Demon Moon

jacket and three layers, even during the summer.” He regarded her closely. “If you don’t mind my asking, how is it that you don’t have your degree? Your nani seems as if she’d push you, just as my parents did.”
    “Oh.” She glanced down at her hands, then at the window. It was difficult to see much outside; their reflections hid the darkness beyond. Movement near her feet on the opposite side of the glass caught her eye: Sir Pup. She smiled down at him. “She did, I just…I just kind of didn’t follow through. I have my bachelor’s, but…” She lifted her shoulder. “Not the same as a master’s or doctorate.”
    “What was it in?”
    His tone had changed from simple curiosity to something more; this was not just about her personality, discovering if they would get along—this was the interview.
    “Premed. I went to Berkeley when I was fifteen, then to Stanford after getting the bachelor’s. I was in my second year in the medical program when—” When a demon had used Savi’s stupid mistake with the IDs to threaten Nani’s status. “—when I transferred to SF State so I could help at Auntie’s—Nani’s restaurant—and I switched to electrical engineering. Then I got frustrated with that, so I went to mechanical. Then into a liberal arts program, because I hadn’t done that before. History and literature, but the papers drove me nuts. Same with physics—I like the reading and the research, and the theory, but there wasn’t a future in it for me. I don’t have any ambition to publish or teach. And getting stuck for years in one line of theory—or one project—while doing research and development didn’t appeal, either.”
    Manu’s eyebrows drew together, his fingers clenching on the cup.
    Stop, Savi .
    She couldn’t. “Then to programming and information systems, which was rather redundant by that point. I thought about going back to medical school, but my credits had expired and I didn’t want to redo everything I already knew. And I considered CalTech, but I didn’t want to move away from Nani. So I went into graphic design, but I wasn’t very good at it. So I dropped out of that program, too. And then finally dropped school altogether, and worked on a few other projects.”
    He leaned back in his chair a little. “What are you doing now?”
    She swallowed. “I just started a new job. Updating a law enforcement personnel database. It’s mostly data entry.”
    Biting her lip, she watched his reaction. Confusion, withdrawal. She should have lied.
    His gaze dropped to his cup before he met hers again. “I looked up your name after you contacted me. Online.”
    She tried to smile. “I did you, too.”
    He nodded, pressed his lips together. “Are you the same Savitri Murray that developed the DemonSlayer game? Your name is on the credits for the card game, but I thought it must be someone else until you mentioned Auntie’s, and your projects…I just put it together with that stuff on the news from last year.” His brow furrowed. “Do you actually believe in all that?”
    All that . Her smile widened. She was probably blinding him with it. “Vampires and demons and guardian angels?”
    His expression lightened, as if the words, when spoken aloud, declared their own absurdity. “Yeah. Sorry.”
    Her knuckles were white with tension. Lilith’s voice suddenly echoed in her head: Can you be happy lying?
    But marriage wasn’t about that. Not just that. And it didn’t matter; she wasn’t going to be happy either way. She should lie. Concealing the truth wouldn’t hurt him. She should—
    “Yes,” she blurted. Stop, Savi . But she didn’t. “I do.”
    The right words, but the wrong time to say them.
    And he was so perfect, so nice ; he steered the conversation back to innocuous topics, the kind they’d started with—though he likely thought her insane at best, and an idiot at worst. Not much different from what she’d called herself many times since Caelum.
    Since Colin.
    It was ten minutes before Manu paused, and said earnestly, “Savi, we get along well, so I really enjoyed meeting you. But for marriage…” He took a deep breath, studied her with an apologetic curve to his mouth. “I just don’t think we’d suit.”
    Not unexpected, yet it was still difficult to hear. She gave a short, soundless laugh, dipping her head in acknowledgment. “No,” she agreed. She rubbed the back of her neck, glanced up at him. “We probably wouldn’t.”
    “But it