I stopped pacing and looked hard in the mirror. The demon smiled. He had a row of sharp teeth, horns, tattoos, and a tail flicking around. I swallowed, something inside me telling me the reflection was showing reality right now. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt before I peeled it off. It dropped to the ground as I traced the tattoos. I looked back up at the mirror and reached up, touching horns.

“It’s real,” the reflection said…I said. It was me talking, always was.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Puca said. I looked away from the mirror, seeing him standing in my bedroom. "Talking to yourself."

“Go away,” I grumbled.

“No,” he countered. His voice was somber and muted, lifeless compared to usual. Too bad I didn’t have the capacity to deal with whatever was bothering him.

I looked back at the mirror. The dangerous demon was giving a knowing smile. I turned around and looked at Puca. He had a very serious lack of clothing. He had on a buttoned business shirt, dark socks, sock garters, and shoes. That was it. He looked like some nineteen-fifties male pinup.

The neon lights from the city glowed through the large windows, painting him in magentas, purples, and greens.

“You come to me like this?” I asked, moving forward. He stayed propped in my doorway for a moment. He peeked his head down the hall and then slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.

Puca leaned against the wall, watching as I came closer. His gold eyes glowed, holding my gaze as I prowled ever closer.

I stopped right in front of him but didn’t touch him.

“I need to eat,” I said.

“So eat,” he responded. My eyes dragged over him again. Truthfully, I enjoyed how he tried to play our little king as if he were some god amongst the demigods. It was entertaining. What once irritated me, I now found charming and reliable. Puca, ironically, was always Puca.

When we first met up he had a different body. The body didn’t really matter. It was his soul that tempted me.

“I can tell you’re in a shitty mood,” I said.

“I’ve never fucked a demon before,” Puca said, eyes dipping to my naked chest as he ignored my comment.

“Me neither,” I offered. Puca looked a little more chipper from our banter and I felt sort of good about that. “I’m hungry, Puca. You should go,” I said.

“You’re nonsensical,” he accused. His shadow began to crawl up the wall. Horns twisted atop its head, golden eyes glittered in the darkness, and a smile spread over its face.

I took a step back.

Puca wasn’t normal. I knew that. However, I didn’t really know his secrets. Dullahan didn’t discuss other people’s business, being a very private person himself. Therefore I had no warning in regards to Puca before we met up. Not who he was, what he was. The only information I was given was that Dullahan and Puca knew each other before and that Puca’s a devious shit who makes even well laid plans go sideways. However, if we wanted to catch a leprechaun, we needed the devil’s help. Or in this case, one very troublesome Irish trickster.