Bonus Short Story Nolan Shouldn’t Make Deals with Minions
Nolan Shouldn’t Make Deals with Minions
Bonus Short Story
“Are you sure you don’t just want me to pick up something on the way home?” Sky asked for the third time.
Nolan leaned in and kissed his boyfriend’s jaw. “I’ve got this. You’re not the only one who knows how to use the stove.”
That earned him a skeptical eyebrow, but Nolan pressed his finger to it and pushed it lower again.
“Babe, you don’t have to cook to prove you love me,” Sky said with a sweet smile. “The way you fuck me shows me that.”
With a roll of his eyes, Nolan grabbed Sky’s shaking shoulders and turned him toward his powder-blue car. “Go. You don’t want to be late for your appointment.”
Sky snorted. “They’re dead. It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”
“Yeah, but your paying clients are alive and probably don’t enjoy waiting around a cemetery at night.”
“Fine. Fine. Don’t try anything complicated without me. This will take only an hour. I can pick up a bucket of chicken on the way home,” Sky called out as he climbed into his car. Nolan smiled and waved good-bye to him, watching as he reversed out of the driveway and drove down the street.
It was only when Sky turned the corner and disappeared from view that he exhaled a deep breath of relief. Time to put plan: Surprise Romance! into action.
For being a romance author—along with being an author of many other genres—he was sadly lacking in romantic gestures for Sky.
His adorable necromancer boyfriend was the one who planned the dates and dazzled him with flowers and other little gifts.
So far, Nolan had relied on his skills in bed and his ability to make Sky’s toes curl.
Tonight, he was going to make a romantic meal for his lover.
Honestly, cooking anything for Sky was going to be a big feat.
In the months they’d been together, the most complicated thing he’d made was a frozen pizza.
Of course, part of the reason he didn’t have a long history of cooking for Sky was that Sky loved to cook.
He was lucky to be allowed in the kitchen most of the time.
But tonight was different. A client had hired Sky to talk to a recently dead relative in order to get some answers regarding a missing will. Since the person had died only a couple of weeks ago, Sky was confident that this would be a fast job.
However, the drive to and from the cemetery and dealing with the client would all take at least an hour. That was plenty of time to cook a meal!
Nolan jogged across the street to his house, which had become an overgrown office for his writing.
All his sleeping, eating, relaxing, and general living was done at Sky’s house.
He knew he should sell his place and officially move in, but the act of getting up each day to walk across the street put his brain into the mindset of work.
By walking back across the street at the end of the day, he could turn off the part of his brain that handled all the book stuff.
It created the work-life barrier he’d been needing for years.
After unlocking the door, he zoomed to the kitchen, where he pulled a package of chicken out of the fridge.
He’d kept it there so his boyfriend wouldn’t know what he was making.
He paused on the porch, only to relock the door.
As he spun toward the house, a slight chill ran through him.
Night had settled over the city, and the sky was black as clouds blocked out the moon and stars.
Dead leaves skittered and tumbled down the street in the icy wind.
Fall was finished, and winter was muscling its way into the area.
The forecasters were even talking about snow.
But it wasn’t just the cold that brought a chill to Nolan. The setting of the sun always conjured up thoughts of vampires.
“Nope. I’m safe,” Nolan reminded himself. “The Variks have sworn to protect me, and no one wants to cross my scary-ass boyfriend.”
With that thought in mind, Nolan marched across the street with the package of chicken breasts under his arm. As he neared Sky’s house, the rose bushes stirred in greeting. A soft chomping and smacking sound rose from them.
“We’ll feed you after Sky gets home. I promise.”
The flowers rustled and fell silent as he reached the door.
“Did you get it? Are we going to do it?” Grammy Wallace demanded as soon as he stepped inside. The apparition floated before him, her various bracelets and necklaces giving a ghostly jangle.
“I have the chicken!” Nolan announced, holding the chicken up with one hand while he kicked the door closed behind him. “You’re sure fried chicken isn’t difficult, right?”
“No! No! Not at all!” Grammy said with a wave of her hands. “It’s just a shame you weren’t able to do an all-day buttermilk soak with it. That really enhances the flavor.”
Nolan shot her a look as he cut through the house to the kitchen. “The recipe I found mentioned nothing about buttermilk. I picked out one that called for only the ingredients that Sky had on hand.”
