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“Why do we need you?” I asked the Dealer, ignoring Mr. Grumpy Britches.
His intense gaze landed on me again, but the moment it did, Reyes growled. He looked back at him before answering. “Because there’s only one way to beat your father, and she holds the key.” He gestured to me with a nod of his head. “If she doesn’t live through this, Earth will become a very dark place.”
“Live through what?” I asked, but the Dealer didn’t look at me that time.
He kept a watchful eye on the predator. The more immediate danger. “The Twelve have escaped,” he said to Reyes, and though I had no idea who or what the Twelve were, Reyes seemed to have no trouble figuring it out.
His expression changed to one of astonishment. It wasn’t easy to astonish him.
“If they get to her,” he started, but Reyes recovered and interrupted before he could finish, much to my chagrin.
“They won’t.”
“They will if you don’t keep a very close eye on her. She gets into enough trouble without the Twelve making an appearance. They will rip her apart and make you watch while they do it.”
Reyes bit down so hard, I could hear his teeth grind. “They’ll try.”
“You need my help, and you know it.”
“This is like the prophecies Garrett found,” I told Reyes, patting his arm, trying to convince him to listen. “You and I are the key, remember?” I looked back at the Dealer, who didn’t dare meet my eyes.
But before I could question him any further, Reyes asked, “And why would you help us?”
“Why else? I want him dead as much as you do.” He leaned in, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “Even more so, I’d wager, and if you want to win this thing, you’ll listen to what I have to say. There’s only one way to bring him down. We can’t risk the reaper because of your pride.”
I started thinking back to when I’d first arrived at the game tonight. The Dealer didn’t seem the least bit surprised when I walked in. Surely he knew who I was the moment I showed up, like he was expecting me.
“Why am I here?” I asked him. “Did you arrange this?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I simply encouraged Mr. Joyce to seek you out through a few co
I released Zeus, pulling out the knife and holding it toward him as steady as I could. Which wasn’t very steady. I was shaking. And I had to pee.
“You’re still on my turf, stealing the souls of good people. And you stole that body you’re living in.”
“I didn’t steal anything. I was born on Earth, just like the prince.”
I gaped at Reyes. “He can do that?”
After a long hesitation, he nodded. “It’s a complicated process, but yes.”
“Wow, okay, but you’ve still stolen souls.”
He shrugged helplessly. “Man ca
“Not high enough.”
“You forget, they come to me and they are getting what they want in return. It’s a win–win.” When I only glared, he added, “I am not your enemy. We have a similar agenda.”
“I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him.”
He threw his head back and laughed, and I sensed a genuine enjoyment in his reaction, as though I were entertaining to him like a fly might be to a spider. So that was a
“And then,” I continued, letting my mouth lift into a patient smile, “I’m going to take this dagger, push it into your heart, and watch you die.”
“Well, then, that’s not a very good incentive for me to do what you want, now, is it?”
“You need to be brought down. I’m sorry, but it has to be done.”
“I believe you,” he said, surprised. “I think you are sorry, even if just barely. What if I only bargained for the souls of bad people? You know, murderers and child molesters and people who cut in line at the theater snack counter.”
There was a thought I could live with. Well, not the snack-counter thing, but … “You could be like the demonic version of Dexter.”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“But how many have you taken in the past? How many good souls do you have to compensate for?”
He raised a helpless hand. “I’ve been on this plane in human form for more than two centuries,” he said, surprising me to my core. “If I had to guess, I’d say more than a few. Surely you won’t hold my past indiscretions against me.”
I stepped closer and his chin went up. He watched Zeus carefully, like one would watch a venomous snake poised to strike. “No more,” I said, my tone low and even. “Never again. And I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him. I don’t care what kind of bargain he made, I want it canceled.”
“As you wish, but I want something in return.”
“Do not bargain with him,” Reyes said.
Of course, I ignored him. “What?”
He gestured toward Zeus with a congenial nod of his top hat. “The dagger.”
I snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding. The only way you’re getting this knife is when its blade slides into your chest.”
He shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Then how about you let me help you with this little Twelve problem, and it’s all his.”
“You can do that?”
“Dutch,” Reyes said, but I shushed him with an index finger. A very powerful index finger, it would seem, because he let me continue.
“You can return it to him?” I asked. “Good as new?”
The Dealer winced. “
New
is a strong word, but once it’s back in place, how it fares is up to him.”
I raised the knife again, but he stood his ground, albeit warily. “And no more, right?”
“No more, right. Only bad people.”
“No snack-counter line-cutters, either. They have to genuinely be bad, as in harmful to the human race.”
“Not a problem. I know a rapist down the street. I can live off him for weeks.”
“And I want Joyce’s soul returned immediately.”
He snorted. “Do you think me a fool?”
“I think you’re all kinds of a fool. There’s no telling when, or even if, these twelve jokers will show up.”
“Clearly, you have trust issues. I’ll give him back his soul when the favor is returned.”
“I’m returning it now by not burying this blade in your chest.”
He paused in thought, but only for a split second before saying, “You think that a favor?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I deflected. “I think I’m bored. Leave Mr. Joyce’s soul alone.”
With that, I turned and walked out, completely unsure if I’d accomplished anything at all.
7
I lost my virginity,
but I still have the box it came in.
—T-SHIRT
Though I couldn’t be 100 percent certain, I got the distinct feeling Reyes was angry. He sat in Misery, his back rigid, his gaze averted, his jaw set to the consistency of marble. And he was still incorporeal. He could have vanished but didn’t. Did he want me to know how angry he was, or was he worried about this Twelve-pack? When he cast me a glare from underneath his lashes as we headed home, I glared right back.
“What?” I asked, my adrenaline level still high. My disbelief even higher. He wasn’t worried about the Twelve. He was angry with me. Me! What had I done now?
He shook his head and returned his attention starboard. When he spoke, his voice was low, calculated. “You did exactly what I said you would.”
“What? I have my soul. And my dignity. He didn’t get either one.”
“That’s debatable. You made a deal with him.”
“For the survival of humankind,” I said defensively. “Or something like that. Who are the Twelve?”
It took him a while to answer. Brooding did that. Took its time. Meandered. Wandered around, oblivious of the needs and impatience of others. It was kind of like a small child that way. Just when I was about to fill the uncomfortable void of silence with the theme song from