"I'd like two coffees, please, madam," Kal said. "With extra sugar."

"And a Coke for me, please," I said.

"Right. I'll be back in a jiffy. You know, you look just like my nephew Thomas," the bottle-blonde woman told nobody in particular, beaming. "His thoughts are as peculiar as yours."

Once she was out of earshot, I said: "I hope she meant you. It would be rather worrying if I looked like a Thomas. And do you think she can really see our thoughts?"

"She was just putting it on, I reckon," – sigh – "Witches. Terrible show-offs, they are." Kal rolled his eyes in a deprecating manner, then looked at me. "Hey, speaking of thoughts, that reminds me. You know that game we played once? When we went for a drink?"

"Yeah."

Of course I remembered. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I hadn't known what he was – who he was – then. I hadn't known who I was then either, who I was meant to be.

"Well, do you feel up to another round?" Kal said.

"Okay," I said. "But we'll play another version of it. Instead of a question for a question, we'll trade a thought for a thought, about ourselves or the other. It can be true or a lie, and the other has to guess which. How's that sound?"

"Sounds fun. You start, I've got to rack my small brain to come up with something."

"Uh-huh. My first thought is this: you're still murdering demons."

I saw surprise sweep across Kal's face. "Woah, Rae. Blunt, aren't you?"

I swallowed. "Maybe."

I had to know. I hadn't dared ask him before, and it had been niggling at me this whole time.

At that moment the serving witch appeared beside our table and laid down our drinks on it.

Any hope that she hadn't overheard our conversation vanished as she cooed: "Demons? I love demons, especially incubus. Do yourself a favour and summon one, miss." She winked at me. "Best shag of my life. Not too pricey, either."

"I'll bear it in mind," I called after her as she sashayed off. "Thank you."

Kal spluttered on his coffee.

"Wuss," I said, sniggering. "Blushing like a schoolgirl at the mere mention of incubi."

"Well, what can you expect?" His eyes twinkled. "I'm an innocent angel, see."

I snorted. "Not. You haven't told me if my thought is true or not, anyway."

Kal lowered his coffee.

"Your thought," he said in a quiet voice, "is true."

My stomach dropped. I tried to reason with myself that I was being stupid. He wasn't going to turn his whole life around just for me. Besides –

"What about you?" Kal said. "Are you still killing angels?"

I winced. "Yes," I whispered. "Sometimes. Kal – I'm – I'm –"

I wanted to tell him that it was getting harder to do it every time I ran into one. That the last time I'd used Sebastian I'd looked into the angel's eyes and seen Kal's. That I'd whispered, shaking, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

I'd felt filthy afterwards, sick with a guilt I hadn't known before. I wanted to fling away my dagger and never use it on a living creature again, regardless of what they were. Even if they were bad. Even if not killing them made me bad.

But it wasn't so easy. I knew what letting angels leave unscathed would mean, in the eyes of the demon community. I knew what my parents and acquaintances would say if they ever got wind of me befriending Kal -- for lack of a better word, because I knew that what we had went beyond mere friends.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut.

It would mean betrayal.

"It's all right," Kal said, but his face was drawn. "I understand."

There was a stretch of awkward silence. I cursed myself for bringing up such a horrible topic. No, I told myself. I'd run from the truth long enough. I'd look the world in the eye now.

"How does it feel," I whispered, "when you make someone Forgotten?"

I'd wondered that for ages. I remembered being a kid and lying wide awake at night, unable to drop off from terror that an angel would somehow manage to creep into my room and lay its curse on me while I slept. It seemed incredible, simply ceasing to exist from others' memory overnight, and what was more, never having existed, as far as they were concerned. I imagined what it would feel like, walking around like an empty nutshell of a being. 

And then, perhaps even more terrible, forgetting yourself: the need to eat and drink so you'd starve after a couple of days, or your own body, so you'd start to physically attack yourself, convinced your limbs didn't belong to you.

I shoved my mind away from these thoughts with a shudder.

Kal looked uncomfortable. "Rae, I don't know if –"

I had to know. "Tell me."

"Well, it feels – sort of invigorating, to tell you the truth. You feel the demon's energy flowing out into you. It's hard to describe."

"Mm. And you haven't the faintest idea what being made Forgotten feels like, I suppose?" I said, then interrupted myself, wryly. "Well, no, of course you haven't, stupid of me. I guess there aren't that too many demons around – or sane enough – to describe the experience. They all either waste away or lose their marbles, don't they?"

I remembered a cousin of my father's – he hadn't died but he'd gone completely loopy. He used to stand in his garden, stark naked and bellowing he was a spring tulip that needed watering. His wife would lock him up in the attic on family gatherings, her face bright red with shame under her makeup. "Some kind of madman keeps pestering us," she'd say. "I'll have the police on him." The worst thing about it was that she hadn't been lying. She hadn't recognised him as her loving husband.

Not so much as a single person would comment on the yells issuing from the attic as if suffering from sudden deafness. Well, I suppose we were, really. We didn't notice the noise, or we noticed it in a distant sort of way, wondering what it was in the vaguest of manners before it slipped from our minds altogether. It was really the weirdest of feelings. Then we'd all have another bite of roast beef and calmly chatter on about the weather.

The sound of Kal's hesitant voice jerked me back to reality.

"Er, yeah. More or less." Kal looked as though he wanted to scuttle under the table. He paused. "Although – they don't all do, actually, I think. Not all of them."

"What?"

"Ninety-nine percent of Forgotten demons, like you said, either starve, or go mad, assuming a mere ghostlike existence. A half existence. But here's the thing, this minimum percentage of them survive, in full faculty of their mental powers, exactly as they were before they were cursed."

I stared at him. "How can they survive? You're having me on."

"I'm not. It's just that, well, don't take this wrongly, Rae, but not that many demons are decent people like you, you know. You're one of a kind."

What was he on about? 

"Kal, I'm still not following you."

Kal rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "In order to reverse the curse, the demon must have done at least one significantly good deed in his or her past."

"Good deed? Like helping other demons or so on?"

He shook his head. "Not another demon. They must have helped a human – mind you, in a completely disinterested way. Only this" – he made quoting marks in the air with his fingers – " 'selfless act' proves that the demon can't be Forgotten. That they don't deserve to be Forgotten."

I was still stunned. "But then why – how come we don't know about this? How come nobody mentioned this to me before?"

Kal forced a smile. "Like I said, there aren't many demons rushing around helping humans, are they? And I bet that the very few ones that do help someone keep quiet about it, or face being shunned by others."

He was right. Of course he was. For years, I'd strived not to let on that I was different myself, that I wasn't happy with what my parents would have me do. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach – I'd been a coward, all these years.

"Man, these games always turn out to be really merry," Kal declared, in a different voice. "I don't know how we do it."

I laughed, pleased that the tension in the air had dispelled. "Idiot."

"Okay, my turn now. Last thought from me," said Kal. "Are you ready to lose?"

"I'm not going to lose."

"Rae Carrows," he said, looking at me across the table. My heart leaped at the intensity of his gaze. "I think I might be falling in love with you."

I held his gaze, my breath coming in quick short gasps. "Wrong?"

He smiled, shook his head. "I win. That was so very true."