Demonic Uber Eats
“Why did you summon me?” Zachariel demanded, glowering at the frazzled-looking young man who was standing in the dingy kitchen. It had been centuries since he’d last been summoned, and he’d honestly thought all the magic users strong enough to overrule Oberon’s restraints had long died out. He wasn’t exactlyopposedto a summoning—it’s not like he got out much anymore—it was just that he hadn’t been expecting it. That tended to make him grumpier than normal and he’d ended up almost snarling at the poor guy. A kid, really. If he was older than twenty, Zach would kiss the Devil’s rosy-cheeked ass.
Said kid was now flipping hurriedly through a well-worn notebook, his wide eyes darting up every now and then as if checking he wasn’t hallucinating the demon standing in his kitchen. His floppy brown hair fell over his pale-blue eyes and freckled nose.
“Well?” Zach asked, arching one brow. He was trying to tone down how menacing he appeared but judging by the yelp that was audible all the way across the admittedly small room, he didn’t succeed.
“I don’t know!” the kid wailed, holding the book up and shaking it like he hoped something would fall out. “You were supposed to be chicken noodle soup!”
“Excuse me?” He surely didn’t hear that correctly.
“I was just trying to make dinner,” the kid said, utterly dejected now as he slumped down onto a chair at the table.
Curious, Zach strode over to the table and plucked the book from his hands. He flipped through it and grunted in surprise. “This is a book of spells,” he announced.
“What?” The kid’s head shot up from the table and he looked up at Zach in surprise. “My Aunt Harriett found it in my parents’ things after they died. It was my grandmother’s cookbook, so she gave it to me when I moved out here for university.”
Zach noted way too late just how close he was standing to the kid, when he realised that from this angle, looking down on wide, liquid eyes and a pretty pink mouth . . . well, time to putthatthought from his head before he embarrassed himself with a surprise hard on for the first time in centuries. “No, it’s definitely a spell book. Cleverly disguised as a cookbook, I’ll grant you, but there’s no denying the power behind it.”
“Are you saying Grammy was awitch?”the kid yelped.
Zach snorted. “Grammyis a ridiculous name to describe someone with such obviously strong magic.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “Oh, my bad . . . Are you sayingWinifred Edith Phillipswas a witch?”
Unable to help but grin at the snark, Zach nodded. “Most assuredly.”
There was a deep rumbling noise and the kid’s face went red as he grasped at his stomach. He then grimaced. “Well, that’s good to know and all but it doesn’t really help with my dinner situation.” He looked sadly at the pot of what was going to be soup—which was now sloshed over the stovetop—and then rather hopefully over at Zach. “I don’t suppose you brought any food with you?”
Zach didn’t think it was a very sophisticated look for a demon to have his jaw drop open like that, so he quickly shut his mouth. “Are you being serious right now? You get that I’m a demon, yeah?”
“Well,nowI do, but you didn’t exactly introduce yourself when you appeared in my kitchen.”
“Yousummonedme!”
“Well, I didn’tmeanto! The least you could have done is bring me my chicken noodle soup!”
“I am not Hell’s version of Uber Eats!”Zach thundered.
“How the heck does a demon know what Uber Eats is?” the kid snapped.
“We have the internet!” Zach snapped right back.
They both froze for a moment as the ridiculousness of their conversation became apparent, and then as one, they snorted with laughter. It had been a long, long time since Zach had laughed, and he’d forgotten how good it felt. The kid’s stomach grumbled again and that set them off into another gale of laughter until they were both clutching at their stomachs.
“Ow, it hurts,” the kid gasped between guffaws.
It took effort but Zach finally got his wits about him. “Okay, look—sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Drew,” the kid wheezed, finally calming down. “Drew Phillips.”
“Right, well, Drew Phillips, you can call me Zach.”
“Zach? What sort of a demonic name is that?”
It isn’t,he thought, but didn’t say it. “I doubt you could pronounce the name they have for me in the deepest pits of Hell,” he offered vaguely instead. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. Why don’t we head out somewhere so you can get some food?”
Drew frowned, his cheeks tingeing pink once again. “Oh, well, you see, the thing is . . . I, um . . . the reason I was cooking . . . ”
