Having redirected the professor's attention toward Buer, Agustín said his goodbyes and apologized, hurrying out of the halls and running to the bus stop. He managed to catch one of the last cazadoras* heading to Santísima Trinidad. He sat on the right side, a few seats from the back row.

  He felt he finally had a moment to breathe, both from Buer and from life itself, but the journey grew overwhelming as his thoughts drifted back to Dagoberto. He understood his friend's reaction wasn't accidental; it had been brewing for a while. Dago already suspected that Agustín hid more than just feelings of friendship. Agustín had tried to broach the subject a few times, and though Dago never shut him down harshly, he never allowed the conversation to linger before abruptly changing the subject. It was obvious Dagoberto didn't want to lose the friendship they’d had since high school; he, Agustín, and Douglas had been inseparable. Perhaps what hurt Agustín most was that even when his invitations carried no ulterior motives, Dagoberto no longer interpreted them that way.

  The only person who knew was Marley, to whom he had confessed during a birthday party at Mayté’s apartment. She had done what she could to comfort him without drawing too much attention, but what else was there? He couldn't tell his parents, and they were the only friends he had besides the son of the print shop owner, with whom he played soccer on weekends.

  He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the seams of his backpack. They were cold, and his pulse was slightly unsteady. He pressed his index finger to his tear duct to stop a tear from forming. He took a sharp breath and cleared his throat. Halfway through the trip, Buer leaned forward from the seat behind him.

  "I believe a question remains unresolved. Did it not?"

  "What? Why didn't you stay with the professor?"

  "I did. I finished the piece I was playing when we met. He liked it very much, though I had to tell him I was an exchange student."

  "Good for you. And no, there are no pending questions."

  "It’s just that the original answer did not convince me."

  "And now I have to convince you?"

  "Well, I’m not saying it’s an obligation, but it would be easier for me to help you if I knew more about you."

  "Well, I don't. I don't want to talk."

  Agustín got off at the last stop, near the Santísima Trinidad church, about six blocks from his house. Buer followed him with a slow pace, contrasting with Agustín, who walked faster and faster, trying to lose the demon.

  He thought he had lost him after three blocks. The streetlights were dim at that hour; the sky turned a bruised red after eight o'clock when the weather brought mist with it. Agustín stopped under a lamppost to put on his coat.

  "Did you grow up here in Santísima Trinidad?" Buer asked, stepping into the pool of light.

  "For Christ's sake..."

  "This wouldn't be so difficult if we gave ourselves the chance to get to know one another, don't you think?"

  "Why do you want to know about me? The deal was for a wish, not for you to be my psychologist."

  "Yes, I understand that. But I also understand that to find a genuine desire, one must consider needs dictated only by the subconscious."

  "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since you first appeared! How am I supposed to make a decision already?"

  "Well, technically, we first met in Hone Creek. Besides, many people choose to integrate their request into the initial text of the pact to avoid these inconveniences. You know... getting straight to the point."

  Agustín continued walking toward his house, leaving Buer behind. He entered through the funeral home's reception and greeted his father, who was lowering the metal shutters. His mother met him in the living room and offered him a seat at the table for dinner, asking how his exam had gone.

  After dinner, he locked himself in his room, changed into more comfortable clothes, and sat reading until he heard a knock at the door. He opened it, but no one was there. Turning back to see his reflection in the mirror, he saw Buer standing behind him, smiling.

  "Ready for sleep?"

  "No. I was reading. Now what do you want?"

  "What were you reading?"

  "The Catcher in the Rye. What do you want!?"

  "Ah, an interesting choice. I was wondering if we could go for a walk or talk in a more solitary place."

  Agustín sighed deeply, half-exhausted, and agreed. He grabbed a jacket, tossed the book onto the bed, and put his shoes back on. When he reached for his keys, Buer stopped him, taking his hand and making him appear instantly on the outskirts of the district, atop the railway bridge. Agustín jumped as soon as he looked down into the void through the support beams, clinging to Buer; he recoiled immediately, instead gripping one of the columns of the bridge's lateral framework.

  "The view is quite beautiful from here, isn't it?"

  "Are you crazy? It’s a hundred-meter drop below this bridge!"

  "Yes, but I won't let you fall."

  "How could I be sure of that?"

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  "I suppose sometimes one just has to trust, right? Besides, clinging to the edge columns is even more dangerous."

  Buer extended his arms for Agustín to let go. Agustín, though hesitant, finally leaned on the demon to release the column and walk to the center of the bridge.

  "Can we talk now?"

  "Fine, whatever. Why are you so interested in why I’m feeling down?"

  "It’s not that I want to know why—because I already know—I just want you to tell me about the situation. Your thoughts on it, all of that."

  "The thing with Dagoberto? It’s nothing; I’ll get over it. I just wish I hadn't ruined everything. He’s been like this with me since before the trip because I made a move... and well, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I hadn't told him about... that. That’s why he’s being so evasive. Happy?"

  "The contract mentioned skepticism. Are you an atheist by your own conviction, or because others led you to that conclusion?"

  "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Everything. Your family doesn't know either, and you don't have to explain why to me."

  "They’re good people, but they wouldn't understand, and I don't want them to throw me out. You know exactly what people like them think of people like me."

