The Price of Brimstone

by Allie Gail

  Reaching for the receipt printout, I glance his way once more and gasp out loud. What is this guy, a ninja? He is now standing in the middle of the parking lot, not thirty feet away. One hand tucked casually into a trouser pocket while the other balances the cigarette between spidery fingers. I can tell now that his slicked-back hair is brown, graying at the temples. And though I still can't see his eyes, I know that behind those sunglasses he is without a doubt staring right at me.

  Seeing him up close does nothing to reassure me.

  He looks like an emaciated version of that butler from The Addams Family. A walking skeleton in a neatly pressed suit. His face, what I can see of it, is a mask of papery skin stretched across a bony skull, the lean jawline sharpened by sunken cheeks. There is a deep cleft in his jutting chin, which might be ruggedly attractive on any other man, but on him merely serves to emphasize his ghoulish appearance.

  And that smile – or what could only pass for a smile in Hell – that wide, leering grin stretching slowly across his face...

  It's the stuff of nightmares.

  I shudder to think what might be hiding behind those dark shades. Not wanting to find out, I avert my gaze and shield myself in the car, locking all four doors as fast as humanly possible. Now I feel somewhat safer.

  Weirdo! Doesn't he know how creepy it is to stand around staring at girls like a serial killer in training? He just screams I've got rope and chloroform in the trunk and a collection of women's hair in the glove compartment. Ugh, my imagination is starting to run away with me. I should really lay off the horror movies.

  Pulling out of the convenience store, I take one last look in the rear view mirror just to see what the strange man is doing now.

  But he isn't there. Nothing's there.

  Nothing but a lit cigarette, sending up faint wisps of smoke from the asphalt.

  “You were playing us.”

  The accusation is the first thing that comes out of my mouth, and Loc doesn't even try to deny it. His eyes twinkle with a boyish mischief that's almost endearing. Damn that guy – it's so hard to stay mad at him.

  “Mm-hmm,” he drawls with a lazy smile.

  I don't even bother to pull up a chair. I have no intention of staying long. Just long enough to get to the bottom of this.

  “So the incantation didn't work.”

  “Obviously.” Noting the disgruntled look on my face, he adds, “Oh, don't be a sore loser, kitten. If it makes you feel any better, the spell in and of itself was legitimate. And it might have worked, on one less powerful than myself.”

  “Says the incapacitated guy in the basement.” I cross my arms and make a point of raising one eyebrow.

  True to form, he veers off in a completely different direction. “Why so late this evening?” he wants to know.

  “Max had the night off. He and Russ were up until almost one. Discussing what to do with you, if you must know.”

  “How resourceful, those two!” The chain rattles as he claps his hands together in delight. “Don't tell me. They're already scouring eBay for a solid gold blade at a discount price. What excuse will they give the priest, I wonder? Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”

  “That was just a bunch of malarkey, wasn't it?”

  “Well, naturally. Do you think I would really hand those two the key to my demise?”

  I don't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. My head votes in favor of disappointed, but the rest of me...

  “So you were lying about everything?”

  “More or less,” he shrugs.

  “Not one for giving straight answers, are you?”

  “Depends on who I'm talking to.”

  Well. That sure clears things up.

  Suddenly noticing that his eyes are wandering down the length of my body, I self-consciously tie off the blue kimono that's covering my cotton nightshirt. I didn't bother to get dressed this time. Not when I wasn't planning on being down here very long. I'm tired, monumentally frustrated, and weary of running on this hamster wheel that's going nowhere.

  “You know something?” I announce. “I'm sick of this. All these games, this pointless bullshit. You saying one thing and then something totally contradictory. Tell me something. Is there a method to your idiotic madness or do you just get a thrill out of wasting everyone's time?”

  He gives me a wounded lost-puppy look. “But, my dear. Time is all I have. Surely you can't fault me for seeking diversion where I can find it?”

  “Don't try and turn this around on me! If anyone's to blame here, it's you. How can you not see that? If you'd just been honest from the start...”

