Free Evil Spark by Al K. Line

apparently. Intus once told me it's great fun, but to me it sounds like hell. I imagine whiling away a few centuries on such things doesn't mean the same to them as they are immortal. Anything to pass the time, I guess.
    Luckily, a few minutes later Dancer arrived, looking weird. He seemed to embody efficiency. He was in control. I'd never seen that side of him before. He didn't look quite as slappable, which was disconcerting. I'd always wanted to slap him when I saw him up until that point.
    "How's the finger?" I asked as he slid onto the backseat.
    He waggled his pinkie in front of me. It was all there, if a little raw still. "Fully grown, which is something," he said, the familiar scowl I'd come to hate back.
    "Good. And sorry." He looked at me odd. "What?"
    "Nothing."
    I'd blasted him the previous week, just a bit of playful magic between non-friends, and he hadn't been too happy about it.
    I pulled out, and tried to block Intus' monologue about sexual equality and the rights of imps to wear leather dungarees—like every single one of them has since the beginning of their immortal lives—and how that shouldn't be used to judge them.
    Checking on my passenger, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Dancer had his fingers in his ears. I didn't blame him.

 
     
     
     
    Don't Say It!
    "...waving it around and saying, look, I'm a male imp. We're beyond that. We've grown as imps," Intus continued to lecture, wagging a finger at first one person, then another, then the world in general. "If my husband caught you..." Intus slapped a hand over her permanently wide and mischievous mouth in shock.
    "Haha. Gotcha." Sorry I didn't mention this earlier, dramatic effect and all.
    Intus panicked. "What? No, wait! Slip of the forked tongue. Just because I said my husband doesn't mean that I'm a female imp. We could be husband and husband. That's sexist that is. That's homophobic. Anyone can get married these days. There are rules about such things. Why, we could have adopted."
    "What, all twenty-six kids? I remember a week ago you popped up and had six in one afternoon."
    "Yeah, well, I explained that. It's because our time is different to yours. I'm a true Hidden, Spark. I live in the Hidden, the proper Hidden. With other imps and we—"
    "But you are a woman, aren't you? A female, anyway."
    "Yes," Intus admitted, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed. Defeated.
    "I think that's sweet," said Kate. "We both thought you were the one, you know, with your bum up in the air last week, going for it on—"
    "Stop, Kate! I don't want to think about that." I'd tried hard to forget the incident and now she'd planted it right back in my mind. Ugh.
    "Whatever," said Intus, waving it away. She wasn't happy, but it was kind of nice to know, finally. I'd been convinced it was a he—it would take some getting used to.
    "Okay, where to now, Mrs. Intus?" I asked with a wicked grin—come on, if you can't wind up an imp when your world is falling apart around you when can you? I needed a distraction, okay?
    "If you say that one more time, I'll—"
    "Haha. Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I won't say it to you ever again. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die." Oh, shit.
    The car emptied of all sound, like it wasn't even a concept. The air froze, time ceased to have meaning, and Intus and I stared at each other in absolute horror. Dancer leaned forward between the seats, staring at me in utter shock, then leaned back quick and put his hands over his eyes. He thought about it for a moment, and then lay down on the back seat and whimpered, "Tell her I'm not here. I don't like them. Their ears. God, those lovely ears. They are too much. It isn't natural. I can't bear it. Is she here yet?"
    "No, not yet," I groaned.
    Kate looked at me, peered at the hiding Dancer, then down at Intus quizzically, taking a moment to feel the change in the atmosphere, in everything.
    "Tell me you didn't just say that, Spark." For the first time in my life, Intus actually looked genuinely