“There are people with transformative magic, but no, ‘werewolves’ are not a thing. The moon affects the tides, not someone’s metaphysical state. I can’t understand why people believe it would.” His tone was the exact one Aunt Harriett used when she explained to their neighbour that she was never going to get rich from a pyramid scheme—a little bit condescending, a little bit exasperated, and a little bit fond.
“Oh, but demons with Wi-Fi are a thing,” Drew snarked. “That’s totally more believable than someone turning into a wolf during the full moon. What internet provider do you use? Do you even have an account?”
“We use Comcast and don’t be ridiculous . . . we don’t pay for an account.”
“So you just steal people’s bandwidth?”
Zach rolled his eyes. “No, we get it in exchange for providing lesser demons for their call centres.”
Drew snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s a system which works surprisingly well.”
“I’m sure.”
“It benefits everyone.”
“Except for the customers ringing in for tech support.”
Zach sniffed delicately. “People who don’t know the difference between an internet browser and a search engine don’t deserve nice things.”
“That’s harsh,”Drew teased.
Zach shrugged. “I’m a demon, what else do you expect?”
Drew leaned back in his chair to make room for the waitress who had arrived and was placing their food in front of them, the food whichZachhad paid for after appearing in Drew’s kitchen because of his failed chicken noodle soup disaster. He wanted to point out that he hadn’t expected a demon to be so kind, or so intelligent or tech savvy, or to have such a great sense of humour, but he kept quiet, not sure if he wanted to push the boundaries and see what a demon was really capable of. All Drew really knew was that he knew nothing at all. It wasn’t as if anything he’d studied in his MBA course had prepared him for such a situation.
Zach looked at the double-shot peppermint mocha in front of him suspiciously. He’d opted for coffee only while Drew got a proper meal. He picked it up and sniffed it and then his tongue darted out to lick at the whipped cream on top of it. Drew blushed as he watched Zach’s cream-covered tongue disappear back into his mouth, leaving behind a smidgen of cream on his upper lip. He looked away just in time to avoid seeing that tongue peek out and lap it away. He hadn’t had a chance to do his laundry yet and he didn’t have any clean underwear, so if he ruined these ones by coming in his pants, he was screwed. “I’m beginning to suspect,” Zach mused, eyes still glued to the beverage. “That this should be classified as dessert, not coffee.”
“Well, it’s amochaso it’s kinda both, rolled into one big cup of deliciousness,” Drew defended it.
Zach took a sip, frowned thoughtfully, and then took another sip. “It’s notbad,”he conceded. “But it’s a little too sweet for me.” He pushed it across the table to Drew. “You have it. I’ll order some plain coffee instead.”
“Thanks,” Drew mumbled around a mouthful of the burger he’d ordered. He knew he was eating too fast, shovelling food into his mouth as quickly as he could as Zach signalled to the waitress, but he was too hungry to care. He’d been living on ramen and white bread, too proud to ask Aunt Harriett for money for food, and telling his friends that he’d eat when hegot home to avoid spending money when they were out studying. It had been at least three days since his last proper meal—his best friend Todd went to uni up in Parksville and his family had Drew around once a month for dinner—and so all decorum had gone out the window. At least Zach didn’t seem to be offended, doctoring the black coffee the waitress bought him with a little creamer and then savouring the taste as he sipped it slowly.
It took a matter of minutes for Drew to clear his plate of everything, even the salad garnish, and he drained an entire glass of water to fill in the gaps. He was feeling full for the first time in months, and he took a mouthful of the mocha, just enjoying the sweet taste in his mouth before he swallowed. It was the perfect end to his meal. “So, how long does this summoning thing last?” he asked, both curious and not wanting the comfortable silence to drag out until it became awkward.
“Until you send me back,” Zach replied.
Drew bit his lip. “Um . . . how do I do that?”
“No idea,” Zach said cheerfully. “I’m not the witch here.”
“Neither am I!” Drew protested.
Shrugging, and looking totally unconcerned, Zach just said, “I guess you’re stuck with me for a while then.”
There were several problems Drew could see with that, the biggest being he wasn’t sure how he’d survive being around someone as attractive as Zach without making an utter fool of himself. Also, how was he going to explain Zach to his friends? If they showed up and saw him, they were going to ask questions. They all knew he didn’t know anyone like Zach, and they’d want to know where they met, who he was, and of course they’d be able to tell right away that Drew thought he was hot. Anyone who knew Drew knew he normally didn’t react to an attractive person at all, so his bumbling and blushing would be like a beacon. He’d never live it down.
Before Drew had a chance to try and articulate any of this into a reasoned argument aboutwhyZach couldn’t stay around and that they’d need to find a way to send him home, Zach derailed his train of thought.
“Ooh, what’s their pie like here? I haven’t had really good pie in almost as long as the coffee.”
“Oh, um, it’s good. Really good.”
“Hmmm, really good, huh? Really good as in, ‘I feel like something sweet and it’s better than McDonald’s soft serve,’ or really good as in, ‘This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten before?’”
“Really good, as in I’d sell my soul toyoufor a piece,” Drew said without really thinking, and then when it clicked what he’d said, his hand flew up to his mouth and he stared in horror at Zach.
