Chapter 3
JADE
The fuckwit who calls himself Sebastian Burns throws me a cocky look that’s dripping with undisguised need. I shiver despite myself. Everything he’s saying is perverse and creepy—and that surgical thing he’s had done to his tongue, it’s so ... wrong.
I have a million alarm bells ringing in my head and red flags waving in front of my eyes.
But part of me is curious about what this deal is.
Plus it might be a good anecdote to store up for when I’m out on a date with a loser guy to make me sound cool and interesting.
I’m in a safe space too. He can hardly assault me in a café in front of paying customers, can he?
‘Fine. You have five minutes. Then I’m definitely leaving,’ I mutter, reinstating myself back in the booth and placing my phone on the table. I set a timer so he knows I mean it.
Sebastian arches an eyebrow. ‘I don’t usually have to spell it out. Most people just ... know what’s involved.’
I fold my arms. ‘I’m not most people. I need to know all the ins and outs of this deal.’
Sebastian’s shoulders shake, and his lips press tightly together. I can tell he’s struggling not to yelp with laughter. But I don’t see the joke.
I rap my knuckles on the tabletop impatiently to get his attention. ‘Well? I’m waiting.’
He takes a deep breath and drags his large hand over his face in an attempt to recover his composure. ‘OK, Jade, since you need me to spell it out for you, this is the deal: have sex with me, and I’ll make your dreams come true.’ His tone is serious, but the corner of his mouth is twitching.
Oh, I get the joke now. Ins and outs. Haha, very funny.
But it doesn’t change the fact that this guy is still a fucking perv.
Make my dreams come true? What a load of crap.
I’m about to open my mouth and give him an earbashing about preying on innocent young women and tell him to fuck right off when I happen to glance at the card in my hand.
The embossed tag line—BETTER THE DEVIL YOU KNOW—jumps out at me.
Then things kind of ... start making sense.
I look at Sebastian. Really look at him.
His pitchfork tie (and underwear).
His obscenely handsome face.
His obviously fake online form.
His obsession with talking about his penis ...
My blood runs cold, then simmers in my veins.
‘I don’t ... I mean ... Are you seriously?’ I stammer.
He grins, seeing that I’ve finally cottoned on. ‘I can show you my horns, if that will convince you.’
I lick my dry lips nervously. Oh my god, he’s an actual devil. I know about this scenario from movies and books: a down-on-their-luck nobody sells their soul to the devil. The outcome is always the same: it never ends well for the nobody!
‘I ... I didn’t realise this was actually a thing in real life. Like people get visited by devils.’
‘Not just any devil either,’ Sebastian says proudly. ‘I’m top-level. I have the head honcho’s ear.’
‘Really?’ I say, a little astounded. ‘If you’re so high up in the realm of hell, then why on earth are you bothering with me in the Cat and for a second, I waver, unsure, his words needling at me. Inflaming my desperation.
‘Wait. Can I ... can I think about it?’
He looks at me, considering. ‘Fine,’ he says at last. ‘Since I’m feeling generous, you have six hours to think about it. Call the number on the card if you change your mind.’
The timer on my phone goes off in a sharp series of beeps, and I blink. One minute, I’m sitting in front of the Tube guy of my dreams; the next, I’m alone, facing an empty booth and clutching a devil’s business card.