“You’re being marked as a demon’s mate. Traditionally, the mate’s mind or spirit, or however you wish to call it, goes to a different place to make the pain more bearable—a smart mechanism, if you ask me, because who would want to spend eternity with the person who gave you the worst pain of your existence while having sex? Humans tend to meet deceased loved ones, telling them goodbye or, in some cases, fuck off. Humans are weird.” Papa Legba shook his head, the cockscomb—as black as the feathers—at the top tilting to the side.
“And I get to meet you?”
“Would you rather talk to your father?”
“Good point.” Jon shuddered. “Since I’m already here, there’s something I always wanted to ask you.”
“Be my guest.”
“Why me? I mean there was a room full of corpses, and you woke me. Why?”
The cock did look a bit flustered, if poultry could be flustered. Was Papa Legba poultry? Technically the outer form did say something about what was inside. Again, Jon decided not to follow that special train of thought.
“I can take on any form I want. This is just the one I happen to like best. Plus, I thought it would be easier for you to talk to me like that. Not as threatening.”
Jon had seen The Birds by Hitchcock. He had never trusted avians since then. “Can you read my mind?”
“It’s not hard. You’re pretty obvious.” Papa Legba shook his wings. In combination with his spores and the beak, it was way more impressive than what Jon usually associated with poultry, and he already saw himself sitting on a bench while the cocks gathered behind him in the trees.
“So why did you do it? Grann says you always have a greater plan in mind.”
“Your Grann is a very wise woman, and I’m honoréd to have her as my priestess.” The cock clucked. “Did you get that? ‘Honoréd’, like in Honoré?”
“Uh, yes, hilarious.”
The cock murmured something about casting pearls before swine. Jon waited patiently for Papa Legba to get back to the original question. After some more grumbling, he went on, “I have to admit the greater plan with you was to see what the greater plan was.”
“Excuse me,” Jon said. “Somehow I just heard I was used as some kind of guinea pig.”
“Not exactly as a guinea pig. No, I wouldn’t use that term.” Papa Legba fluffed his feathers, which made him appear bigger. Because his feathers were also deep black and shiny, he looked a bit like a drowned rat—whose corpse could still bite off Jon’s finger. “You have to understand that sometimes I don’t see that clearly. I’m not the one who decides fates. That’s the Norns’ job, weaving and all that shit. It’s a bit hard to do with a beak, if you get my meaning? All I sense is importance, but I can’t connect it to anything. On that day, when Amede begged me to bring Grann back, I could feel there was somebody else who needed to wake up. I didn’t see why or to what end, but I just knew it was important. And here you are, being marked as the mate of a demon prince. I’d say my hunch was spot on.” The cock preened.
Unfortunately, Jon couldn’t say much against that. Finding his mate was a dream come true and said mate being Barion, his best friend and business partner? It was perfect.
“I guess I have to thank you for waking me up.” He must have sounded sadder than he intended, because suddenly the cock was gone, and he was surrounded by a presence of pure warmth and comfort. The words formed in his mind.
“I’m sorry you had such a hard time. I know how difficult it can be to leave my dominion behind, and I would have never done it for the heck of it. I hope you know that.”
Jon closed his eyes and leaned into Papa Legba’s embrace, accepting the comfort he was offering. “I know. And I have a mate now, so it was worth it. Thank you.”
“You’re always welcome.”
Jon heard a chuckle. “I think you need to go back now. The marking is done. Have a wonderful eternity, child of mine. I’m proud of you.”
The warmth receded, only to be replaced by pure heat, the heat of a demon. Jon slowly opened his eyes and met Barion’s red gaze. They stared at each other for some time, Jon not knowing what to say that would properly reflect the gravity of the moment and Barion obviously not faring any better. Finally, the demon opened his mouth.
“Uh, sorry, not sorry?” his friend and mate—yes, his mate—offered sheepishly.
Jon grinned, relieved at the immediate drop in tension. Trust Barion to make things right for both of them.
“Apology accepted, not accepted.” He slung his arms around Barion’s neck. “We’re mates. How cool is that?”
“Definitely cooler than just being friends.”
“And we didn’t have to go through the whole ‘are we, are we not, should we do it, should we not’ that Dre and Sammy endured.”
Barion pressed a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “Yeah, it was agonizing to watch. I’m so glad we got our swift kick in the butt without anybody thinking we could be mates.”
“You really had no idea?”