  “You're right,” he admits, much to my surprise. “You're absolutely right. I've wasted enough of your time. And I agree, we really should get on with it. This has all become tedious, hasn't it? Tell you what. I'm willing to cut you a deal. Special one-time-only offer, effective immediately. What do you say? Are you ready to negotiate?”

  Negotiate? What does he think this is, a used car lot? He must be out of his mind if he thinks I'm gullible enough to buy into his sales pitch. Whatever he's offering, I know the price, and nothing in the world could ever convince me to pay what he's asking. I can't believe he's even trying to go there.

  “Sorry, but I'm going to have to forgo your special one-time-only offer.” I lock eyes with him and try to make my voice sound as confident and serene as his. “I'm not interested in making deals. I already told you, my soul isn't for sale. Not at any price.”

  “I never said anything about your soul, love. Now did I?” Leaning forward, he rests his chin on clasped hands and gazes at me innocently. “Besides, I could've already had your brother's. He begged me to take it, you know. I know what he told you – that he dangled it in front of me as bait to get me here. But he's offered it several times since.”

  Okay, forget confident and serene. My mouth practically comes unhinged as I stare at him in horrified amazement.

  “What? You didn't know?” The saccharine sweetness is practically dripping from his tongue.

  “He...you're telling me he...” I can't even make myself spit out the words. Oh God, tell me he didn't do something so stupid!

  “Offered me his soul in exchange for that bubbleheaded girlfriend of his? Yes. Such a sweet, touching gesture, don't you think? Especially considering the source. I'm afraid I had to decline, though. Just wasn't worth it. His soul...well, to put it bluntly, it has very little market value. Not like his friend's.” Tapping a finger against his lips, he smiles shrewdly. “Not like yours.”

  My legs suddenly feel weak, and I seat myself on the edge of the table, trying to be casual about it so he doesn't see how much his revelation affected me. The rough-hewn wood snags at my kimono, but I don't care. I'm so relieved, I could cry.

  Dammit, Russell! You moron! How could you do something so reckless? So idiotic? Don't you have any more self-worth than that? Any concept of how long an eternity is?

  Releasing my breath slowly, I steady my voice before continuing. “I don't understand, then. If it isn't my soul you're after, then what is it you want?”

  The eyes burn through me like blue fire. “Not much. Just your innocence.”

  I give him a blank look.

  “In exchange for the safe return of your friends,” he prompts me.

  “I don't...uh, I'm not...” I'm completely tongue-tied. He can't possibly mean what I think he means! My innocence? Only one thing comes to mind, but surely it can't be that. I'm afraid to say anything. Just in case I'm wrong.

  But what else could he mean?

  “Your virginity, my dear,” he politely clarifies. “Your flower. Your maidenhead. Your sweet little untouched cherry. Any of this ringing a bell yet?”

  Holy mother of fuck – that is what he means!

  “You can't be serious!” While part of me is stunned and a little bit appalled, other, less loyal parts of me have come alive from the lewd suggestion.

  “Why not?” He drags an index finger across his lower lip, eyes
alight with speculative amusement. “Can you honestly tell me the scenario hasn't crossed your mind? And don't try and deny it, Jude. We both know the indecent thoughts you've been entertaining. Don't we? Late at night when you should be sleeping. When you're sliding your fingers underneath the covers, trying to chase away that pent-up tension that never seems to fully let go. When you come against the palm of your hand with your fingers buried deep inside you, every sweaty, panting orgasm nothing more than a temporary reprieve, because what you really want, what you really need, is the feel of a man inside you. Or...something more than a man, perhaps?”

  I want to swallow, but my mouth has gone bone dry.

  “You have a...a vivid imagination.” The words come out sounding way huskier than I intended.

