The silence was kind of awkward. I moved my gaze to the male demon. “And who is our wardrobe-challenged friend here?” I asked.
The demon was short. Like, short-short. He appeared to be a full-grown male, but he probably fell just shy of five feet. His skin was red but it was a much lighter shade than Kivra’s, almost to the point of being pink. He was stocky but not quite muscular. He was also glaring at both of us with his lips pulled back slightly to bare the edges of his sharp teeth. I got the feeling that he liked us even less than Winston did.
“The name’s Dramien,” he snarled.
I was a little intimidated. But as threatening as he was being, it couldn’t be avoided that he was short, and that made some of his snarling seem more comical than menacing.
“Dramien’s Winston’s aide,” Gus offered.
The demon appeared to take offense to that comment and took a sharp step forward, but Winston cut him off with a wave. “Forget it, Dramien,” he advised. “Let’s just get this intro over with so he can leave us alone for a while.” He cast a weary gaze in my direction. “Okay, sir, what would you like to know?”
“How this works, for starters,” I said. “Who makes the decisions, how are they made, and how do you make sure they’re fair?”
Dramien chuckled and shook his head with contempt. “Fair?” he echoed under his breath, “This is Hell, for fuck’s sake.”