“Thanks for letting me drive, Magpie,” said Kiyo as she finished parallel parking. “I haven’t had a chance to do that in forever.”

“N-no problem, my dear,” I said, my knuckles white from my death grip on my arm rest. “Are you perhaps a bit rusty?”

Kiyo cocked her head at me. “What do you mean?”

“Did I hallucinate you cutting in front of that truck? I might have fainted after you went across three lanes of traffic!” I stepped out and walked around the front of the car. I’d read in human books that it was customary to open the door for one’s date.

Kiyo must not have read those books, since she was waiting for me on the sidewalk. “I had the right of way,” she replied. “What are you complaining about? I saved us, like, ten minutes.”

And took a year off my life, I didn’t say. I didn’t want to spoil things. It was already going to be hard enough to have my rendezvous with Dante without making her suspicious. I had exchanged a few text messages with him, but he hadn’t answered my calls. I didn’t even know what he looked like. I could only hope he kept the appointment.

I slung my backpack full of my diaries over my shoulder. I had written them in High Demonic up until Maggie had revealed she knew me to be a false Soren. Afterwards I had gotten a new diary and switched to a sort of shorthand, an especially prudent maneuver with as much time as Kiyo had stayed in my room. She was a security risk, not that I had ever suspected she would snoop underneath my mattress. I’d even secured a dirty magazine that I kept closer to the edge of the mattress to give Kiyo something else to complain about if she ever went poking around.

“You’re doing that thing again,” said my favorite security risk.

“Doing what, Angel?”

“You’re pissed, but you aren’t saying anything,” she said, her mouth curled downward. “I said you could tell me anything.”

“It doesn’t seem worth having a fight on our special night,” I said, putting my intel out of my mind.

“Well now we’re having a fight about fighting,” she countered. “C’mon, you can tell me anything.”

“Very well. You drive like a madwoman.”

“No, I drive like someone who knows what she’s doing,” she replied, smirking smugly. “Dad taught me, and then Mom taught me because she hates the way Dad drives. It evened me out.”

“Your father’s wilder than you? How is that even possible?”

“He’s got me beat on wrecks, three to nil. That’s just math.”

“And they let him pilot warships?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s the captain, not a helmsman.”

“They probably promoted him when they saw him drive,” I said.

Kiyo tried to look offended. I say tried to, because she couldn’t quite suppress her giggling. “I missed this. It feels like we haven’t been able to really talk in ages. You’ve been really quiet lately. I need you around more, Magpie. You’re my cutiemuffin.”

“Duty has kept us apart, regretfully,” I replied. “But, why dwell on what we cannot change? Shall we, my dear?” I held up my arm, and she hooked hers in mine. She always did like it when I was “fancy.” Frankly, I’d had that drilled into me back home because devil girls might light your hair on fire if you didn’t behave respectfully enough.

The dim street that Dante had chosen for our meeting was an oasis in a sea of squalor. Cities all over Japan had taken waves of refugees fleeing from the Grim Horde. The Japanese, in my experience, like foreign ideas and inventions, but prefer to keep foreigners themselves in their proper place. That place had always been outside of Japan, but the realities of the war against the Horde had forced their hand. Japan isn’t an especially spacious land, but they still had to take their share of refugees. The survivors had been shuffled into little cities within cities, usually in clusters of hastily built, concrete apartment buildings. The Little Frances abutted the Little Germanies, but all that distinguished them were the words on the signs and a few national flags. The dingy apartments were considered suitable for the temporary guests, with the word ‘temporary’ becoming more laughable by the year. Twenty years on, they were beginning to break down.

This presented the city and prefecture governments with a conundrum. They didn’t have the resources to upgrade all of the buildings at once, and they couldn’t be seen to favor Little Rwanda over Little Brazil or Little Canada without causing a scandal. So, they resorted to a classic strategy of governments with insoluble problems: bread and circuses. Entertainment districts dotted the city, and they were always packed. The apartments of Little Egypt might be drafty, and Little Bosnia might lose power twice a week, but there were free shows at the theater and subsidized food to help them escape. These were popular with the native Japanese too, but they had to pay full price. The heavy price of citizenship, I suppose, and I’d heard grumbling about it.

I don’t report this to be reproachful. We used the same tricks to keep the orcs and goblins in line back home, though we weren’t foolish enough to let them in for free. It simply amuses me how alike devils and human politicians can be.

Whoever had designed this entertainment district had packed it with every diversion. We passed three arcades, a batting cage, and three hole-in-the-wall restaurants before we had gone a block, and those were just at ground level. I had wondered why this Dante had wanted to meet in such a public place, but as we strode down the avenue, it all clicked. People from a hundred lands milled about, filling the air with more languages than I had known existed. Everything was well lit, but nobody paid any mind to anyone else. Whatever Dante looked like, he wouldn’t stand out.

