6 THE DEVIL’S IN THE DETAILS
THE DEVIL’S IN THE DETAILS
S UNSHINE SPENT THE REST OF THE NIGHT—THE ENTIRE night—negotiating the finer terms of her “deal with a devil.” Dawn had begun to lighten the sky, a pink glow appearing on the horizon between the buildings.
She had come into this situation prepared, but it still surprised her how precisely every detail had to be examined before Raum would agree to anything.
Human lawyers ought to try drafting a contract with a demon. It would be the ultimate test of their abilities.
But even most humans knew better than to make such bargains.
In this case, however, she knew it was her best option.
She could not traipse into Hell all by her lonesome, her angelic aura like a beacon of purity amid the tarnished landscape.
She wouldn’t last five minutes before she was discovered, and then …
Well, she already knew what demons did with an angel at their mercy.
“And what happens in the event of my death?” Raum asked. “If I’m killed while working for you, the contract should hold.”
He currently sat cross-legged on the floor in the center of the sigil. During their negotiations, he alternated between his current pose and stretching his legs out while leaning back on his hands. Despite the circumstance, he managed to look relaxed.
Sunshine, on the other hand, sat on a chair from the dining table and kept shifting from cheek to cheek. After so many hours, her rear end was quite numb.
“You will not die completing this task,” she felt the need to say, disturbed at the thought. “I assure you, I want assistance, not sacrifice.”
Raum shrugged. “Death is always a possibility. And if it occurs, or if I’m permanently compromised in some way, you have to keep up your end of the deal.”
How casually he discussed his possible demise. Was that what life was like for a demon in Hell? Constantly surrounded by violence and suffering? It seemed a dark and miserable existence.
But she had to remain cold. Her eyes narrowed. “Why should I owe your family protection if you’re incapable of fulfilling your end?”
“Because I’d only be killed because of our agreement. Sacrifice deserves recompense.”
She couldn’t argue against that, nor could she reveal how the thought of it horrified her. “Fine. But you can’t seek a way to compromise yourself as a means of escaping your duty.”
He cocked a brow. “I agree not to attempt suicide over one measly bargain with an angel.”
“Good.”
She studied him. There was a glint in his golden eyes that made her suspicious. He wasn’t cooperative—in fact, he was quite sullen and argumentative—but she had to wonder if he hadn’t formed some hidden plan of his own for how to make this arrangement benefit him.
Honestly, she’d be disappointed if he hadn’t. It was what any smart person forced into a corner would do. But it meant she needed to be careful in her negotiating.
“If at any time we want to change the conditions of the contract,” he said, “we can.”
She shifted on her torturous chair. “Why would we want to do that?”
“Dunno. I’m just covering all the bases.”
“Fine. Agreed. If we both agree to amend the terms of the bargain, we may, so long as there is no coercion or manipulation involved.”
“I’ll need to visit my brothers before we go to Hell.”
“Absolutely not.” She couldn’t risk the slightest chance of him betraying her plans.
“They’ll get suspicious if I suddenly disappear.”
“Call them and tell them you’re going away for a time.”
His eyes narrowed. “They won’t believe that if they don’t see me for themselves.”
“Then tell them you met a human woman at the nightclub, and you want to enjoy her company undisturbed.”
His mouth pressed into a line, and the loathing that burned in his eyes would have given her pause had he not been safely trapped in the sigil. It seemed he didn’t like being reminded of what had transpired between them last night.
That was fine. Neither did she.
Yet she couldn’t resist needling him. “You can tell them you’ll tire of her in a week or so as you do with all the women you’re with, and then you’ll return.” There was a bite to her words now, no matter how she tried to repress it.
She couldn’t help but wonder how many human women he’d danced with as he had with her. How many women had he smiled at when he asked for their name? How many women’s eyes had he stared into as he promised them a night of his undivided attention, focused solely on delivering their pleasure?
Why did it matter? It shouldn’t. There was no reason she should care the slightest. She pushed the thoughts and bitterness away.
“Fine,” Raum said, lip curling. “I’ll tell them that. In person. They won’t believe me otherwise.” The glare he aimed at her reminded her that promises of pleasure were far from his mind now.
Good. She had no need of them.
“Fine,” she replied.
