“I tried,” she said, rising and perching her purse strap on her shoulder.
“Yes. Yes, you did. And a noble effort it was.” I gestured toward the door, hoping she’d take the hint. “I’m not sure what all this is about, anyway. It’s not like we could really go into counseling. He’s leaving soon for the open sea.”
She turned back to me, her face full of surprise. She blinked and I felt an understanding wash over her; then she plastered on a fake smile, one full of pity with a heaving sprinkling of contempt. One I had seen far too many times in my twenty-seven years. “And here I thought you could detect lies.”
She strode to the door and opened it before I could stop her. “Wait. What lies?”
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, turning the tables, reveling in the power she’d just acquired. “When you can grow up and take a little of the responsibility for our failed relationship, I’ll tell you what your father’s really up to.”
Without another word, she walked out, leaving me speechless.
* * *
What my father was really up to? What did she mean by that? Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to investigate now, but Uncle Bob and I were going to have a long talk the minute I was finished with Mr. Joyce. In fact, that would be my excuse to get him to go over to my apartment that evening. Nothing like killing two birds with one stone. But that sounded so bad. What did those poor birds do to anyone? I decided to change that particular cliché to “Nothing like killing two bad guys with one bullet.” Better. Maybe it would catch on, become accepted worldwide. A girl could dream.
Mr. Joyce was already standing, waiting his turn with the impatience of a kindergartner waiting for his afternoon snack.
“Come on in,” I said to him, gesturing to the chair across from my desk as I headed to the Bunn to complete my promise to Cookie. She’d need CPR if I didn’t get her a cup soon. “So, what can I help you with?”
I poured Cookie’s cup, knowing full well she was interrupting my “meeting” with Denise only to save me from her. I adored that woman. Cookie! Not Denise. After taking the coffee to her and handing her the box of wafers with a wink, I started to close the door between our offices as she took a sip of the piping fresh brew. She rolled her eyes until I saw only white. It was kind of creepy. We were kindred spirits to the core.
“It’s a little embarrassing,” Mr. Joyce said after I offered him a cup, poured my own, then sat behind my desk. Reyes had disappeared as he was wont to do once any immediate danger was dispelled.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” I felt the agitation he was sporting externally, but I also felt anxiety and extreme fear. Like gut-wrenching fear.
“Um, okay.” He twisted the baseball cap in his hands before pinning me with his gaze, taking a deep breath, and blurting out, “I sold my soul to the devil and I need you to get it back for me.”
That was new.
I blinked a few times, took a slow sip, then asked, “Did it fetch a good price?”
“What?” he asked, surprised by my reaction.
“Your soul. What’d you get for it?”
He bit down and charged forward. “Ms. Davidson, I’m not kidding.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ve talked to a few—” He glanced around, worried we’d be overheard. “—individuals in your field, and they all recommended I hire you. Said if anyone could get it back, you could.”
“Really? And what kind of individuals are in my field?”
“You know,” he said, setting his ball cap on my desk and easing forward to whisper. “The supernatural kind.”
“Ah. Right. Because they’re on every street corner. So, this demon you sold your soul to—”
“Devil,” he corrected, punching the air with an index finger. “He was the devil.”
“Okay, first of all, the devil is never on this plane this time of year, so if the guy who bought your soul says he’s the boss man himself, he’s lying.”
“Seriously?” he asked, surprised. “Well, maybe he didn’t say he was the devil, but he had powers, you know? He had an intensity I felt every time he looked at me, like the weight of it alone could crush me. And he has my soul. It’s gone. I can’t feel it anymore.” He patted his clothes as though searching for his wallet.
Wonderful. Mr. Joyce was crazy. I took out a pen and pad. “Okay, can you describe your soul in detail? I’ll put out a BOLO.”
He leaned back, annoyed with me. It happened. “I thought that you of all people would understand.”
I put down my pen. “Why me of all people?”
“I know what you are,” he said. “He told me.”
“The devil told you?”
“No, the guy.” He raked a hand through his hair. “The guy who took my soul. Maybe he just took it for the devil. I don’t know.”
As entertaining as this was, I needed to call Uncle Bob and ask him what was going on with my dad. No way did I call Dad. If he didn’t want me to know something, I damned sure didn’t know.
“Okay, well, thanks for coming in, Mr. Joyce, but—”
“Hedeshi!” he shouted, remembering a name. A name that I knew well.
“Hedeshi is dead,” I said, wondering how he knew the name of the demon sent to kill me. Thankfully, I had the son of Satan and a guardian departed Rottweiler named Artemis backing me up, or I wouldn’t have been there at all.
“Right, he told me about Hedeshi. Said he was dead. During the card game, he’d—”
“Card game?”
“The poker game,” he said, growing more agitated by the second. “The one where I lost my soul.”
I clasped my fingers together. “Let me get this straight. You gambled your soul away?”
“Well … no. Not exactly. I needed money. He knew it. Used it against me.” Shame washed over him in one bright-hot wave. “It was for a good cause. I needed money and he had the highest game in town, so I took a chance. I hocked everything we had just to get a seat at the table, and then I lost every penny.” He scrubbed his forehead, embarrassed. “When he saw how distressed I was, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I said yes. I sold him my soul.”
