Page 95 of Only Fangs

“The thing that is worse than living for eternity, is being a slave for eternity. You know what a demon is?”

“I…” Jesus, I’m starting to realise I know nothing at all. “Look, Ivan. Can we stop with all the questions I blatantly don’t know the answers to and you can just tell me what you’re trying to say.”

He huffs loudly. “Fine. But I’m getting another glass of wine first.” He stomps into the house and returns with a bottle of red and a corkscrew, thrusting them into my hands. “Open that and I’ll tell you.”

I busy myself with the bottle as he begins to pace again.

“So,” he says. “A demon is a trapped soul inside a slightly hypothetical body. The body is like an illusion, a way of the soul walking and talking and generally not being mistaken for a ghost.”

“Ghosts are real?” I ask.

“Not the time, Brody,” he admonishes and motions for me to hurry up with opening the wine. “Anyway, demons need a physical form of sorts, but really they’re just the trapped soul.”

I hand him the now open bottle and watch as he sloshes a healthy helping into his glass. “Trapped how?” I ask.

“Not how, the technical details aren’t important. The main thing is they’re trapped. Condemned. Destined to spend eternity as the puppet to a higher power, making deals and selling loans, collecting the futures of those who can’t keep up with the repayments.”

“What happens to them, the ones who can’t pay?”

“He can compel them to do his bidding, but in reality it’s kind of banal stuff. Like collecting coffee and answering emails. A demon will make them an eternal PA.”

“OK. So that doesn’t sound too bad.”

He pauses with his glass by his lips. “That’s what happens to the vampires and other supernatural species he strikes a deal with. You, on the other hand, are human.” He wrinkles his nose slightly.

“So what happens to me?”

“You, my dear boy, would become the demon. Your soul swapped for theirs.”

“So my freedom for theirs?”

“Exactly.”

“But surely this is the kind of deal a demon would make in a heartbeat.”

“It is. Except that no human is stupid enough to make the deal.”

I don’t say anything else. I have a lot to think about. But at least I now know what I might be offering.

Chapter 49

Ari

Clara stays in my room, the two of us hiding under the covers like a makeshift fort as we talk through the night, making plans and then discarding them as their cracks begin to show and their flaws become obvious. But the sun begins to rise and we still have nothing figured out. It feels hopeless. Even with a year to play with, how am I meant to find a way to lift a demon’s curse? Or convince Clara’s father that I shouldn’t marry Benedict.

“Could we find a way to make Benedict not want to marry you?” Clara asks, sitting up in bed as if this is the most genius idea in the world.

“How do you mean?”

“Like make you hideously unattractive to him.” She’s getting animated as her idea gathers steam. “What does he absolutely hate in a woman? We figure that out and then that’s what you do.”

“So I take a year to make myself the total anti-wife?” I don’t know if it’s because we haven’t slept or because it’s actually genius, but I’m starting to warm to the idea.

“Yeah. So, we know he hates feminists.” Clara slides out from under the covers and starts to pace up and down my room. “And he hates people being unkempt, right?”

“Right.” Benedict is an absolute stickler for personal grooming.

“And swearing.” Clara is really warming up to this idea now, ticking things off on her fingers and sporting a grin that’s broadening with each item. “And dogs.” She paces up and down the room again. “And modern books, or anything that isn’t considered a classic.” Another trip up and down the room. “And…” she trails off. “You need to help me here.”