Whatever for Hire

by RJ Blain

  “There has to be hundreds of them,” Malcolm complained as we climbed the steps and passed beneath the stone arch flanked by columns on our way to the main doors. “Why here? Why now?”

  The next time I agreed to attend a party, I’d wear pants—pants with pockets. I wanted to know, too, so I held my hand out to Malcolm. “Phone, please.”

  Malcolm chuckled, retrieved my phone from the leather pouch hanging from his belt, and offered me the device. I took it, drew in a soothing breath, and considered my choices. If I had to dance to the devil’s tune, I’d at least make him worth my hassle. I dialed his number while we waited in line for security to let us into the building.

  The devil answered on the first ring. “Hi, cupcake. I was starting to think you didn’t love me anymore.”

  Ugh. “Hey, Satin. I have a question for you.”

  “I’m honored. What do you need?”

  “There’s an incorporation named Wishing Well. Know anything about them?”

  “I do. What’s gotten your tail in a kink?”

  “A lot of dead bodies.”

  “Ah. They’ve made their move, then. I was wondering when it would happen. How many have they ensnared thus far?”

  “Hundreds.” It worried me although it didn’t surprise me that the devil knew of the company. “What’s going on?”

  “Same old game, new strategy. It’s a matter of demons and devils, but some of the contestants are trying new tricks. Do yourself a favor: don’t make any deals with them.”

  I snorted. “Wasn’t planning to. I like my soul right where it’s at. I’ve never seen dead people just keep going like this before. What’s happening?”

  At first, I thought the Lord of Lies wasn’t going to tell me, but then he sighed. “They sold their souls, and the new owner isn’t letting them move onto the next life, so their souls are animating their rotting bodies. Since they can’t finish dying, they’ll linger until a practitioner or certain undead, such as vampires, convert them into true undead. It’s a rather nasty process, really. If they were following the rules, the souls would be retrieved from beyond death, thus converting the unoccupied body into an undead. Death has been temporarily circumvented.”

  I thought about it, humming at the idea of eternal unlife. It didn’t take me long to figure out I’d rather just die. “And after their bargained time is up? What will happen to them then?”

  “They’ll find out that souls aren’t so easy to return—and that there’s a reason I have the reputation I do. My bargains are always good. Misleading at times, yes, but I fulfill them to the letter. It’s child’s play to take a soul, but another matter entirely to restore it to its rightful place. No, those lost souls will remain lost, even if those behind Wishing Well have their way, which they won’t. They’re fools, and they’re not even clever enough to realize they’ve done nothing but secure their failure.”

  “Why do you say that? What are they after?”

  “For some reason, a group of them seem to think if they succeed, they’ll rise to become my heirs.” The exasperation in the devil’s voice made me laugh. “They’re idiots. I’m a true immortal; my portfolio will never change hands, but there’s a certain hierarchy among devils and demons. I’m at the top. As I’ve decided to pick an heir, some interpreted this to mean I’m entertaining applications. I’m not. So, they meddle in my affairs and annoy me without any hope of success.”

  Despite answering my questions, the devil left me wondering about far too many things. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be the Prince of Lies or whatever the hell they’d call someone destined to rule in Mephistopheles’s wake should someone—preferably me—wipe him from existence.

  The devil snickered, and I suspected the smug bastard overheard my thoughts.

  “Indeed,” he confirmed. “Go ahead, cupcake. Ask your questions before curiosity gets the better of you.”

  “Are the undead the reason you’re visiting Georgia?”

  “Not entirely, but in part.”

  “There’s a lot of dead people, Satin. I think they were murdered. Why? Why try to gather so many souls at once? What’s the benefit?”

  I wanted to ask why no one valued human life, but I already understood; greed and selfishness kept people apathetic to the plight of others—and greed and selfishness led straight to bad bargains with people wanting to go toe-to-toe with the devil himself.