“Of course you did. Hedeshi,” I reminded him.
He squinted his eyes, trying to remember. “The guy, the dealer, said there was a grim reaper in town wreaking all kinds of havoc on his brethren. Said you managed to kill one of the top generals from hell, a man named Hedeshi.”
How on earth did some dealer from an illicit card game know that? “And how do you know I’m this grim reaper?”
“Because everyone told me,” he said, his voice getting louder. “Look, can you just go talk to this guy? Just get it back? I’ll pay you.”
“I thought you didn’t have any money. That was why you were at the card game in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, I got some. I got a lot. Selling one’s soul is very profitable.” He bowed his head, and the heartache that spread through him stung the backs of my eyes. “Turns out even money can’t cure cancer.”
Son of a bitch. The big C. My most hated enemy.
“Look, I just need my soul. He can have everything back. I just need my soul to be with her. I promised.”
So, a woman he loved had died, and now he wanted his soul back so he could be with her. That was also new.
“You’re the only one who’s ever stood up to one of these guys. No one else will even try.”
“There’s a good reason for that. They’re rather deadly.”
“I’ll do anything. You can have it all. The money. The cars. Everything. My husband and I are devastated.”
And once again, I was taken aback. Just when I thought I knew what was going on. “Your husband?”
“Yes. Paul. We got married in Massachusetts the minute they legalized it.”
“Then who is this ‘she’ you promised to spend eternity with?”
The huge tears shimmering in his eyes as he looked up at me stole my breath and my heart in
the same moment. “Our daughter. She was only three when she passed away from neuroblastoma. I got her the best medical care money could buy, but it made no difference.” He took out his wallet and retrieved a picture out of it. Two actually. Handing them to me, he asked, “Do you know what it’s like watching a three-year-old girl die of cancer? She was so brave. She only wanted one thing—our promise that we’d be with her in heaven someday.” His voice broke as I studied the pictures. A gorgeous girl with blond ringlets and huge blue eyes graced the first one. The second one had been taken after a few rounds of chemo, her bald head, no less beautiful, shining in the sun as she flew down a slide, her smile as wide as the New Mexico sky. “We both promised her we’d see her again. Paul doesn’t know what I did for all of this. He doesn’t know I can’t keep our promise.”
I wasn’t sure if it was his sorrow or mine that formed a lump the size of a softball in my throat. Either way, I couldn’t stop the emergence of tears as I gazed at the angel in her fathers’ arms. “When did she pass?” I managed to ask, my chest tightening.
“Yesterday.” And with that, he collapsed into a mass of tears, sobbing into his hands uncontrollably. I rounded the desk, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and sobbed with him. This was the part I didn’t handle well. The people-left-behind part. Their sorrow was like a boulder on my chest.
I felt Reyes, felt his heat before the door opened and he stepped inside. He didn’t interrupt. He stood back and watched over me as I let the pain of death crush me into dust.
4
My boyfriend called me a stalker.
Well, he’s not actually my boyfriend …
—STATUS UPDATE
I led Mr. Joyce to the door and promised I’d do whatever I could. I still had no idea if he was crazy or not, but I planned to find out.
“What have we got?” Cookie asked, her voice soft.
“We have a client who sold his soul to the devil.”
“Another one?”
She knew just what to say. A little embarrassed, I graced her with the best smile I could conjure under the circumstances. “Exactly. When will these guys ever learn?” I looked over at Reyes, who’d stood watch the whole time. I was more than a little embarrassed that he’d witnessed my breakdown. “Is that even possible?”
“It’s possible,” he said. I felt genuine regret emanating off him.
“Then I have a card game to go to.”
He pushed off the wall and followed me as I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. “You’re not serious.”
I stopped and leveled a determined gaze on him. “I’m as serious as neuroblastoma.”
He bit back a reply, knowing it would do him no good. He was learning.
I paused at Cookie’s desk. “You’re not wearing that tonight, are you?”
“What’s wrong with this?”
“Nothing. If you’re running away to join the circus.”
She gasped, then narrowed her lids threateningly. “I should have locked you in your office with your stepmother instead of using these ridiculous intercoms you insisted on buying at that horrid estate sale and coming to your rescue.”
It was my turn to gasp. I also jutted out my index finger accusingly for dramatic flair. “That estate sale rocked. Who doesn’t love a good taxidermist’s collection?”
She shivered at the reminder.
“And those intercoms aren’t half as ridiculous as that outfit.”
Her expression hardened and I felt the weight of sorrow lift. God bless her. I winked knowingly then strode out of the office to prepare for tonight.
But first, Uncle Bob.
* * *
I accepted a card that read LIVE FREE OR DIE from a homeless man with leathery skin and several missing teeth. In return, I gave him what little change I had in my pocket as I walked across the parking lot to my apartment building. And it was literally my apartment building. Reyes had bought it for me. I had no idea what to do with it, but I loved that it was mine.
