“Tell you what… I’ll come at seven and bring breakfast. Anything you don’t like?” Barion was glowing now.
“I’m good with everything, though nothing too hearty early in the morning.”
“Got it, lay off the Haggis and Blutwurst. Ah, found it.” Barion had been looking for the Christmas episode while they talked. Now he pressed play and Jon sank back into the comforting softness of his couch. This, he could get used to.
Chapter Four
Barion was pacing in his living room, thinking so hard that steam was literally curling out of his ears. Tomorrow he would be playing Eden’s Doom with Jon, and he had yet to find a suitable gamer name for himself. Jon was setting the bar pretty high with PLM, which reminded Barion that he had to ask what it stood for. So far there were a lot of crazy suggestions out there, from it being the initials of Jon’s first loves, either in the flesh or gaming characters—people were hazy about that—to some strange code making sense only to people who spent way too much time researching conspiracy theories, all of which Barion dismissed after having spent an entire afternoon and evening with the zombie. He wasn’t sure what he wanted his own gamer name to be. There were so many possibilities. For a moment he toyed with the idea to use a demonic name, just for fun, but then he remembered what the ‘bit of fun’ Corriwyn had wanted to have had meant for demonkind and decided to not go that route, which only left about a million other possibilities.
The name had to be cool, and mysterious, and a bit of fun, perhaps an allusion to something he liked. Hmm, how can I make a clever reference to Khachapuri? Barion was so engrossed in the name finding that he almost didn’t register the tear in time and space close to the door to the hall, announcing a visitor. Since he had his home warded against unwanted guests, especially of the demonic variety, he was sure it was somebody he’d at least tolerate seeing. He hadn’t expected that somebody to be his father, because the old man seemed to be busy all the time, what with being the king of all demons. To Alerion’s credit, Barion had to say he made more time for his sons now that Dre had found his mate.
“Son, it’s so good to see you!” Alerion hugged Barion.
“It’s good to see you, too, Dad. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Can’t a man just visit his youngest son?” Alerion was leaning back from the hug without letting Barion go, trying for innocent and failing completely. Not that any demon was able to pull off ‘innocent’ at all. This notion was so contrary to the inherent nature of demons that it was like mixing mousse au chocolat with pickles. No sane person would ever try to do so—well, unless they were pregnant, or so he’d been told. But the normal population? Not even when hell froze over, which wasn’t as impossible as people thought, as hell dimensions went through a steady cycle of hot and cold, on a scale of eons, which made it kind of hard to track, plus they were completely uninhabitable, killing anything alive within seconds of arrival. They were the most hostile dimensions Barion had ever come across. Demons could exist everywhere, even though they were, technically, alive, so the hell rule didn’t apply to them. It still didn’t make hell dimensions any more tempting or inviting. So no, he wasn’t buying it.
“A man can, but the king of all demons cannot. What are you up to?”
Alerion sighed dramatically while he stepped back, letting go of Barion’s shoulders, to sit down on his couch. “I’m here to invite you to a nice evening with Swiss cheese fondue in Lausanne.”
“And?” Barion knew his father too well to fall for his act.
“And Dre and Sammy might be coming, too, wanting to talk to you about your play date with Jon?” Alerion had the grace to look sheepish.
Barion sighed inwardly. Of course his nosy brother-in-law had gotten wind of their get together.
“Why are you doing everything Sammy wants?” he asked his father accusingly. Alerion lifted his hands in defense.
“That’s not true. I love all my children equally and try to be fair to all of you.” He had the gall to look offended.
“Stop it, Dad. We all know Sammy is your favorite.”
“Well, he is a lot cuter than the lot of you. You’ve got to admit that. I mean, just look at his beautiful bi-colored eyes and the way he bites his lips when he finds a new book he likes. And he hasn’t set anything on fire yet or tried to kill me with his cooking. Actually, his cooking is delicious.”
“I get it. Sammy is perfect.” Barion huffed in mock-annoyance. He liked Sammy as well. “But he can’t set anything on fire because he doesn’t have the power, and I didn’t try to kill you. I wanted to make you happy.”
“I’m not sure about happy, but it was definitely memorable.” Alerion patted Barion’s shoulder. “Now get ready. We’re already a little late.”
“I haven’t said I’d come.”
Alerion just lifted a brow. Barion huffed. “Fine. Are you doing the honors?”
“As if I’d let you drive.” Alerion snorted before he lifted his hand, ripping thin air again. Barion stepped closer to his father so they could enter the portal together.
“I don’t think this is technically driving, and I’ve been doing this for centuries. Just saying.”
“It’s the equivalent of driving and I don’t care how long you’ve been doing this. I’ve still got more experience.”
They stepped into a side street close to Parc de Milan, which was still quite busy at eight p.m. The glamour demons carried with them protected them from being discovered, making them look like two impressively tall men in dark clothing, but still human men, not eight foot plus demons. People avoided them nevertheless, their survival instincts still strong enough to recognize apex predators in their midst, despite the sense-numbing lives they lived. From Rue Voltaire they went left into Rue Jean-Louis-de-Bons where the restaurant they would be visiting was located. It was one of Barion’s family’s favorite restaurants, much like the one Zenobia ran in Rome. This one, the Faucon, was owned by a family of falcons who had been living in Lausanne almost as long as the city had existed.
When they entered, Ottilie, the daughter of the matriarch, greeted them with a broad smile. “Bienvenue, Alerion, Barion. It’s a pleasure to see you. Dresalantion and his bien-aimé are waiting in the private room.”
Alerion took Ottilie’s hand and kissed it. “Enchanté, ma cheré. It’s our pleasure to be here tonight.”
Barion rolled his eyes behind his father’s back. The old sweet-talker. Ottilie giggled happily, grabbing Alerion’s hand and leading them through a hall past the main eating room toward the private rooms where the most revered and financially potent guests were seated. The whole restaurant was decked in warm earth tones with golden highlights, giving it a cozy, yet elegant feeling. The door to their usual room was open and Barion saw Dre and Sammy already sitting at the table on the thickly upholstered chairs in dark brown with golden seams. Sammy was talking animatedly to Brice, Ottilie’s brother, the human’s hands waving wildly through the air while his eyes gleamed happily. Brice had that glazed-over look people often got around Sammy while Dre was hanging onto his mate’s every word with an indulgent, proud smile on his lips.
“Oh, I see my son-in-law is already making friends,” Alerion commented while stepping inside the room.