Kiyo clutched me tighter as we waited for a streetlight to change. “Are you doing alright, Angel?”

“Hate crowds,” she muttered. “I feel like everyone’s staring at me.”

“They should be,” I said. “You went all out. I was wondering what you were practicing that makeup for, you little minx.”

“I’m not worried about the makeup.” She adjusted the scoop neck of her black top higher, which only served to remind me that she wasn’t as flat-chested as she feared. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I got this. I feel like I’m gonna fall out.”

I smirked suggestively. “Are you?”

She winked out of sight. “Don’t sound so excited, you pervert,” she said.

“You went to all that trouble to doll yourself up; let them look.”

After a moment, her head rested on my shoulder and she reappeared. “So you really like it?”

I cupped my hand around her ear. “I love how it looks, but I think you’ll look even lovelier without it. You were right, by the way; I looked it up, and love hotels are delightful.”

Her face went bright red. “You’re still embarrassing.”

“And you love every moment.”

“Most moments,” she said. “So, what’s Dante like?”

“Can’t say I’ve met the man,” I said. “He’s family of a friend of the family. Poor Harriet can’t get out much, and she had some business to attend to up in Japan, so Dante came up here to take care of it for her.”

“Oh, yeah, having your son get bit by a snake is rough,” she said. Her tone made me think she was trying to make me slip up on my lie.

“It’s rougher on the son,” I replied. “He’s making a full recovery, by the way.”

“I dunno about that,” she said. “It sucks to be the person hurting, but can you imagine watching somebody you love in that much pain?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

I put idle thoughts aside. We reached what I thought to be the address, and I studied the directory at the main door. I checked my notepad where I had written the name of the restaurant, trying to will myself to understand the characters.

With an annoyed sigh, I gave up. “Kiyo, I can’t make it out. Do these signs match?”

She squinted before nodding. “That’s good hiragana. Do you know what they mean yet?”

“Can’t say that I do,” I said. “I have been watching those videos you sent me when I have time, but it’s still Greek to me.”

She looked at me blankly. “I sent you Japanese tutorial videos.”

“My dear, it’s a say-”

She burst out laughing. “Just playing, Magpie. You’re so cute when you’re confused.”

“As though you don’t always think I’m cute.”

She hugged my arm a little more urgently. “I wish we were together more. I’d practice with you.”

“Let’s put a lid on that talk and enjoy ourselves,” I said. “I reserved the third room. You may have to be my translator.” The translator fabricata in my ear would let me understand the staff, but it wouldn’t do a thing for conversation going the other way.

It turned out I needn’t have worried. The waiter who greeted us spoke with a drawl I didn’t recognize, but it was definitely English. “Oh, yer the high roller who got the private room. Right this way, sir.”

“They’re trying too hard,” whispered Kiyo.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Every inch of this place is covered in swords, fans and old art prints! It’s all random. It feels like somebody went to Japan once, got a bunch of junk and stuck it to the walls without thinking.”

“It’s your tax dollars at work,” I said.

“Well, I want a refund!”

“What was that, darlin’?” asked the waiter.

Kiyo turned red. “N-nothing, sir.” She turned to face me and lowered her voice just loud enough for me to hear. “About that. Our tax dollars pay for the permanent residents, not me! Magpie, can we afford this?”

“Dante was clear this was on his yen.” He hadn’t responded to most of my text messages, but he had promised that much. I shot her a conspiratorial smirk. “Between you and me, I might have chosen the most expensive restaurant on the strip when he mentioned that.”

“Is he good for it?”

“Harriet has means,” I replied.

“Good, ‘cause whatever they’re frying here smells awesome, and I want twenty.”

“You were so critical before.”

“They don’t get décor, but they get tempura.”

Our waiter slid open a wall panel, revealing a small table that came up to my knee, ringed by cushions. My eyes were drawn to a painting of Mt. Fuji that took up the entire back wall. It had that same earnest but overdone feeling as the rest of the restaurant.

In fact, I almost missed the man of the hour, until he rose to his feet. He was twice my age and, judging by his leathery skin, he had spent almost all of it in the sun. The lightest parts of him were the scars that crossed his exposed arms. He was well dressed, with a short-sleeved, button up shirt, paired with a vest and pants that matched a jacket hanging in the corner.

“Well, if it ain’t my granny’s godson! It’s a pleasure, a pleasure!” He swept over and took me in a hug that made my back creak. He must have spent all that time outdoors developing his muscles. He broke off and took me by the shoulders. “Well, let me have a look at ya. You’re taller’n I expected, Soren.”

