“Thank you, Grann, for worrying about me. I love you.”
Another curse burned between his ears, then, “I love you, too, enbesil.” She ended the call.
“That was less of an explosion than I thought.” Barion was leaning back on what had become his side of the sofa. Jon pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It was a last warning. We have to lay off the trips for the next few weeks or she will be here to drag me back to New Orleans.”
“On your ears?”
“It’s not funny. She’s going to do it, definitely.”
“Surely not all the way?”
Jon gave Barion a look. The demon held up his hands. “Fine. You know her better than me. I tell you what. We have enough material to create most of the levels that we wanted to concentrate on, anyway. If we need further inspiration, we can always watch some of the demon wars. And we have already decided to not do the trip to the dungeon dimension, where my father keeps the evil demons. It’s for the better, because should my father get wind of it, he’d probably drag me around by my ears as well.”
Jon couldn’t help but smile. He liked Barion so much. “Excellent thinking. Why don’t we decide what we want for dinner before we start working?”
“I’m with you. How about tapas from Spain? Great food, many choices, small portions, so we can try a lot.”
“And I’m sold. You get the tapas, and I’ll prepare plates and the computers.”
It was their usual routine, and Jon couldn’t have been happier to have a routine with somebody else, with a friend. Barion bowed.
“Sí. And don’t forget we have a date later.” He winked before he left through the slice in space he had made. Jon closed his eyes.
How could he forget what had become the highlight of each of his days? He couldn’t believe his libido had finally woken up and with such force. It was as if Barion was the spark to the dried-up undergrowth his sexual needs had been since his death and subsequent resurrection. Deciding this was something he had to examine more closely when the source of his newfound drive wasn’t about to come back any minute, Jon started gathering plates and switching on the computers.
* * * *
It had been a long night full of hard work with a pleasurable end they had both highly deserved. Jon was still half asleep when he realized somebody was at his front door, alternately knocking and ringing the bell. With what could only be described as a zombie shuffle, Jon reached it. After some fumbling with the door lock—technically, there was no need for him to take this security measure because anybody attacking a zombie in his sleep deserved what they had coming, not to mention that encroaching on demon territory was the best and quickest way to commit suicide, not the most painless, but surely the most eventful way to leave the earthly realm—he managed to wrestle the door into submission. Sammy was waiting on the other side with two cups of delicious-smelling coffee and a tray of steaming mini apple pies in his hands. Enough of Jon’s brain cells fired up to order his hands to open the door wide, not wanting to risk the goods to vanish again. Sammy stepped inside with a broad smile on his face.
“Good morning, Jon!”
“Good morning, Sammy. It’s nice to see you.” Jon glanced at the watch on the oven in his kitchen. He could just make it out from where he was standing. “It’s already eight o’clock. Aren’t you in the shop today?”
“Oh, I will be. Dre is covering for me because I wanted to see how my favorite tenant is doing.”
“I’m your only tenant.”
“And I couldn’t wish for a better one.”
Jon sighed, knowing there was no winning against Sammy’s kindness. The man ought to wear a license for it. “Let me get plates for the pies. Did Mavis and Maribel make them?”
“Yes. They brought them over and told me to tell you they were made with all their love.”
Remembering what he had learned the other day about majik and food, Jon eyed the pies with some suspicion. Then a thick waft of the perfect aroma—apples, sugar and just the right amount of cinnamon—hit his nose and he forgot all about the potential danger the food might pose. Nothing that delicious could be dangerous, now, could it? They both sat down on the kitchen counter, each with a plate full of pie and their beverage. Sammy had brought Jon’s favorite, hazelnut latte with extra milk foam. It made what Jon knew would be coming easier to put up with.
“Sooo, you and Barion?” Sammy had the decency to not even try for subtlety. He had shown what Barion considered remarkable restraint the last few weeks, only a comment here or there during the book club meetings—which Barion hadn’t attended, and Jon had been woefully unprepared for because working on Demon Wars took up all of his time—and now his friend and landlord had obviously reached the end of his patience.
“Yes, me and Barion. We’re friends.”
Sammy didn’t comment. He simply stared at Jon over the rim of his coffee mug. Jon tried to resist as long as possible but finally gave in when a hint of wetness glazed the soulful look. Sammy was a master not to be trifled with. And Jon had to admit he wanted to talk about him and Barion, just to get some clarity and hear his own thoughts spoken out loud.
“We get along great. We have so much in common and now we’re working on this video game, which is going to be great. I can feel it in my bones, and with him, I don’t feel shy or awkward at all. It’s so nice.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He’s a great guy. I even like touching him, probably because he’s so much hotter than any human could ever be, and when we’re together he’s mostly in his demon form, so there’s no mistaking him for a mortal.”
