Sympathy for the Demons (Promised to the Demons #1) - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,43
his servants. He needed me. My house, my food, my expertise, and maybe even my protection. The longer I kept him here, the more he needed me, and the more I could suck power from him.
So far my attempts had worked out very well. Better than I could have imagined, probably worthy of a scholar’s paper later. It was such an unusual situation for a high demon to be banished to Etherium with a servant who had never been severed from Etherium. Normally, he would have devoured my soul and dragged me to Sinistral first, where I would have lost much of my own power. Since there was no time for that, it seemed I had an unusual edge over him.
Not only did I feel a little bigger and stronger, but I could have sworn his pant legs hung over his shoes a little more, like I could actually steal his size and power bit by bit. I’d just have to be very patient to get as much as I needed before he noticed.
As we came back to the house, I heard some strange voices and commotion. Jenny and I both started to hurry. Those Ethereals that Variel pissed off the other day better not be attacking my house…
Variel was cutting down a tree with an axe, shirtless, muscular and sweating, and a man and a woman were with him supervising the logging operation. The other man was holding a coil of rope. Then I noticed the male harpy sitting on the roof of my house.
Oh, great. Don’t tell me he managed to call some minions.
“That’s perfect, my lord! She’s coming down!” the rope-carrying man said as one of my trees toppled, luckily not toward my house.
“What the hell?” I said, wishing I could cover Jenny’s eyes from the sight of Variel’s muscles swinging the axe.
“I’m building my own dwelling,” Lord Variel grunted. “With a proper bed.”
“You’re chopping down my trees!”
“You are my servant, Soundhunter, so these are my trees. And these are my senior servants, who were so loyal that they followed me here to this realm.” He was looking very cheerful. “The knobby ugly one is Uram, and the stupid little woman is Gillian, and the dirty vulture is Jameson.”
“Thank you for the flattery,” I said, irritated, since no one looked strong next to Lord Variel himself, and this was really just messing with my plans. “But you can’t just cut down a man’s trees. They’ve been here for centuries. That tree shelters the house from winter winds and now it’s gone. If you had just asked instead of…” I gritted my teeth and took a quick breath. I had to stay controlled at all times to be able to keep taking power from him. “There is a right way to go about getting lumber.”
“I think you’re exaggerating the problem,” Lord Variel said. “There are so many trees, I don’t see what one matters, but by all means, show me which are best. You will help us build the house and Jenny will make us all dinner.”
“I’m making dinner,” I said. “And I’m going to show Jenny a new spell.”
Gillian gasped at my audacity.
“I tell you what you do,” Lord Variel said. “I already got your note. Leaving without even waiting for me to wake, and no breakfast for your lord either.”
Jameson said, “I really recommend you just do what he says, or it only gets worse.”
“Variel!” Jenny said. “You’re really—like this? You’re going to make Bevan follow your orders? You’re really this cruel to your servants?”
“I told you,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.” I hated seeing it ruin her joy. “Go on and make your creme brulee.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jenny
I stoked the fire in the baking oven with a little fire spell, and poured the lovely cream into a saucepan with a vanilla bean.
“Mm…it already smells so good…,” I whispered.
If I was proud of anything in the world, I was certainly proud of this. The recipes I held in my head, and my mastery of the kitchen. I could make any old-fashioned oven the perfect temperature, and feel when the heat was right with my hand. I whisked the sugar and egg yolks while the vanilla infused the cream.
“Do you need any help?” Gillian poked her nose in the door.
“No, not really.”
“What are y’making?”
“Creme brulee.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“It’s pretty simple, really,” I said. “It’s just custard cream with a caramelized crust.”
“Our chef never made anything like that,” Gillian murmured to