They're not as bad as they are in your dreams, especially the soul strippers." Tom remembered the first time he had seen a soul stripper on his walk home from school. He was only nine years old, so his dad had later explained that demon soul strippers took the bad part of the soul, while the angel took the good parts. He was fascinated by angels and demons working together. Tom remembered asking if all people were born with good and bad in them. His dad had chuckled and said, 'We are born blank. It's up to us what we fill our souls with.' Tom had never forgotten that.

"Yes they are! Look what happened to old scotty just yesterday! Glass in his throat. I thought he was going to die."

"The demon did nothing wrong to him. Scotty started it." Tom stood up straighter when Finn's friend joined them at the bar to tell them his dreams about horrible demons doing evil things. "You guys have been dreaming about them because of that fight last night. I've not once seen a demon start something first. They're not allowed."

"They're here to tempt us with their mischief and I-" Finn pointed at himself, as if that wasn't clear enough, "don't like it!"

His friend cheered and they downed their drinks. Tom refilled their glasses, but the demon slander continued. "This is a demon friendly pub. Imagine if things were reversed and demons had human friendly pubs, but when you walked into one, they were shit-talking about humans?"

"Humans are not born evil. We're not designed with bad intentions," Finn argued. "Demons don't deserve to be here and tempt us."

As the door to the pub opened and closed, momentarily letting in the cold spring air, Tom claimed, "Demons are not born evil either. They just have a bad rep. They don't deserve half of the abuse we give them." Finn and his friend rolled their eyes, but their arguing was never serious. Tom had known Finn all his life. He was practically part of the worn-out furniture. "What can I get you?" he asked, looking up and into the eyes of a demon.

Tom tensed; side-eyeing Finn who hadn't noticed a demon standing a few metres away.

"Strongbow," the demon replied with that same deep voice as yesterday.

Tom nodded and tried not to stare. The demon had covered his demon mark neck tattoo with tight black fabric that tucked into his dark blue hoodie. Like yesterday, his hood was up, so Tom only recognised the scar curling from his cheek and onto his chin. And like yesterday, he carried an old book.

He shivered when the demon dropped three pound coins into his palm. Finn turned and watched the demon bury himself into the corner of the pub. "Leave him alone," Tom murmured. "A soul stripper will just sit quietly. They're the calmest of the lot."

Finn grumbled under his breath and moved to the opposite side of the pub. Tom busied himself with jobs and served what little customers they had at midday. The horseracing was distracting the old locals. Tom listened to his playlist quietly in the background. He liked Sunday workdays. They were easy and calm, though he wasn't supposed to work today, and made his annoyance obvious when his dad finally surfaced.

"The pub has been open for two hours," Tom said, watching his dad yawn.

"I'm sorry son, I drank more than I thought I would last night."

"It's fine, just as long as I can finish two hours early on Friday."

"Absolutely. You got plans today?" Declan nodded his head at two more locals who hurried in from the cold.

"I was gonna hang out with Cal. But I don't know if he's up yet."

"Well, tell Cal that his father owes me at least forty pounds after last night." Declan and Cal's father had been best friends since primary school. So naturally, Tom and Cal had been best friends since birth.

"Tell him yourself."

Declan chuckled, resting a palm on the bar, marvelling proudly at the locals. His smile twitched when he saw the demon in the corner of the room. "Is that the one from last night?" he asked Tom who moved to sit on the opposite side of the bar.

"Yeah."

Declan then looked around again, this time with narrowed eyes. "If anyone's gonna start trouble, it'll be Phil and Torin over there. I'll keep an eye on them, but it doesn't look like they've noticed the demon yet."

"Good." Tom glanced towards the corner, freezing when the demon had stopped slouching over his book to stare in his direction. Tom didn't know whether to smile or nod his head. He looked away awkwardly, wondering if his hearing really was as good as the rumours.

After lunch, Cal visited the pub which was on the way to the village from his house. Tom greeted him with a scowl. "You do know you can reply to my texts, right?"

"Yeah." Cal sat next to him, saying hi to Declan with a fist bump. "We've been friends for so long, you should be able to read my mind by now."

Tom shook his head and pushed in the bar stool. "Are you hungover? You look it."

Cal's shoulder length blond hair bunched at the back. His eyes sat atop heavy bags. His t-shirt was on backwards and one trainer wasn't laced. "Are you not?" Cal questioned, bending to tie his laces.

"I was working last night."

"Boring." When Cal straightened up, he was glancing to the corner of the pub. "A demon reading a book. Never thought I'd see that."

Tom shushed him, pointing towards Phil and Torin who were watching the horses on the flat screen. Cal understood and they left without another word.

They mooched around the shops, met up with other friends and talked about their weekend. Tom had been the only one to work through it, but at least he had an interesting story to tell about a demon fight. His friends always listened intensely, shocked by the arrogance and confidence of the drunken oldies who had been loyal to the Glass Horn pub for decades.

He had dinner in the village and walked back to the pub with Cal when closing time was near. "What are you doing tomorrow?" Cal asked.

"Working."

Cal shook his head. "You're gonna work your life away. What are you saving up for?"

"My great escape." Tom switched his phone light on to avoid a muddy puddle. The old country road back to the pub twisted left and right, with no streetlamps. They had fought the council for years to put some lights down, or to even make a footpath. Drunken people stumbled this way from the pub and were a liability on the road. They had once cut indents into the hedges on either side, which only rattled the farmers.

"And have you decided yet on what you want to do?"

Tom often talked with Cal about leaving, though the truth was that he didn't want to leave the village, he just wanted to leave the pub-life behind. "Online learning, maybe."

"And study what?"

Tom shrugged as locals passed them, mumbling goodnight.

"Well, figure it out before you blink and you're suddenly in your forties with a beer belly and a strange obsession for football like your dad."

"I'll tell him you said that."

Cal snorted. "You better not. I don't want to be banned from the best pub around."

The pub loomed into view, looking like a cute country building surrounded by neatly cut grass. Clean stone walls stopped halfway up the building. White fresh walls covered the other half, meeting the thatched roof. Victorian windows exploded with soft yellow light from inside the pub. Round picnic tables with closed parasols dotted around the fresh lawn.

"This place has so much potential," Tom said sadly, staring at the big Glass Horn pub sign flapping in the wind.

"It really does. I reckon you'd have less fights if it was a demon-only pub."

"It's ridiculous how true that is." They said goodbye and Cal continued walking. His house was five minutes more down the winding road.

Tom entered the pub, only to be handed two big black binbags from his mother. "We close in ten. Can you pop these in the bin love?"

Tom regretted not going in through the side entrance. "Sure." He grumbled when the bin wasn't in its usual place at the back of the building. Collection day was tomorrow, so it was down the road, ready for the morning. Tom hauled the bags back the way he came. The road was so dark, he hadn't noticed passing it earlier.

As he neared the big industrial bin, he heard arguing. Tom rolled his eyes and planned to put the rubbish away and leave immediately. Fights off the pub-grounds were not his problem. But unfortunately for him, Torin, Phil, and an angry-looking demon blocked the road.