Devil Deal

Chapter 1

The absolute stupidest thing any living person in this world can do is to make a deal with the Devil.

Here’s the thing—I’m the queen of bad decisions.

I’m sure you can do basic arithmetic. That’s right. One plus one equals I jumped at the chance when the opportunity presented itself. And having a deal with the Devil comes with no end of trouble, believe you me.

Don’t you have anything to make cocktails?

Not since you raided my shelves last, I said sullenly, leaning against my marble-top kitchen isle, cup of tea in hands while watching Luce shift through my cupboards determinedly, his white shirt rolled up to his sleeves, revealing the winding tattoo of intertwining vines on his muscular left forearm. But if you want tea, I’ve got you covered. I nodded toward the corner of my kitchen counter that was reserved for my roughly estimated fifty thousand types of loose-leaf tea boxes.

Luce barely turned around to scrunch his nose at me. Don’t you at least have coffee?

I squinted at the ceiling, trying to remember if I had bought coffee for any of my guests within the last few years. I hated the stuff myself. Wouldn’t be caught dead with it. But there had been that one guy last year—full beard, flannel shirts... The kind of guy who only drank draft beers and special-blend coffee and went to the farmer’s market every weekend. Pretty sure he’d been talking about going vegan, too. I thought I might have bought some coffee for him.

There might be some instant in the drawer over there. I pointed, and Luce rushed over, almost breaking the darn thing as he yanked it open. He pulled out an untouched packet of instant coffee, still neatly wrapped in plastic. The guy never had touched it, had he? I supposed it hadn’t been fancy enough for him. Well, I’d tried. Sorta.

Oh, thank the smoldering depths! Luce sighed in relief. Mildly amused, I watched him prepare the disgusting brew he so craved. Normally, Luce brought his coffee with him when he arrived, so somehow this had never come up as an issue before.

My attention was quickly diverted by my buzzing phone.

Reminder: 2morro @ 14:00 sharp! Don’t you dare b l8! L

I’d already marked the appointment in big, fat red letters in my calendar. There was not a chance in Hell I was going to miss Lynn trying on bridal gowns. She’d look far too cute, and not to mention beautiful, for me to miss it. Besides, there was going to be free champagne. Have you ever heard a girl pass up free champagne?

Yeah. I didn’t think so.

Besides, it was my duty as her best friend and maid of honor, and after all she had done for me over the years, I was going to be the best bridesmaid she could ever dream of having.

K.

After hitting send, I slipped my phone back in my pocket to find Luce staring at me, cradling his coffee.

Are you enjoying life? he asked.

I looked back at him with a blank expression. What?

Are you making the most of it? he elaborated. I don’t want you to die having regrets and all, since you’re gonna go... y’know... He jerked his thumb down.

I only raised an eyebrow.

After he continued to watch me intensely, I sighed and tucked a strand of my black hair behind my ear. I’m good, okay? Stop worrying so much. I smirked at him. You’re gonna make me think you actually care.

He smirked right back at me. Well, I guess we can’t have that now, can we? He finally took a sip of his coffee and shrugged. Fine.

I glanced at my watch. Time to head to work.

Do me a favor and leave the window cracked open when you go home. I walked around the kitchen island to grab my cheap, yet surprisingly durable, knock-off bag and keys. I don’t want the smell lingering.

Luce saluted smartly in response.

Oh, Ames! he called out as I headed out the door. I poked my head back in the kitchen. Let me know when you’re ready for me to set you up.

He grinned that blindingly devilish grin of his, the one that suited his milk-coffee-colored complexion so well, the kind that made most people swoon at the sight of it.

I rolled my eyes. When Hell freezes over.

I can arrange for that, you know.

But I don’t think your daddy would let you.

He scowled at me. That’s foul play, he grumbled. Leave my dad out of it.

Instead of letting myself be pulled into a long, drawn-out discussion on the matter, I just headed out, only yelling Byeeee into the hallway before the front door shut and locked behind me.

I wished I had skipped work. Instead of getting cracking on my backlog of analyses, my boss, Carol, had handed me a new person to train within five minutes of arriving. Why that task suddenly fell to me, I had no idea. Maybe Carol was busy. Maybe she was hoping my past experiences as secretary slash office manager in a smaller company would help me give this new hire a few good insider tips. Kit, as she told me she liked to be called, was fresh out of college and had not been hired for her brains, as I realized quickly through our interactions. Still, she seemed like a nice young woman. And if everyone handled her with kid gloves, she’d be doing just fine as office manager. In this place, it shouldn’t be too tough anyway.

Kit had a slender figure and was about my height, though her childlike behavior made her seem shorter. Her outfit, made up of impractical heels and a bright red dress that matched her lipstick, drew a lot of attention as I showed her around the office, introducing her to people. Many gazes lingered on her for longer than was strictly polite. After ensuring she’d met everyone she needed to know from day one in order to do her job, I took her to the kitchen.

You can get coffee here, or tea if you prefer, I told her, and over there you can grab fresh fruit whenever. Any questions so far?

