Chapter 2 Disaster Demon
DISASTER DEMON
Lazerath
“Happy retirement!”
The door was promptly shut in Lazerath’s face.
“Aww, come on!” he shouted, listening to his twin brother stomp away from the front door.
But there had been no click of the lock, and when Laz tested the handle, it opened.
He chased after Severath, who really wasn’t trying all that hard to escape if he thought the kitchen was the best place to hide.
“How do you lock out a demon carrying cookies? Frosted cookies, even!”
He knew the answer, of course. This demon had told that demon who had then spoken a little too loudly at the bakery, once again confusing Lazerath for Severath and the miraculous healing of his horn.
Considering Laz only risked losing a horn nowadays when he stood too quickly in the bakery’s kitchen and smashed his head against the hearth, he’d learned something was up.
Which led him to the infirmary, followed by discovering there were humans in Heck, brought back by his own brother, and when they wouldn’t let him in despite his obvious familial connections to demons within the infirmary—and he’d failed to imitate his twin—his cousin, Balran, had come outside to tell him Severath would be recovering at home.
She’d failed to mention the broken horn. Or the gnarly cloth covering his eye. Or the devastation on Sev’s face.
Laz’s hand fell back to his side when he saw his twin flinch. “At least they grow—”
Severath shook his head. “Sorcery destroyed the bud.”
Fuck. If it wouldn’t grow back…
Laz grinned with the idea, then thrust the bag of cookies at his twin. “You can have mine!”
He proceeded to yank at his horn in an attempt to break it off. Which of course devolved into chaos, as Lazerath was prone to do, but it managed to wipe the pouty look off Sev’s face.
But then he was being rushed out the door with no recollection of how he’d gone from offering up his horn to being ejected from his brother’s cozy cottage.
Something about a criminal or a depraved caramel.
Warrior shit that Laz usually had no stomach for.
But there was a tiny, hooded figure being escorted up the path by Drolmoth and Garion, and Laz was just wary enough about his brother’s warning to keep walking.
Definitely not to avoid Drolmoth.
He was halfway back into Heck proper when he stopped short, realizing that he’d been fooled into leaving when his whole goal had been to stay for the rest of the afternoon.
“Oh, that tricky fucker,” he mumbled, then grinned and continued down the street. He’d just visit another day, and if Sev locked him out, he’d simply use the spare key his brother didn’t know about.
By the time he made it to the bakery, he’d compiled a list of supplies for the kitchen—which he’d already forgotten—a new recipe to try—for some reason he was thinking of caramel—and a full dance routine he would try the next time he and Dav went out for the night.
He smiled at the freshly painted sign welcoming demons to Lovable Loaf.
Everything about his life was perfect. Except for the ingredients that were going bad faster than they could make and sell desserts.
And the way deliveries always seemed more expensive, even when they arrived days later than expected.
And the loneliness he felt every time he opened the door to his apartment and remembered he lived alone.
Laz pushed through the door and froze.
Empty.
He frowned and turned to check the posted hours on the window, then noticed what the issue was.
“Dav, you forgot to switch the card to open,” he called with a chuckle, then cursed.
He was supposed to switch it before he went to see Sev.
“What was that?” came Dav’s voice from the back.
“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!”
With a grimace, Laz spun the sign and hurried behind the counter.
Davarox stood in the kitchen, leaning over his work.
A container of pinkcurrants sat on the counter as he frosted the yellow sponge, hands steady and tongue poking out as he focused.
His gray arms flexed in his sleeveless shirt, the hearth already spiking the temperature as he prepared for the batch of treats that needed to be made.
Laz oftentimes found himself laughing at the sight of his best friend, all breadth and brawn with a demeanor to rival those of the warriors, who spent his mornings baking bread and counting the sprinkles on each cupcake so they never went to waste.
But then he’d remember why Davarox preferred to sequester himself to the back room and it became a little less funny.
Sev and Dav had always been similar, even if Sev was technically Laz’s twin. Both grumpy, serious, and avoiding social interaction as best they could. That was fine; Lazerath made up for all of those things.
“Okay, so we’re going to need, like, daily bread deliveries to Severath.” Laz tossed his apron on before shoving his hands in the sink to wash. “He’s all sad face to go with grumpy face, which is awful because, like, his face.”
Davarox grunted, leaning closer to his work. “It’s your face. Though, you’ve proclaimed yours the better looking one.” Laz grimaced as he reached for his supplies, and somehow, even with his back turned, Davarox sensed it. He stood straighter and frowned. “What happened to his face?”
Ingredients for the soufflé abandoned, Lazerath grabbed a stool and dragged it closer to his friend. He started with the facts, and once Dav had gotten over his initial anger at how Severath had been injured, Laz began to fill in all the not-so-factual things.
Observations, that was the word. His observations of his brother, like the fact that the nub of his horn looked all jagged and not oiled like Balran had probably ordered.
Then there was the dark bruising whenever his cloth wrap shifted.
