The little bell above the shop door chimed softly as a breeze slipped in from the rainy street outside.

Arthur glanced up from behind the counter, one hand still resting on the open book he'd been reading. His bookshop was quiet as usual, tucked away between older buildings that most people walked past without a second thought. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with books older than some civilizations. The scent of paper, dust, and tea lingered warmly in the air.

A comfortable silence filled the room.

Arthur sighed.

"You know," he said without looking up, turning a page, "most people use doors because they wish to enter a building."

A shadow shifted near the fantasy section.

"Most people aren't us."

Arthur finally lifted his eyes.

There, sprawled lazily across one of the reading couches as if he'd always been there, was Nile.

The demon grinned.

Arthur had no idea how long he'd been sitting there.

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Nile."

"Fine. An hour."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

After several thousand years, some things never changed.

Nile looked much the same as he always had. Sharp smile. Sharp eyes. The kind of face that made humans trust him when they absolutely shouldn't. Arthur found it deeply annoying.

Or at least he was supposed to.

Officially, they were enemies.

An angel and a demon. Representatives of opposite sides in an ancient conflict older than humanity itself.

The arrangement had worked well enough for the first few centuries.

Then they kept running into each other.

Wars came and went.

Empires rose and collapsed.

Languages were born, evolved, and died.

And somehow, through all of it, Arthur and Nile remained.

Not friends.

Certainly not.

That was the story they both maintained.

They merely happened to know exactly how the other took their tea.

And where to find them when things became difficult.

And which historical events they absolutely refused to discuss.

Arthur closed his book.

"What do you want?"

Nile looked offended.

"Wow. Can't I visit my favorite celestial?"

"No."

Arthur couldn't quite stop the faint smile threatening to appear.

Across the centuries they'd developed a routine. Nile would disappear for months or years at a time. Arthur would quietly assume he'd gotten himself into trouble.

Then Nile would stroll into the bookshop acting as though he'd left five minutes earlier.

Neither ever acknowledged missing the other.

That would make things complicated.

Instead, they maintained appearances.

If another angel walked in, Arthur would immediately become cold and professional.

If another demon appeared, Nile would suddenly remember how much he disliked angels.

The performance had become second nature.

After all, Heaven and Hell expected certain things.

Neither side needed to know that their oldest rivalry had become something considerably less hostile over the millennia.

Nile stood and wandered toward the counter, glancing at a stack of newly arrived books.

"Oh, that's new."

"You said that about the printing press."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

The demon leaned casually against the counter.

"So."

"So?"

"I was bored."

"Naturally."

"And your shop has chairs."

"Truly a compelling reason to travel across worlds."

Nile's grin widened.

Arthur hated that grin.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Outside, rain tapped gently against the windows.

Inside, surrounded by books and centuries of familiarity, the angel and the demon settled into the comfortable rhythm they'd perfected over thousands of years.

Enemies, technically.

Friends, perhaps.

Something else entirely, depending on who was asking.

Whatever they were, it was old.

"You really just came for a visit?"