  “Let's talk business.” Now he's all professional efficiency. His mood swings are making my head spin. “What I'm putting on the table is the two of your friends, alive and unharmed, returned to you within twenty-four hours of the closing of our deal. All I'm asking in return is the opportunity to provide you with unlimited pleasure. Now I'm no financial adviser, but I can't imagine anyone has ever scored better dividends than that.”

  I stare at him mutely, unable to think properly.

  “I'll even offer you a little incentive. Something to sweeten the pot. How about I give you my solemn word that brother dearest will come to no harm?”

  “You'll promise not to hurt him?” In spite of myself, I have to say I'm intrigued. And admittedly there's a lot at stake here. “What about Max? You didn't mention him.”

  He waves an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, him too.”

  “And none of your friends will show up to harass them either, right?”

  “You have my word.”

  I chew on my lip, weighing his indecent proposal. I can't believe I'm actually considering this! But really, what's to think about? It seems such a small price to pay to ensure the safety of those I care about.

  “Is there a catch?” I ask, ever suspicious.

  “A catch?”

  “You know, like one of those monkey's paw kind of deals. Where it all goes south and everything ends up worse than before.”

  “I've spelled out the terms as plainly as I know how. I have no hidden agenda.”

  “All you want is to get laid?” I wrinkle my nose, still perplexed. “Well, pardon my skepticism, but that right there is why I'm looking for the catch. Nothing about that even starts to make sense. It isn't like sex would be that hard to come by or anything.”

  He chuckles softly at my unintentional pun.

  My cheeks flush warm. “Just sayin'...you could pretty much have your pick of girls.”

  “But they wouldn't be you, now would they?”

  “And what's so special about me?”

  “I find you...compelling.”

  I'm not sure whether to be flattered or completely freaked out. “See – what does that even mean?”

  “Enthralling, captivating, irresistible...”

  “I know what the word means! I just don't understand the context in correlation to me.”

  Still gazing at me in that intense way of his, he lowers his voice to a seductive murmur. “Isn't it enough just to know that I want you?”

  I twist my hands in my lap, staring down at them while trying to suppress a shiver. This is far beyond anything I ever anticipated. An illicit affair with a demon? The notion is terrifying and rightly so, but there is also a part of me, some wicked, clandestine rebel, that aches to dip her toes into his darkness. To sample a taste of the forbidden. This, in spite of the undeniable fact that it can't end well. Faustian bargains never do.

  What would Russ say? What would your parents, God rest their souls, say?

  In the end, it doesn't matter. I can't allow it to matter. The solution to all our problems is right in front of me, offered up on a silver platter, and I'd be a fool to say no.

  And a fool to say yes.

  It's a catch-22 no matter how you spin it.

  I look up from my lap. “I'd like to add an addendum, if I may.”

  “I'm already providing you with far more than I rightfully should. What else can you possibly want?”

  “The man who was wrongfully convicted of murdering my parents. Something needs to be done to correct that situation. I'm not sure what, but...”

  “You wish to see Claude Gilbert freed from prison?”

  “Is that possible?”

  He tilts his head to one side while considering my counteroffer. I would have accepted anyway, but I figure why not try and get the most out of this. It may be the only chance I ever get to right this particular wrong.

  “Yes...yes, it is possible,” he reluctantly concedes. “Very well, then. Done. But I'll have you know you drive a hard bargain, Judith Sterling. A very...hard...bargain.”

  The emphasis he places on the word hard has my insides quivering.

  I wet my lips nervously. “When...ah...so how do we do this?”

  “First I'll need the key.”

  For a moment I'm not sure what he means. “What key?”

  “The key that you stole from your brother.”

  I sure would like to know how he seems so aware of everything that goes on in this house.

  “What do you need that for? It won't do you any good,” I point out. “The lock's on the other side of the door.”

  “A mere token to seal the deal. That's all. Now, if you please.” Stretching out his manacled wrists, he turns one hand palm up and waits expectantly.

  Without a word, I reach into the breast pocket of my nightshirt and scoop out the small brass key. As I lay it in his hand, his fingers curl around mine, and the temperature in the cold, dank basement seems to elevate by at least ten degrees.