Um, yeah. She giggled, batting her brown eyes as she twirled a long, strawberry-blonde curl around one finger. Do you, like, have a pool here?

I stared at her in disbelief. Huh?

"A pool, or a massage chair. You know, my friend, she works at Google, and she told me that they have a pool and a massage chair and free breakfast, and they even get video games on loan for free."

She smiled innocently at me, but I could only stare back at her blankly.

A pool, I repeated, trying to wrap my head around the fact that she was comparing our company to Google. She nodded earnestly. No, I said slowly. We do not have a pool. We don’t have a massage chair, either.

Oh. Her lips dropped into a pout.

But you get free drinks and fresh fruit every day—that’s pretty cool? I gestured at the kitchen.

Kit pursed her lips and looked across the room. I guess, she said, visibly crestfallen.

I shook my head, trying to wrap my head around her expectations. She hadn’t even been here for a whole day yet!

Okay, let’s get you some training. Amanda should be done setting up your computer now. I didn’t wait to see if she’d follow me. I just marched out and straight through the office to her desk, sadly close to mine. I could see from here that my phone was blinking to inform me of missed calls, and I would have bet a fortune on emails having piled up by the dozens every minute I’d spent with Kit. I didn’t mind training her, but I wished I’d have gotten some kind of advanced notice so I could have prepared for it. Right now, it was just unnecessarily causing me more stress.

Um, what’s the security code? Her words ripped me from sullen thoughts, only to throw me a curve ball. Her screen was displaying the message that should only pop up when the wrong password had been inserted three times.

Kit, I asked, trying to remain calm and patient. Do you know what your password is meant to be yet?

No, she said cheerfully. That’s why it didn’t work, I guess. What’s the security code?

I had to restrain myself from wiping my hand across my face. Why would you try to enter a password if you don’t know what it is?

She shrugged. I thought it might mean the one I use for my computer at home. Or a trick question and there is no password. But neither of them worked, so I tried to make up a new one.

Her smile was radiant. But I was starting to wonder if there was a brain hidden behind that almost snow-white forehead of hers.

This was going to be a long, long day.

I drove back home to my house at the end of a lovely cul-de-sac, exhausted from training Kit and having to explain the simplest things without losing my patience. That last part had truly been the most difficult of them all. Never mind that I’d also had to stay late to get the most vital parts of my actual work done before the weekend. Not how I’d hoped the day would go.

Frustrated, I slammed my bag on the kitchen counter before I put away the mess Luce had left behind, starting with his used cup.

Honey, I’m home, I said quietly to myself. Sarcastically, obviously.

The house was empty. Maybe I should get a cat. Dogs felt like too much work. They were nice to pet and all, but all the attention I’d have to give them? Ugh, don’t sign me up for that. Then again, I’d probably be a terrible pet owner even for a cat. I’d just forget to clean the litter box, or quite possibly even to feed it.

I grimaced at the thought. No pets for me.

Besides, I had Luce. And he was so much more work than a pet could ever be. With all his shenanigans and random pop-ups, I had my hands full.

I recalled a hairy situation last year, right around the time that thing with the coffee guy had gone haywire, where we’d worried that he might have gotten some woman pregnant. It wasn’t very likely thanks to his heritage, but it was certainly possible. Any cat I might have had around that time would have left and never looked back—or have starved to death. Luce had not been pleased about his dubious genes potentially being passed on.

I opened the fridge—nothing worthy of notice. Closing it, I pulled out a random restaurant flyer from the stack under a fridge magnet. A moment later, I was dialing the number for a Japanese restaurant’s delivery service. The moment the first ring came through, I could sense Luce’s presence—along with an unpleasant waft of rotten eggs that luckily faded quickly thanks to the open window.

Sashiminiki, an unenthusiastic voice droned out of the speaker. May I take your order?

Luce practically jumped into my field of vision, signing me that he wanted in. I nodded as I gave the restaurant our usual order.

When I hung up, I turned around to find Luce plonking a tiny crystal figurine on the counter. No, not crystal. Ice. It was already forming a puddle.

Eh? He gestured at it enthusiastically.

What are you trying to do? I asked, equal amounts puzzled and amused.

It’s ice, he said, by way of explanation.

I can see that. I stepped closer to take a better look. It was a figurine of himself, unsurprisingly, holding a mace in what I assumed he’d meant to be a seductive manner. What I mean is, why?

I made Hell freeze over.

I glanced up at him. Um... I hate to sound like a broken record, but... why?

He dropped his arms and crossed them in front of his chest, pouting. So you’ll agree to let me set you up, obviously. It’s about time you get back on that horse.

No, thanks, I said quickly. There’s no way I’m letting you set me up.

Why not? He looked so disappointed. Like a puppy that had had its favorite chew toy taken away. I couldn’t possibly find someone worse for you than you did yourself.

Oof. He really knew where to prick so it hurt. But he wasn’t wrong. After all, my choice in men was the reason I was here, chatting with the Devil in my very kitchen. And from the few years I’d known him, I knew he wasn’t going to give up on this easily.

