The bed shook and Darm's eyes flew open. Sleg was floating right over him. His mouth opened to yell, but its hand slapped down hard, mashing his lips into his teeth.

"Get under the bed and don't come out until I say so, no matter what happens." Its whisper was harsh, urgent.

It rose high enough to let him slide off the bed sideways. "What's -"

"Quiet - hurry!" it hissed.

Darm dropped to the floor and squeezed himself between the supports. Once he was past those, he had room to roll over. He saw Sleg's feet come down and walk away. There was a little noise, and they came back with sandals on them. Then they disappeared under black cloth - a robe.

Pounding started on the door and the demon called out, but Darm wasn't sure what language it spoke. There was a squeak then the sound of heavy footsteps. He could see boots - at least four pairs of them, black, scuffed, green pants stuffed into the tops where the laces stopped. One deep, male voice was doing most of the talking, with occasional words coming from Sleg. Italian?

He had the urge to be invisible. Silent, he turned his back, slipping as close to the wall as he could get. He ducked his head down and pulled his feet up to hide them. A hard poke in the back froze him. Another, then another, the last one he was sure would bruise ... Boots clattered again, moving away. Hinges squealed, a solid slam, then nothing for a long time.

His eyes opened - had he dozed off? Everything was silent. Wasn't Sleg ever going to come back? His muscles were cramping bad and he risked rolling over. He couldn't see any feet, but there was a broom lying on the floor. Was that what hit his back? Someone checking under the bed? He shivered - how could someone look and not see him? Those men hadn't taken it away? What on earth would he do here without it?

Should he stay put? His bladder was full and he was dry as dust. No. It said not until he was told to. He wasn't sure of much, but he didn't doubt that Sleg meant what it said.

The threat of wetting himself - he had to go! The confined space wasn't as easy to get out of as it was to get in. He forced his way through the wooden legs then limped for the can as fast as he could. When he came back out, a stranger was waiting for him.

"I told you to stay hidden! You could be looking at a policer right now. Then what would you do?"

He leaned back against the wall, dizzy. The guy talking to him didn't look anything like Sleg, but he knew it was Sleg just the same. It didn't make any sense - he shrugged. What did? "I'm sorry. I had to go to the bathroom so bad - why do you look like that?" He couldn't help but stare at the pale skin, blue eyes, thinning blonde hair, cut straight, a little below the ears. A patchy, reddish beard, braided tight, was tucked into the collar of the long, black robe it wore. He. Not it. He.

"First, you listen - and listen well. You have to stay inside. In a few days, we'll leave. By night."

The man looked as if he'd walked out of a monastery. Where were they going? The idea of being cooped up didn't thrill him. Then again, being dragged off the by the policers - Darm decided to keep quiet, hoping the daemon would tell him more.

He watched, fascinated, as Sleg's strange new form pulled out stuff for salad, along with some bread. Soon there was a meal and two glasses of water set out. He drank one, then refilled it before he sat down.

The food was gone in no time. He'd been absolutely famished! Sleg still hadn't spoken. Darm finally got up the nerve to ask, "What's wrong?"

"There are small villages scattered through the mountain valleys - and authorities. People here are very poor and extremely independent. They're also superstitious, suspicious. I'm an outsider. If there's any trouble, they're at my door first. I move around quite a bit to avoid complications.

"Maybe someone saw you flying and made a fuss. It doesn't matter now. It's near the time I usually leave, but it wouldn't do to take off right after the policers have visited. Stay in, and if I tell you to hide, do it. I have to maintain this appearance from time to time. It's not my preference, but there are obligations - duties I'm bound to fulfill."

Saw him flying? Darm had no idea - not now. How the blazes did Sleg change the way he looked? He needed to find out more. Carefully. "Where do demons live? Naturally, I mean. Where do you come from?"

"Demons?" His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. " 'd, a, e, m, o, n, s'. Remember that. I'm a nasaru - a guardian. A protector in service of the Apkallu, the Seven Sages. We're known as daemons too. And we come from Earth."

"Where on Earth?"

Sleg got up and pulled tea fixings off the shelf. "No particular place. But long ago, we were driven underground. Well, not all of us. It's said some were sent off the planet. And some - oh, it's a long story. Eventually, conditions improved on the surface but humans and other spirits had spread far and wide. It was nearly impossible to keep the peace. Most of us returned to the warrens. A few managed to survive on land - more long stories, all butchered by time and retelling.

"I'm fortunate. I can alter my appearance, live among the humans. Lunam, the nasaru who was here yesterday, can't. He has no way to connect, to teach them, or help them -."

"He?" The monkish man's lips twisted into a - Darm couldn't call it a smile. Threatening. Nothing funny about it. He didn't like the disguise. He could feel Sleg, but he looked evil ... "I guess I should've asked. You call your friend, he. Male - and I could see that he is. With your size and muscles, you look male to me, but I ... I mean, not the way you look now. Uh ..." He didn't want to make him mad. He really didn't. It was so confusing ... "I swear sometimes you're a woman - I mean, female. Am I nuts?"

"Lunam prefers to show male characteristics. It's a choice. I don't bother much with it, but I can be male or female as I please." He flashed that creepy grin again. "Or as you please. But we can talk about it later. I meant to ask - you said the apocalypse was coming, that it hadn't already happened. What did you mean?"

The tea was ready and a mug was put in front of him. He didn't remember. What would he have said that for? What was left of his curiosity took a nosedive. But the daemon wanted to know and the way he looked now, looked pretty serious.

Darm stared at the steam rising from the cup. Fake it. "Everyone calls the Third World War the apocalypse except for the World Committee propagandists. They lie about so much, but ... that one thing, I think, is true. That the war wasn't what most people say. I'm sorry, there isn't any proof. I had a dream a long time ago - that the real apocalypse hasn't happened yet. I don't remember bringing it up. I don't even know why I would."

Sleg folded his arms and leaned back, his thin, blonde eyebrows drawn down. "Maybe the reasons for your dream will come to you later. But there are more pressing things."

More pressing than the end of the world? Darm kept his eyes on the table. He didn't want to know ...