  “Then it's settled?” I practically whisper.

  He smiles without saying anything, and I suddenly get the panicky feeling that this guy is going to eat me alive. Instinctively, I pull my hand away from his. Almost immediately, the chill of the room sets back in.

  “I suppose you'll need me to do something about that.” My eyes raise to the pentacle on the ceiling. The shackles he'll have to cope with himself – I have no idea where Russ keeps the keys to those.

  He shakes his head slowly, never taking his eyes off me. “That won't be necessary. Our arrangement has already been finalized. All that's left is for you to keep up your end of the bargain.”

  “And you? How are you going to keep up your end?” I don't know how he intends to follow through with all he's promised if he's still chained up down here, helpless.

  “Leave that to me.”

  I watch his hand as he plays with the key, flipping it over and over between his thumb and two fingers. The movement is hypnotic.

  “So what happens next?” I'm still uncertain as to exactly what the sequence of events is supposed to be here.

  “Hmm. Well...you could always loosen up that pretty silk robe and give me a sneak preview of what's to come.” Smirking, he gives me a lazy wink. “Or who's to come first.”

  I roll my eyes, though in all honesty I couldn't say whether he's teasing or whether that was an actual suggestion. “Yeah. I don't think so.”

  “No need to play hard to get, love. In case I didn't already make it abundantly clear, I'm kind of a sure thing.”

  He's teasing, I decide. At least, I think he is. “I'm serious. You have to give me some idea what the game plan is here. Like, what kind of time frame are we looking at? You said you'd have them back within twenty-four hours, right?”

  “Glad to see you were paying attention. I assume, however, that what you're really contriving to find out is...when do I plan to collect?”

  Flushing, I glance at him and then quickly look away. Why does he have to keep staring at me that way? So attentively...like he's trying to decide what to do with me next. It's unnerving as hell. Then again, so is basically everything he says or does.

  “I just need to know what you want me to do,” I tell him. Is he waiting
for me to put out first, before he holds up his end of the bargain? That doesn't seem fair. If that's what he thinks, I'm going to tell him I didn't agree to those terms. I want solid proof that Skylar and Owen are safe before I follow through. Anyway, surely he doesn't expect us to do the deed here!

  Do the deed. Oh my God, what am I, twelve? This is what I get for being so picky. I never should've held out this long. What was I waiting for? For Max Fallon to suddenly wake up and notice me? Ha! I should've just given it up to what's-his-face on prom night when I had the chance. Fuck me running, I can't even think straight...Teagan. Yeah, I should've just given it up to Teagan Chambers, and then I wouldn't be in this position now, would I?

  Although, I don't think I could've gone through with it. Especially after he got totally wasted and somehow thought it was the funniest thing ever to keep honking my boobs. He thought he was hilarious. He was the only one.

  Loc taps the key against the table several times before finally pushing it aside. “You really do prefer things all cataloged down to the letter, don't you?”

  “So how is that a bad thing?” I lift my chin stubbornly. “You're so vague, always speaking in riddles or innuendos. When you're not changing the subject altogether. I'm a control freak, I admit it. I like to know where I stand so I can plan accordingly. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “No, I don't suppose there is.” His faint smile is hard to interpret. “Very well, then. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to perform the following tasks in the order imposed. Number one, making as little noise as possible, I'd like for you to break one of the basement windows. Mind you don't cut yourself. Number two, I want you to run along up to your room and tuck yourself into bed. Number three, get a good night's sleep. You look as if you can barely keep your eyes open. Was that clear and concise enough? I'd create a flowchart for you, but I'm afraid I don't have a tablet available.”

  My gaze travels up to the grimy, oblong panes that never did allow much in the way of light. They're old, fixed inserts that don't open, so the glass would have to be broken for anything to get in or out. But I still don't see the point. It's not as if he could fit through. A very small child could, maybe, but even that would be a tight squeeze.