They glared at each other.
“I want you to agree to protect Eva and my brothers in the future, after the contract is complete and you get your book.”
She recoiled. “I will not. I’ve already sworn not to reveal your whereabouts, which is enough to have me cast out of Heaven if I were discovered. The risk is too high.”
A part of her felt guilty about what she was doing. Associations with demons were expressly forbidden, and the mere thought of it ought to have horrified her. But here she was, having captured one and forced him into her service.
But once she’d learned that the grimoire had been taken to Hell, her blood had gone cold at the thought of navigating the underworld by herself.
The Dominations had to know that she’d have to face her biggest fear and return to the place of her nightmares. Was that why they considered this worthy of her final test before reascension?
“All you’ve given me is a promise not to kill me and my family,” Raum said. “I get nothing else out of this.”
“Continuation of life is the ultimate goal of all beings.”
“I think you underestimate how little I give a fuck.”
She gritted her teeth. No one was dying if she had anything to say about it, so there was no point discussing this. “I am soon to be re-elevated to the rank of Principality. I cannot extend protection duties to rogue demons and half-angel abominations. It could jeopardize my position.”
“You’ll only be obligated to help if it doesn’t endanger you. And we won’t ask unless we have no other viable options.”
“Fine,” she grudgingly agreed. What are you doing, Sunshine? But it was too late to back out now. “But I will add a termination point of twenty-five years to this clause because I cannot pledge myself to unlawful protection duty for the rest of eternity.”
“Two hundred years.”
“Preposterous. Seventy-five.”
“One hundred fifty.”
“One hundred.”
“Fine. One hundred years.” He tilted his head from side to side in a stretch, and her gaze fixed on the tendons in his neck. She hadn’t thought necks could be attractive, but his undoubtedly was. How odd.
“But the time limit applies only to this,” he added. “The rest of the contract is indefinitely binding. You can’t betray us, try to kill us, or ask someone else to kill us—for the rest of time.”
By the Spheres, I am a fool. She should not be agreeing to this. No one knew what the future held.
But what option did she have? After three weeks of observation, her conscience would not let her act in the way she should. If the demon realized this and called her bluff, she would lose everything. Her only chance was to secure his assistance now before he realized her for the fraud she was.
“Very well,” she said, swallowing hard. “But let me also clarify that this contract works in reverse.
From now for the rest of time, you shall not attempt to kill or imprison me nor enlist another to do so.
You shall not speak of our association to anyone, including your brothers, and you shall not make any attempt to impart information through hints or uncharacteristic actions.
“Fine. But let’s add an out. If we both agree to end the contract for whatever reason, we can.”
“Agreed.” Honestly, that made her feel better too. “But again, consent must be given free of duress and manipulation. If there is any misunderstanding for either party, it shall not count as such.”
His eyes glinted with some kind of satisfaction. “Agreed.”
Her heart jumped at that look; she didn’t trust it one bit. But she couldn’t think of a single way to find a loophole from that clause. Once again, he had far more to lose than her.
Or so he believed.
And that continued belief was essential. Every second she wasted in negotiation was another second he could realize her farce and turn the tables.
In the end, she had no choice but to relent. “Then let us bind the contract and be done.”
A bound contract was unbreakable. Both parties were physically incapable of breaking their vows. She had no desire to trap herself so irreparably, but it was the only way to guarantee they couldn’t turn on each other.
Raum climbed to his feet, legs steady beneath him, gaze sharp. The effects of her blood had worn off completely after the first hour. She’d never seen such a thing before and wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He lifted his right hand, and she watched sharp talons grow from his fingertips, much like those on a bird.
Her eyes widened at the sight, and she fought to disguise her interest. Only the highest ranks of angels could take multiple forms, and even if Raum was shifting into a beast of the underworld, there was a certain beauty in his strangeness.
Each of his fingers ended in a curved black claw, and his knuckles were gnarled and rough. His leathery skin, scaled like that of a reptile, was a shiny obsidian that stretched up to his elbow, where it transitioned back to the dark bronze of his human skin.
Holding out his other, still-human palm, he slashed his foreclaw across it, and blood welled and dripped to the floor.
Lifting his gaze, he met her eyes and said, “On my own blood, I vow it.”