Mizuras

The angel spreads his huge golden wings that I just singed, and he suddenly looks much more powerful and menacing. Oops. Guess I shouldn't have torched his back.

He draws the spear from his back and levels its golden blade with my face. "Tell me who you are, demon."

"I will if you tell me who you are," I say with a sharp-toothed grin.

The angel sighs irritably and covers the spearhead with a small scabbard. "Fine. I am Mizuras, angel and demonslayer. And you?"

"Ignatius, fire demon."

"Ignatius?!" the angel Mizuras exclaims. The sheath is quickly taken from the spearhead, the blade touching my chest where my heart would be. "You...you're that demon who burned a whole museum looking for some artifact!"

"Um, yeah. That was an accident." I never want to meet the ghosts who painted some of the masterpieces in that museum.

"Accident?" Mizuras exclaims. "Since when did fire demons burn stuff by accident? You sold your soul to the Demon King for power, so you wouldn't accidentally incinerate a French museum filled with priceless masterpieces, would you?"

Him reminding me of how I sold my soul to the Demon King maddens me instantly, and I feel my muscles tense, my claws unsheathe, my fangs grow. I quickly change into the form of a teenage boy to try and keep my inner fiend locked away.

"I'm not a bad demon," I manage to say, struggling to keep my horns from sprouting, even in human form.

Mizuras pretty much chokes on his throat. "What?! A good demon? There is no such thing as a good demon."

"I didn't say I was good," I retort. "I said that I wasn't a bad demon."

The angel shrugs his shoulders. "Ain't that the same thing?"

"Not really."

"Oh well. I'm not slaying you today, but I'll be keeping a close eye on you, demon." And he speads his singed wings and soars away.

The End

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