I sighed, pushing him out of the way so I could saunter to the living room and drop on the couch. I’ll think about it.

I didn’t end up thinking about it. Mostly because we spent the rest of the evening watching bad movies. Like, really bad movies. The kind that were so bad that they were good again—provided you watched them with the right people. And, well, Luce had proven to be the right people on many occasions.

I didn’t know what compelled him to come see me as often as he did when our deal had backfired on me. After all, I knew for a fact that it wasn’t normal Devil behavior and definitely nothing that had any impact on our deal. But he’d stuck around. Helped me pick up the pieces of my shattered heart and shown me the way to move on. And somewhere along the way I’d started to think of him as my friend.

Don’t judge me—hanging out with him was fun, okay? Devil or not.

Want some ice cream? I asked when we had finished the first movie—and our dinner.

He reflected on my offer theatrically. Ice cream... His spread fingertips came together softly and parted again as he frowned at the ceiling. I watched him patiently. It shouldn’t take long for him to say that he wanted some.

When I’d first met him, it had been in his Devil shape. He had three shapes: his Devil form, his human form, and his angel form. You’d be surprised to learn which one of them was the scariest. Hint: It wasn’t the Devil form.

As a human, he looked normal—incredibly handsome, sure, with his luscious, dark hair and equally dark eyes, but nevertheless like an ordinary person. And one with good fashion sense, too. Usually, he liked wearing either white or blue shirts neatly tucked into his jeans. A respectable outfit for most occasions. Even now, lounging on my couch, he didn’t bother changing into something more comfortable like I had. Next to him, I looked like a bog gremlin in my sweats and messy bun.

Ice cream? he repeated quietly to himself, narrowing his eyes as if it were a tough decision. Ice cream, he eventually confirmed with a slow nod. With a dash of Bailey’s.

He was damned lucky I had hidden some of the stuff in my basement fridge.

On my way down the stairs, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at it, but upon seeing an unknown number, I decided not to answer. Anyone whom I didn’t have saved on my phone shouldn’t be calling me on it. They shouldn’t even have the number. If they needed to get in touch with me for any reason, they could just call the landline my uncle had installed way back when. Or send an email like a normal person. Heck, I’d probably even accept a text or conventional letter. But no random caller was going to wreck my Friday night, as uneventful as it might be.

Just as I was going through the freezer to look for the ice cream, I heard a sudden thudding sound from upstairs. Grabbing both the ice cream and Bailey’s quickly, I rushed back up.

Luce? What did you knock over this time? Please tell me it’s not the TV! My shout received no reply. In fact, I didn’t hear much of anything. Luce?

I entered the living room—empty. No one was here. The lamp next to the couch where Luce had been just minutes earlier had been knocked to the floor, though.

Before I had time to really contemplate what had just happened, and why Luce had gone, the doorbell rang. I really couldn’t catch a break tonight, could I? What was with these constant interruptions?

With a sigh, I deposited my loot from the basement on the table and made to open the front door, only sparing a brief moment to glance somewhat annoyed at my subpar appearance in the hallway mirror.

Can I help you? I said to the two men wearing black suits and sunglasses, even though it was night. So douchey. Let me guess, you’re gonna tell me you’re from the FBI or something?

I’d meant it to be a joke, but neither one of them smiled.

Miss Amelia Perez? The one who spoke looked like he was in his late forties, maybe even fifties. There were streaks of grey in his hair, but not enough to be very noticeable. He was so white, he may as well have been a ghost.

That’s me. Impatiently, I tapped the doorframe. What’cha got for me?

The other one, white with a dash of tanning studio, craned his head trying to look into the house past me. Raising an eyebrow, I stepped into his line of sight while pulling the door a little into their way.

The first guy cleared his throat.

We’re here to check for gas leaks, he said. We realize the timing might be inconvenient, but it’s for your own safety, you understand.

A gas leak?

Oh yeah? Skeptical, I searched both their faces for information. Who sent you?

Excuse me? He seemed genuinely startled by my question, so I graciously repeated it for him.

Which organization do you work for?

Oh, uh, Gas Networks, of course.

I narrowed my eyes. So you rang my doorbell while suspecting a gas leak in my home?

The two glanced at each other. Tanning-Studio shrugged. Well, yes.

No way. One of the first pieces of advice found online about gas leaks was not to use any form of electrical appliances, including doorbells, if one suspected a gas leak. I knew, because I’d looked it up because I kept smelling rotten eggs back when Luce first came into my life and I’d been concerned about it. No way a professional would have risked it. Which meant that I didn’t trust these two farther than I could throw them. Which... wasn’t very far. Or at all. I’d never really been all that much into fitness, though I told myself every few months that I’d start going to the gym.

Well, I’m sure it’s okay, I chirped. I’ve not noticed anything strange. Have a good day!

I moved to close the door in their faces, but White-as-a-Ghost-Face slipped his foot between door and frame. I could hear the tiniest yelp when the door hit his foot.

"Excuse me, there must be some misunderstanding. But you see, we have to