  “Those are better questions. Souls are timeless, but they aren’t without limit. Magic can be harvested from a soul. Two souls can meld and make new life. It takes time for the seed of life to grow into a new soul, especially in humans. That’s why human infants are so fragile. Their bodies and their souls grow together. I’ll even give you a tip: the children who seem wise for their age are. They’re old souls given a new breath of life, wiped clean and given a chance to live again. They’re wise beyond their years because their souls have already grown.”

  “So that’s how it works for a reincarnated soul? Their souls are old but their bodies haven’t caught up yet?”

  “And now you’re asking even better questions. Excellent. Few can reincarnate a soul. I’m one of them—and the only one willing to bargain to make it happen. It’s otherwise the whim—or punishment—of God. Well, a god. Anubis can reincarnate a soul, as can Ma’at.”

  The fact that both other divines he mentioned were Egyptian intrigued me. “What about Bastet?”

  “She’s known to meddle from time to time. But, here’s the catch: a life for a life. That’s the price of a soul. That’s also why there aren’t any ways to truly bring back the dead. It’s difficult enough to replant a spent seed of life. A soul burdened with the weight of memories and years? No, no one can do it. Not me, not any of my angelic brethren, no one. It is the one law of the universe without exception. The only way to bring a soul back to life is to wipe it clean and begin anew.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  Satin drew in a breath and heaved a pained sigh, the sound so human it stunned me. “No matter how hard we divines try, the soul remembers with time, usually as dreams. I’ve learned to stop questioning it. The universe works in mysterious ways, but I have a few theories. My favorite is that no matter how thoroughly I bleach a soul so it can be reborn, it is the seed of life itself that remembers, and that’s a gift from the universe itself.”

  “What will happen to them because of their bargains with Wishing Well?”

  “They’ll die their true deaths or be locked in limbo. It’s best if they die, but I expect the worst. In limbo, they might have a chance to be given their soul’s earned rest, but I expect they’ll be extinguished beyond anyone’s salvation, not even mine. Ma’at won’t weigh them, the high heavens won’t even notice they never reached the gates for judgment, and while I’m aware of the passage and loss of souls, a bargain made is a bargain kept, and they’ll be beyond my reach.”

  “You can’t save them?”

  “No, cupcake. I can’t. Bargains are unbreakable oaths. But, I’ll leave you with this: there are ways a bargain can be manipulated, changed, and essentially broken. I can’t do that for Wishing Well’s victims. An enterprising individual might be able to do something, however. Should Wishing Well be found to violate their end of the bargain, there’s no oath that prevents me from taking over responsibility for a soul.”

  Interesting. “Let’s assume someone were to discover a violation of a Wishing Well bargain. What would happen?”

  “It would depend on the bargain made.”

  I never thought I’d be happy to have taken the time to talk with a corpse. “Let’s say someone became a mummy who agreed to work as security for a hundred years, with their soul sold for that period of time.”

  “A mummy? Someone’s meddling with dangerous magic. Mummies are no different from vampires. The soul is lost. That’s an invalid bargain. The original soul can’t be returned to its body. A new soul has taken its place.”

  “Could two souls occupy the same body
?”

  The devil hummed. “Occupy, yes. Control, no. One soul would be a prisoner. That’s a very dangerous loophole.”

  If Satin kept being so damned helpful, I might have to like the insufferable bastard. “Why is that dangerous?”

  Fingers brushing my arm startled me into squeaking and whirling, my eyes wide. Malcolm nodded behind me, and I realized I’d created a traffic jam near the doors thanks to my conversation with the devil. Blushing, I took my ticket from him, gave it to the doorman, and scampered inside and out of the way.

  The Lord of Lies waited until I found a safe spot before he cleared his throat to recapture my attention. “One body, one soul. That’s nature’s intent. Two souls within one body is unbalanced, chaos without order to control it—or give it purpose. Order without chaos is an equal crime in the eyes of the universe. That is why I am what I am, and that is why I rule over the universe’s many hells—and why the high heavens are in eternal conflict with me. Together, we are balance.”