“You aren’t going to that game,” Reyes said as he stalked behind me.
“Sure am.”
Heat from his anger rose around me. A lot of heat.
I whirled around to face him. “What is the problem?”
He kept coming until he was only inches away from me. “You. It’s like you search out the worst, most dangerous situations to go into, then rush to get there without a second thought.”
“I have second thoughts,” I said, and turned to continue my journey to the building. “And sometimes I even have third and fourth thoughts, too.”
He grabbed my arm before I’d taken two steps. “This isn’t funny.”
I made a pointed effort to look down at his hand, the one holding my arm, before refocusing on his face again. “No, it isn’t.”
He let go of my arm. “You can’t save every desperate soul out there, Dutch.” When I started toward the building again, he stepped in my path. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you try, and I’ll be stuck here alone, all because I’m in love with a bleeding heart who’d rather risk her life for strangers than listen to anything I have to say.”
I shifted my weight to one leg, jutting out a hip. “You’re in love with me?”
He stepped close again and rested a hand on my jutting hip. “You know I am.”
“I know. But the heat of your anger is going to burn you alive.”
He ran his tongue along his lower lip as he studied me. “Maybe I have a fever.”
Suddenly worried, I reached up and felt his forehead. Blisteringly hot, but when wasn’t he?
He tested his forehead himself. “See? I probably need a sponge bath,” he said, turning playful.
As sexy as that lopsided grin of his was, I was starting to get worried. I felt his forehead again. “Do you really have a fever?”
“Ever since the first time I saw you.”
I couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Seriously, Reyes. Are you feeling bad?”
“Only when you’re not near me.”
“Do you get sick?”
“Every time we’re apart.”
This was getting me exactly nowhere. He was deflecting on purpose. “Fine. But I’m going to that card game. I totally have a plan,” I said, sidestepping past him.
“Because your plans always work so well.” He followed me inside and up the stairs.
“That’s not fair.”
“Dutch, I’m not kidding. Dealers are not what you think.”
“Dealers?” I stopped on the stairs and gaped at him. “You knew about him? You knew he was here?”
“No, not exactly, but I do know they exist. And if he really is a Dealer, he’s very, very clever. He could convince a mother to sell her children into slavery for a dime.”
“I can’t believe a being like that actually exists. So it really is possible to sell your soul to the devil?”
He nodded. “And you don’t even have to go to the crossroads to do it.”
“Holy cow. How do I not know these things?” I continued up the stairs while foraging in my bag for my keys.
“It’s not really what you think,” Reyes added. “There’s a lot you don’t know, and there’s a lot you don’t need to know, like how to handle a Dealer.”
“So, what are they, exactly?”
“They are demons. The Fallen.”
“Like Hedeshi?”
“Very much like Hedeshi, only they’ve gone rogue.”
“Rogue?” I stopped on the landing. “What does that mean?”
“It means they’re demons who’ve escaped from hell and are living on earth as humans. They owe no allegiance to my father. They simply live here, feeding off the souls of others.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Wish I could, but they have to eat just like you and I do.”
“You mean to tell me souls are their sustenance?”
“Exactly, but they can only get a soul if the donor willingly gives it up.”
�
��Why would someone willingly give up their soul?”
He shrugged. “Power. Money. Health.”
“I just— I’m so floored by this.” I slid my key into the lock, but stopped again, trying to absorb this new turn of events. “Is there a contract? Like in the movies?”
“No. No contract. That’s Hollywood’s version of a Dealer. In real life, they are much cleverer than that.”
“Then how is the bargain sealed?”
“Upon the human’s word, the Dealer marks the soul. Then, when he’s hungry, he calls it forth. Believe it or not, a person can live without their soul. Not very long, but it can be done.”
“What about Mr. Joyce? Did he still have his soul?”
“No. He was right. His soul was gone and probably has been for at least a couple of months. He won’t last much longer. He’s been so absorbed in his daughter that he didn’t realize what he was feeling was the illness that happens when the soul is gone. The body withers away.”
Damn. I hated to hear that. “Okay, answer me this: Is it possible to get one back after the demon has fed off it?”
“It depends on how long he’s had it, if it still has any energy left. They can live off one soul for months if they have to.” He stepped closer to emphasize his next point. “And yours,” he said, his tone warning, “he could live off for hundreds of years. A millennium, even. Getting your soul would be like winning the lottery of feasts, which is why you aren’t going anywhere near him. He has to trick you out of it, and trust me, a Dealer can do exactly that. They are often called Tricksters in your mythology for good reason.”
“Thanks for your faith in me.”
“Dutch, it’s not my lack of faith in you. It’s my certainty that you would do anything to get this man’s soul back. I’ve seen it a hundred times. You risk everything, every part of yourself, for complete strangers. It’s … disturbing.”
He had a point.
I opened my door and stepped in. “Again, I ask, how do I not know these things?”
Reyes crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against my doorframe as I tossed my bag onto my kitchen table and headed for Mr. Coffee. “Because you’re you,” he said, teasing me.
Sixth Grave on the Edge Page 4