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But the demon would want more, right?
The king of all the underworld would want the best. So what the hell was that in a sandwich?
An idea formed, and Sky couldn’t stop the cackle that rose in his throat. He began pulling out the applewood chicken breast and brie he’d picked up. He had some green apples and half a loaf of sweet brioche. If he could just find his panini press, he’d be in business.
He figured if it were him and the warden allowed him one last sandwich, he’d want a warm chicken brie panini with apple slices. It was warm, sweet, tart, and melty all in one bite. And if Zal didn’t like it…well, fuck him. It was the best sandwich, in his opinion.
Sky set to work making the best damn sandwich of his life.
When finished, he placed it on one of his prettiest plates along with a few more apple slices and some sea-salt kettle chips. This was the king, after all. He needed to aim a little high-end. He didn’t have a lot to work with, though, since he hadn’t stocked his kitchen intending to feed a freaking demon king.
A tremble ran through his body as he walked the sandwich up to Zalramon and presented it to him. “Your specially made sandwich, Your Majesty.”
The demon hesitated, narrowing his eyes on Sky as if he wasn’t sure he could trust him. What in the world was he supposed to do against a demon? Let alone a demon king. Right now, Sky was just hoping to make it back safely to his bed.
Zalramon shifted his attention to the food piled on the plate. He lifted it to his nose, giving it all a long sniff. Turning the plate to the left and the right, he squinted, inspecting it as though he thought something there was going to jump out at him.
“You need to eat it while the sandwich is still warm,” Sky urged through his clenched teeth.
The demon perked up, his red eyes going wide. “It’s a warm sandwich?”
“Yes, it’s warm. Chicken, brie, and apples.”
Sky wasn’t sure why the temperature made any difference, but Zalramon stopped hesitating. He inhaled the first half in two bites. Did he even taste it? The second half he lingered over, nibbling here and there between bits of apple and chips. It was taking him so long to finish, Sky was considering marching to his kitchen and making himself a sandwich. His legs were tired from standing, and his back was aching.
When the plate was empty of even breadcrumbs, Zalramon handed Sky the plate.
“All right. The bet has been decided,” Zalramon announced, lifting his voice so that it echoed to the farthest corners of the throne room. “I’m a fair demon. I can admit defeat.” He bowed his head slightly to Sky. “That was the best sandwich I’ve ever had. You may continue to use the minions with your reward systems.”
Sky’s heart skipped and his knees wobbled. He clutched the plate to his chest with both arms and sighed.
“However,” Zalramon continued, lowering his voice so only Sky to hear. “I have one more stipulation.”
Shit. Here it comes…
The demon leaned in close to Sky, his hands folded in front of him. “Could you send a sandwich for me with Frank every once in a while? You humans still do those brown paper-bag things, right? Where you put the sandwiches inside with snacks or pudding? I want that.”
The King of the Underworld wanted him to pack a bag lunch for him. This night could not get any stranger.
“Yeah…um…sure. Not a problem,” Sky mumbled, because what else was he supposed to say to the king?
“Excellent!” Zalramon straightened and clapped his hands together. “Then let’s return to your place, and you can make more sandwiches.”
Chapter2
Nolan Banks
Frank answered Sky’s front door.
For a moment, Nolan stood there, speechless, his mind trying to comprehend the black fuzzy creature with the long, spindly arms and legs. The first thought that pried itself loose was,Should Frank be out running around during the day?He couldn’t remember any time when Sky had summoned one of the underworld minions during daylight hours.
Frank must have tired of waiting for him. The tiny figure chittered irritably at him and waved his hand, beckoning him inside the house.
Not wanting to piss Frank off, Nolan stepped across the threshold, allowing Frank to close the door behind him. The minion hurried into the house, leaving Nolan behind. He followed, but he stumbled to a stop at the sight of at least half a dozen minions in Sky’s living room dusting, vacuuming, and fluffing throw pillows.
Did Sky use them as a sort of maid service?
That wasn’t a bad deal, except for the sheer number of sandwiches he’d have to make.