“And you’re… well, I must admit I had no expectations.” He was awfully jovial for a demonkin. The ones I had met in England were a dour bunch. I suppose Dante here hadn’t sold out his homeland yet; he had less on his conscience.

He cocked his mouth in a jaunty grin. “Good onya, mate. Not a bad way to live. You can’t get let down that way.” He turned his eyes on Kiyo. “Got yerself a local girl, eh? She’s a beaut. Granny Hattie’ll be glad to hear that.”

Kiyo took a step back. “Thanks?”

“You need to relax, Sheila.” Dante chuckled, and for the first time I smelled the alcohol on his breath. Unless that was the scent of his magic, I could guess where his good mood came from.

“Come here, Dante!” I grabbed him in my own bear hug. “What is all this about?” I whispered into his ear. “You’re three sheets to the wind! We have an important job here!”

“What the bosses don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he whispered back. “You’re the one that’s gotta be presentable. I’m just a delivery boy.” He broke my embrace and settled back down on his cushion. He held up a white bottle of sake and shook it invitingly. “Are you two legal? I can get us some more glasses. This local stuff smells like glue, but it kicks like a horse.”

“Uh, do you need more, Mr. Dante?” Kiyo sat down opposite from him, and I joined her.

“Girlie, I’m no two-pot screamer,” he replied. “I could polish off three more of these before I’d feel it.”

“Two pot what? Is that English?” Kiyo asked.

“It is where I come from,” he said. “No more England or America, so Australia’s the standard now. You’d best learn the language, Ms… Smith?”

“Jones,” said Kiyo.

“Yeah, that’s it. So, Soren, Ms. Jones, you gonna join me?”

“Um, probably not a good idea,” said Kiyo. “I gotta drive.”

“More for me’n Soren here.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to put on a bad show for my lady.”

“Fair dinkum,” he said.

“Okay, no way that was English,” said Kiyo.

“So, Dante,” I said, desperately wanting to change the topic to something more productive, “what brings you to Japan?”

“An airplane,” he said, before chuckling at his own joke. “I need to step out for a tick. See a man about a horse. I’ll send Carl your way, order yourselves something nice.”

Without waiting for our leave, he stumbled to his feet and made his way out of the booth.

As soon as the wooden shutter was closed, Kiyo banged her fist on the table. “I don’t like your friend.”

“I can’t say I’m overly fond of him either.”

“I think I’ll try some champagne after all,” she said. “He said he’s paying and I always wanted to try. It seems fancy.”

“It might take some of the edge off,” I replied. Getting a little buzzed didn’t sound awful, but I had to keep my eyes on the prize. I had been told to be presentable, and keeping a civil tongue in my head was part of that.

Dante was a boor, but he was true to his word. A moment later, the waiter arrived. I supposed it to be Carl. Men who bother to learn the help’s names are either magnanimous or trying too hard look it, and I hadn’t gotten a bead on Dante yet.

Our patron was out longer than I would have thought. He returned just as Carl dropped off a plate of appetizers and our drinks.

“Don’t do the crab,” he said with a chuckle. He waved the air in front of him. “Fresh caught my ass!”

Kiyo’s nose crinkled, and she nearly chugged her drink. “Taking the edge off,” she muttered.

I decided it was safer if I did the talking. “Say, did Harriet tell you about the War Game I was in?”

“No, can’t say she did,” Dante replied.

“It was so romantic,” said Kiyo, grabbing onto my arm.

Glad to catch her in a good mood, I began to tell the story of how our grudge match with Yukiko had ended with my throwing myself down the mountain to Kiyo. I left out my crimes against good manners in this retelling, of course. Kiyo didn’t need more reason to be distraught. She seemed to enjoy herself too, popping occasionally to add a small detail.

Just about as I got to my duel with Kowalski and his Buddy in the woods, I realized that I was supporting Kiyo’s whole body, and her breathing had a regular rhythm.

“About damn time,” said Dante as he wiped off his mouth. A few more bottles of sake had joined the first while I spun my yarn, but his drunken humor evaporated in an instant. “I was about to take Carl’s tip back.”

It dawned on me soon enough. “You drugged her.”

“She put up a real fight, I’ll give her that. I thought that bubbly was gonna do her in without the roofie. I thought Asian girls were supposed to be lightweights!”

“My Kiyo is full of surprises.” I didn’t like the tactic; it reminded me of Mother’s end. I couldn’t deny its effectiveness, though.

I cradled her in my arms, thinking how small she felt when she was unconscious. I laid her across the cushions at the far end of the table, and I grabbed my jacket to act as a pillow.

“Zone of Silence.” I made sure to shape the spell so that Kiyo lay well outside its reach.

Dante nodded appreciatively as he gnawed on a fried tentacle that I couldn’t identify. “Good move, Malthus.”