  “What will happen to those souls?”

  “They’ll fight for dominance. If I were someone determined to attempt to circumvent the rules of reincarnation, I might try that method. It wouldn’t work, but few understand the universal laws.”

  I thought about it, determining he spoke the truth. While I thought I grasped the basic idea, I suspected I truly knew nothing about the universe and its many rules. “What would happen if I bargained for eternal life?”

  “That’s a secret. I’ll tell you this much, however. All things die eventually.”

  “Even you?”

  “It’s not called the end of days for nothing, cupcake.” The devil hung up, and for a while, I stared at the far wall without seeing anything at all.

  Malcolm’s hand clasped my wrist over the suppressor bracelet, giving a gentle tug. “Kanika? What was that all about?”

  Pinning my ears back, I handed Malcolm my phone for safe keeping. “Do you ever feel like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?”

  “Often. Why?”

  “I have a really bad feeling about Wishing Well and those people who died. It’s not right. I don’t know what to do about it, or even if I can or should do anything.”

  “Do you need to do anything about it?”

  I grimaced. “Am I obligated to? No. Should I? Yes. Will I? If I can.”

  “Why?”

  Why, indeed. I straightened, perked my ears forward, and met his gaze. “Because it’s the right thing to do. If my soul were stolen from me, I would hope someone would do the same for me.”

  “But they bargained willingly.”

  “If they were murdered for their soul, it’s no longer a fair bargain.”

  “That’s a fair point. So. Where do we begin?”

  “We?” I blurted.

  “We. It’s important to you, so it’s important to me, too.”

  We had lost our minds. There was no other explanation. I forced a grim smile. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Unlike any other party I’d ever attended, the guests had free rein to explore the museum without escort. Guards kept a careful watch at the doors and checked everyone entering or leaving the building, but they ignored the exhibits, trusting in little signs to keep people from breaking something. As warned, everyone showed up in costume, and the Stewart family proved easy to find; they wore kilts with matching patterns in blue, green, and brown.

  “You’re definitely the black sheep of the family, King Arthur,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  The Stewarts weren’t the only Scots in attendance, if the different colors and patterns of the kilts designated families like I thought they did.

  Malcolm nodded, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Caitlin’s family are the ones in the black, yellow, and red tartans. The women will likely be wearing period gowns in their clan colors.”

  I hoped something would go right this evening, although I had my doubts. “She’s probably here?”

  “Probably.” With a faraway look in his eyes, Malcolm turned from the gathering of Scottish men, facing me. I doubted he saw me at all. “She’ll probably bring her latest suitor of the hour for a chat to remind me why I shouldn’t have left.”

  “She sounds charming.” I flattened my ears, fighting to keep my tail still rather than lashing it. I gave her the record-holding spot for pissing me off in a hurry.

  “Sex is a weapon in her hands, and she knows how to use it.”

  I wasn’t above going home with random men, strutting my stuff to catch their attention, but I had standards. While I wouldn’t judge someone for exploring more than I liked, I also drew the line at doing more than showing off in tight clothes to stoke a man’s interest. Whatever Caitlin had done to Malcolm, I suspected it went beyond a threesome with two men and declining to participate, putting him in an awkward position.

  In his shoes, I’d be pissed, too.

  “She’s pissed at you because you have limits,” I speculated.

  “Right.”

  I marveled how one word could convey so much disgust, and I suspected he targeted himself as much as the woman who’d ruined him.

  Until he clammed up, I’d dig for answers to help me get a better feel for the woman—and best decide how to rub her nose in the mud. “Since you’re one of these picky Stewart men, it goes beyond someone doing something shitty to you. People believe she was—is—it for you?”

  “Correct.” Wrinkling his nose, Malcolm strode across the lobby, leaving me to follow, and halted at the main museum map. When I joined him, he pointed at the Hall of Ocean Life. The museum was much larger than I anticipated, and when we finally reached the exhibit, I gawked at the monstrous blue whale hanging from the ceiling.