And of course he couldn’t forget about the hardened caramel Severath was preparing his home for.
“Criminal,” Davarox muttered, focus back on the cake.
“What?”
“Criminal, not caramel. One of the humans was a murderer, and he was asked to keep an eye on her. That’s probably who you saw walking up to the house.”
Lazerath blinked. “That little human was not a murderer.” He would know. His father had called them monsters. Terrifying beasts with teeth and skin and eyes—admittedly, demons also had those features. But then he cocked his head. “Wait, how did you know that?”
Dav shrugged, delicately placing the pinkcurrants on the lowest tier. “Demons talk.”
Which was Dav-speak for “someone said something shitty in his presence because they were being shitty.”
Laz never understood the stigma around demons who had lost their magic.
He’d never thought Davarox diseased or sick or weak because his skin was gray and he possessed no magic, even if Dav had been born without magic compared to others who lost it later in life.
Lazerath had seen a boy his age playing alone and declared them best friends.
Good thing, too, because Dav and Sev were much better at fending off bullies than Lazerath ever was or would be.
The three had been basically inseparable, if you didn’t count Sev joining the guard once he was of age. Which was devastating when Lazerath had grand plans to open up the best bakery in Heck alongside his favorite demons. But he still had Davarox, who was the brains of the operation.
And the muscle.
And the talent.
But Laz had the spirit and the charm as he wooed their customers in with a smile and conversation and great handwriting for the window displays. So what if he sometimes forgot to switch the sign to open and didn’t understand the difference between income and profit and sunk cost? He was happy.
He exhaled long and slow, propping his head up with his hand. “We should go out.”
Davarox didn’t blink at the change in conversation, rotating the cake stand as he fixed some frosting. “We’ve got inventory to sort this afternoon.”
“Tomorrow?” His friend grunted. “Please, I’ve got the sads.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is.” Lazerath pouted, pointing to his face. “See this? This is a sad face. I have the sads. Sev kicked me out and he’s shutting down and his sadness makes me sad.”
Dav sighed and stood straighter, folding his arms over his chest. “Please don’t say it’s a—”
“It’s a twin thing.”
He rolled his eyes. “What else is it?”
Laz’s shoulders deflated. “I don’t know, I’m just…
” He sighed, spinning on the stool and using his tail to propel himself.
“I knew Sev was always at risk of getting hurt in the guard, but seeing it? Just kind of made me realize how lonely we’ve been.
” He stopped abruptly, not waiting for the dizziness to settle as he looked at Dav’s wobbly form. “Are you lonely?”
Dav’s tail flicked. “Hard to be, around you.”
Lazerath waved him off. “Not that. I mean, romantically. We’re thirty-three and haven’t seriously courted anyone. Sev’s got that big house and no one to fill it, and we can barely afford our apartments because you refuse to live with me.”
The gray demon turned back to the cake, focus intense as he inspected it. “We can’t have every minute of our lives be together, Laz.”
“Why not?”
Davarox grunted.
“I just think it’d be nice to go out and have some fun. Find someone to take home to have even more fun.”
“What happened to courting?”
“I can only think so many days into the future,” Laz argued. “So, what do you think?”
Dav grunted again.
“Pleeease?”
With a huff, the gray demon’s entire body sagged. “Fine.”
“Yes!” Lazerath cheered, spinning himself on the stool once more before nudging Dav’s arm. “There’s my lovable loaf.”
To his delight, Davarox’s cheeks darkened at the childhood nickname. As much as he claimed to hate it, Laz had seen the look on Dav’s face when he announced the name of the bakery. That sort of faraway, brain-not-functioning look like he didn’t know what to make of it.
Which was ridiculous, of course. From the moment Laz had come up with the nickname—for as hardened as Dav seemed on the outside, his love language was baked goods—he’d declared it the name of their future bakery.
The first time he’d thought more than two or three days ahead, if he was being honest, but that always felt possible when he was doing something with his best friend.
“What do you think?”
Lazerath blinked to find Dav gesturing to the tiered white cake with pinkcurrants decorating the corners.
“Blightspawn cake!” Laz jumped from his seat to look at it from all angles. “Shit, Dav. Didn’t think we needed another one, but look at that detail.”
It was perfect. Beyond perfect. Not a single tier out of place, with perfectly frosted sides and evenly placed fruits. A masterpiece in the hands of the greatest baker Heck had ever known… would know, once the shop really took off.
“That’s how you do a soulbonded proposal,” Lazerath said, propping his hands on his hips as he grinned. “No one could say no to this.”
Davarox’s cheeks had gone dark again, which was adorable and only gifted on the rarest of occasions.
Laz nudged his friend with an elbow. “This is going to sell so fast, but I’ll charm it anyway and prop it in the case. Another Davarox delicacy. Hey! We should name a new recipe that. Something with caramel, I’ve been craving that for some reason.”
The bell over the front door chimed, voices carrying into the back. With a nod, Lazerath carefully picked up the blightspawn cake and carried it out to greet the customers.