“Well, you don’t have to soak it all day, but you can do a nice wash with it and use it to make some of the crunchy bits.”
Leaving the chicken on the counter, Nolan spun and checked in the fridge. “We don’t have buttermilk. Can you make it by combining milk and butter? Is that the same thing?”
“I don’t think so. But you can get Frank to fetch some.”
Nolan closed the fridge and frowned at Sky’s ghostly grandmother. “I’m not a necromancer. I can’t summon the minions.”
“Of course you can!” she exclaimed with a chuckle.
“What?”
“Sure. Sky instructed the underworld minions to give you a hand if you ever needed help. You just have to call for Frank and tell him you need a favor. I’m sure Sky will settle up the debt when you’re done. It’s just a sandwich, right?”
Sky wouldn’t even have to do that. He could make sandwiches for Frank, and Sky would never have to know he’d used one of the underworld minions for help.
“How do I summon Frank? I can’t do magic.”
The ghost waved for Nolan to follow her into the living room and pointed to a cabinet. “Take out the black candle inside and light it. Then call for Frank.”
Well, that was easy. He opened the tall wooden cabinet and spotted the slender candle resting in a carved wooden holder.
He carried it to the kitchen, where he found the long candle lighter on the counter next to the mail and a stack of ads neither of them had bothered to go through yet.
After a couple of flicks, he got the candle lit.
“Um…Frank? You around?”
With a puff and brimstone and sulfur, the fuzzy black ball with spidery limbs and sharp teeth appeared. After months of seeing Frank regularly, Nolan had learned not to jump at the sight of the underworld minion.
“Hey, Frank. I need you to run an errand for me. I’m cooking a special dinner for Sky. Can I get Sky’s usual deal of you get me something and I give you a sandwich?”
The minion said something that was gibberish to Nolan’s ears. The only person he knew who could understand Frank and the other minions was Sky.
Nolan frowned at him. “Are you negotiating for chips?”
Frank lifted a fist and gave him a thumbs-up with a very long, curved claw. Lovely.
“Okay. One errand and you get a sandwich and a small bag of chips, but only after I’m finished cooking dinner for Sky,” Nolan countered.
Frank gave him another thumbs-up.
“Excellent!” Nolan darted into the kitchen and pulled up the recipe on his tablet. “Okay. I need a pint of buttermilk. It should be in the dairy aisle with the rest of the milk. But it says buttermilk. Got it?”
He’d barely finished speaking when Frank disappeared. Nolan sighed. He was not looking forward to explaining to Frank that he wasn’t getting paid for two trips if he retrieved butter and milk.
While Frank was gone, he set about boiling water and peeling potatoes for the mashed potatoes. The stove was preheating for some fluffy rolls from a tube. There was also a package of crunchy green beans that would be made in a skillet, but that was later.
“Shit!” he exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” Grammy demanded, zooming close.
“I just noticed that the recipe calls for white pepper. I’ve never heard of it. Is it the same as black pepper?”
“I’m not sure.”
He lifted his head and glanced around. Frank wasn’t back yet. “I think I need another minion. I can’t mix the spices with the flour without it.”
He’d barely finished speaking when a minion Nolan had never seen popped into the kitchen. He looked almost identical to Frank except instead of being black, this one was pale gray, as if he were made of ash. The minion chirped at him, sounding like a large cricket.
“I guess you’ve got another helper,” Grammy said. Nolan didn’t miss that she floated somewhat behind him, so that Nolan was between her and the demonic minion.
“Um…have you helped Sky before?”
The minion chirped again and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Same deal. Run an errand for me, and you get a sandwich and a small bag of chips.”
The minion made a happy noise and offered two thumbs this time. That was a good sign, right?
“Okay, I need white pepper. It’ll be in the spice and baking aisle at the grocery. Just a container like this,” he instructed, holding up a glass container of paprika.
The minion chirped one last time and disappeared. A moment later, Frank reappeared with a pint of actual buttermilk. Clearly, these minions were smarter than he’d given them credit for.
Nolan returned to prepping the potatoes and the flour mix for the chicken while the oil on the stove heated. The second minion appeared a minute after Frank and set down the white pepper on the counter. This was excellent. They moved to the dining room to sit and wait for their payment.