  "Who better than your humble servant to speak of sins and unjust laws? Even medicine was a matter of debate not long ago."

  Agustín’s eyes grew glassy. He lowered his head so Buer wouldn't see.

  "But it’s not just that. I don't want to be left without friends. I can't spend my life risking everything for a positive response from someone... and even if someone accepted me as I am, that wouldn't guarantee things would work or that I wouldn't have to keep searching. I feel alone, and I feel ridiculous complaining about it like it’s a real problem."

  "But it is. It is a valid problem. Humans are social beings; it is natural to seek a remedy for loneliness."

  "The only person I trusted enough to tell was Marley. But even she told me it was dangerous ground, not something you could share with everyone. I don't think Mayté knows."

  "Oh, she certainly knows."

  "What? Marley told her?"

  "Of course she did. I don't need to be a demon to know that, nor to know that Marley isn't upset—she just doesn't want to draw attention to herself and Mayté. They are a couple in secret."

  Agustín tilted his head. Buer smiled, held his face, and wiped away his tears. The young man stepped back again.

  "They aren't going anywhere. Perhaps Dagoberto didn't expect it, but Mayté and Marley are a silent support, for now."

  "I don't know... they wouldn't put their necks on the line for me. I haven't even known them that long. Besides, none of the three knows that... you..."

  "It’s better we keep that as a secret." Buer shrugged.

  "What good does it do you to know all this about me? My family, Dagoberto..."

  "Nothing specific. But sometimes, one needs a confidant, don't you think?"

  "Yeah..." Agustín looked away, distracted by the landscape. "I don't think there are any wishes that could fix these things, are there?"

  "It depends on how necessary it becomes to you. I have my principles, and forced love never yields a pleasant result."

  "I wouldn't do that to Dago anyway. Never." Agustín sighed, rubbing his eyes. "What do you offer? What do people ask of you?"

  "All sorts of things. Most of my students only sought knowledge in my specialties. I’ve had countless pupils—those are pacts that don't take long—from Achilles to university students like yourself, masters of philosophy and natural sciences."

  "It’s a nice offer, but I don't know if it’s what I want."

  "There is no rush."

  A strong breeze made Agustín stumble, reaching out to steady himself against Buer again.

  "Can we go somewhere else, please? On solid ground if possible. This bridge is giving me vertigo."

  "Of course."

  Buer took him by the hand, leading Agustín to the other side of the bridge and vanishing with him into the undergrowth. Beyond the trees and the tall grass, the young man began to discern a passage of light that looked like a miniature sunrise. He had to look down for a moment because the tiny sun dazzled him; it was then that he noticed he was no longer stepping on grass, but on decorative tiles.

  They had arrived at what appeared to be a Greco-Roman-style temple, surrounded by hanging ornamental plants that almost seemed part of the structure. Light filtered through the leaves and the marble columns.

  "Is this where you live?" Agustín asked, letting go of Buer’s hand and admiring the construction.

  "Let’s say so. I’m not here all the time, and it doesn't always look the same, but yes, it is a home of sorts."

  "I see... and this temple… Did someone build it for you? Your servants, the demons?"

  "Yes, that is one way to see it."

  "There must be many of them, right?"

  "Countless."

  "How do these things work?" the young man asked, his voice wavering. "How did you get that title? I already said it, but you sound like someone of very high rank to be complaining that people don't seek your help as a 'first choice'. "

  "Well, they don't. The infernal hierarchy is formed by three principal figures: Lucifer, the Emperor; Beelzebub, the Prince; and Astaroth, the Duke. Beneath those three are the five generals, among them my superior, Agaliareth, the very one who ordained me President. My abilities go far beyond natural medicine and social sciences, though those are my specialties. Usually, whoever makes the initial pact seeks out the demon who best suits their needs."

  They had reached the center of the temple. Both walked in a circle around the impluvium, eyes locked on each other. Rays of light shifted to announce sunrises, sunsets, and times when the sun stood still, the colors transforming without explanation.

  "I have fulfilled countless contracts throughout my existence. I have forged scholars; men of incalculable wealth have knelt before me. I can paint impossible realities. I have been light, I have been shadow, a calm sea, and a starry sky."

  "You are very ancient. Much more than I imagined."

  "It is true. I am."

  "If I’m understanding all this correctly... then you were an angel?"

  "I was."

  "Why aren't you anymore?"

  Agustín continued to observe Buer closely—the image of a man who looked like a beast lurking amidst the flora.

  "Why do you need to know?"

  "I thought you wanted us to know each other."

  Buer stopped and nodded, a slight smile touching his lips.

  " You are right, I apologize. It is only fair if I also share something of my life. It was a mixture of events; joining the rebellion was perhaps the most obvious."

  "That seems obvious, yes, but... what was it that made God—or whatever you call Him—so angry?"

  "Well, He despises many things. But what He despises most is when one touches His most precious creation."

  That last sentence made Agustín’s breath catch in his throat, now standing face-to-face with Buer. He felt an irregular heartbeat and stepped back, only to reappear in his house again, standing in the living room's total darkness. He couldn't stop the shiver that raced down his spine. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked uneasily to his room, where he locked the door carefully so as not to make a sound.