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Sky didn’t get a chance to finish his request. Zalramon interrupted him with a snap of his fingers. “Fetch the necromancer’s kitchen!”
In the blink of an eye, several of the misty black minions that filled the hall disappeared. This…this felt terrible. They wouldn’t dare…
But they did.
Only ten seconds passed before Sky’s entire kitchen appeared in the middle of the hall, complete with his table and chairs next to the window looking out…well, it had looked out on his backyard, but now it was facing the rest of the king’s throne room and his subjects.
And, of course, there was still the mess of dirty dishes in the sink. Because why not? Not only bring his entire kitchen to the underworld but also show off that he hadn’t been keeping up with his cleaning.
Whatever. He wasn’t planning on getting any real sleep tonight.
Sky turned to Zalramon and offered what he hoped was a genuine smile. “What would Your Majesty like to eat?”
The demon shrugged. “Your best sandwich.”
A twitch started in the corner of Sky’s eye, but he kept his mouth shut as he walked over to his kitchen and jerked open the fridge. Although he was being watched by a “live” studio audience, standing in his own space helped to unwind some of the tension in his shoulders and erase the knot that had formed between his eyebrows.
He stared at the contents of his fridge without seeing them. What the hell would a demon like to eat? So far, he’d made sandwiches for minions, and they were happy with any kind of meat slapped between two pieces of bread. Toss in a pickle spear and some chips, and you’d think he’d served a rack of lamb.
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.