  I spluttered, pointing at the model. “That’s crazy.”

  “Life-sized model of a female blue whale. Impressive, isn’t she?”

  “Very.” I sighed, wishing I had the sort of eloquence capable of making difficult questions come out better. “Do you still love her?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I believed him, if only because there was far too much anger and loathing in his tone and expression to have room for something as gentle as love. “So why do you let her bother you?”

  “She’s the heiress of a large clan, which would elevate my family’s standing. My father and uncle believe the curse will be broken if I marry out of the clan, preserving the bloodline even if I lose my clan name. The Stewart family would gain any of our sons, and the Murray family would keep the girls.”

  “What does that even accomplish? Wouldn’t that mean your family would end up in the same exact position? That’s not breaking the curse, that’s continuing it, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged, and I flinched at his worn, tired expression. “Desperate times, desperate measures. That’s how I was born—my father married into a different clan. Turns out there were complications. My mother can’t have another child.”

  “And your mother took the Stewart name?”

  “No. That’s why they think it’ll work if I marry Caitlin and take her name.”

  Not only had she pushed him on a sexual front, his own family wanted the pairing to break the curse? That they had pressured him despite knowing he needed someone loyal to him and only him turned my annoyance into full-fledged rage. “But you need someone who is loyal to you. You resent that she’s not, don’t you?”

  He sighed and nodded. “Exactly.”

  Between Caitlin and his family, I wanted to pick up a new side business. No one would notice a few disappearances in a family already slated to be wiped out due to a curse, would they? Maybe I could revisit my kidnapping scheme, claim Malcolm as mine, and run off with him. It would take work, but perhaps I could coerce the devil into a different wager to clear out the family curse—on Malcolm and his descendants, rather than the whole lot of them.

  Most predators didn’t bother me, but the more I heard about Caitlin and the other members of the Stewart family, the less I li
ked them. “They expect you to marry her, someone you dislike due to her behavior, which implies she’s prone to cheating, which means you’re being pressured into marrying someone you can’t love.”

  “Stewarts don’t marry for love. We marry for survival.”

  I wanted to punch whomever had fed him that line and made him believe it. My aunt had tried to sell me a similar bad deal, but I’d emerged aware of what she’d done.

  Judging from his tone, Malcolm believed if he didn’t, his family wouldn’t survive.

  “I see.”

  “It doesn’t help she views me as her rightful property.”

  No wonder he wanted some revenge. I had run away to avoid that fate. I spent a few minutes thinking through my options while staring up at the blue whale. One idea intrigued me, and I bet I could hit two birds with one stone. “I can’t promise you any revenge, but I might be able to redirect her attention for a while.”

  “How?”

  I smiled. If Caitlin wanted to treat men like property, I’d bring the cat fight to her. “When you spot her, let me know. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Hopefully, Malcolm would forgive me later. Even if he didn’t, I could his ire.

  “What are you planning?”

  “Trouble.” While I had no problems with carrying out my plans while dressed as Bastet, Cleopatra would suit my needs far better—and she had the right reputation for what I wanted to do. “I’ll need to be human for this. Know a quiet spot I can shift?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Follow me.”

  Malcolm guided me to an exhibit dedicated to gemstones, and it amazed me the other attendees ignored the treasures it held. Not even the guards cared about our presence in the room, and I found a shadowy corner to transform while he stood guard. I expected trouble with my clothes and shape; sometimes my magic wouldn’t change what I wore, leaving me in baggy clothing at risk of falling off.

  My unreliable magic decided to cooperate, and I became Cleopatra in truth. My hair, scraggly and abused from my burning, had grown out to adhere to ancient customs, decked out in the silver and gemstone trappings worthy of a pharaoh. My clothes fit better, and my magic stripped all the gold from my kalasiris, exchanging it for silver, too.