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I leaned on the bar and buffed my purple fingernails, casual. Demon turf wars were dangerous, but they could be good for business. “Maybe. What’s the target?”
The demon drummed his fingertips on the bar, and tiny flames licked the glass. “You’ll fetch something for me. An amulet. From a strongbox.”
My ears pricked. Magic trinkets ahoy. “Yeah? What kind of amulet?”
“The powerful kind. It has … something inside it that belongs to me. I’d recommend you don’t break it.”
“What’s the security?”
He shrugged, heavy like granite. “I’m afraid I haven’t visited in a long time.”
“I can arrange a preliminary survey.”
“Not possible.”
“Always possible. For an extra fee, of course. How much did you say you were offering?”
Another smile, but this time his teeth sprang long and sharp, and ash drifted from his hair. “That depends on the condition it’s in when you return. If you return at all.”
I licked my lips, bitter. “Okay. Forgive me if I’m cautious. Where did you say this strongbox was?”
“Somewhere unpleasant.”
I sighed. “Enough with the evasive answers. I guess this is a bad idea—”
“One favor, Lena Falco.” The demon caught my hand, swift like a snake, and his touch rooted me to the spot. “Whatever you desire, large or small. No catch. No lies. Do you want the job or not?”
He stroked my knuckles, sparks dancing, and temptation licked my blood hot. Money. Magic. Whatever I wanted.
I closed my eyes on spell-sweet dizziness. He was playing with me. My fairy spells were useless. I wanted to sigh, press his palm to my cheek, lean in, and kiss him until I died. But my hex pendant buzzed angrily, the heat shocking me awake, and I blinked drunkenly and yanked my hand away.
The job sounded difficult. But I needed the break if I wanted to keep my blood in my body and not in a mobster’s liquid lunch. Either that, or I’d still be running the lipstick con into my mid-thirties. Cherry-cola cougar. Pathetic much?
Innate warning squirmed in my belly, the prehistoric kind that’s supposed to stop you getting eaten. Demon! Bad! Run! it shrieked, but I stamped on it. Sure, dealing with demons was dangerous. But I wasn’t promising this dude anything in advance. If I did the work, I’d get the prize—and if I didn’t like the outcome, I could simply cut my losses and walk away. Right?
I sucked in an ash-tainted breath. “Okay. Deal.”
He held out his hand again, silent.
I took it. Shook. His palm was warm, dry, smooth like glass. For a moment, sharp claws stung my knuckles. And then they were gone.
He smiled, all charm again. “Thank you, Lena. Sure you won’t take that drink?”
“No, thanks. Where’s this amulet, and what’s it look like?”
“You’ll know it when you see it. It’s in a private residence. In the strongbox.” He leaned toward me, sniffing. “You’ve got cas
h. That’s good. You’ll need it to get where you’re going.”
Shit. Should have included expenses. “Why? Isn’t it a local job?”
“Not exactly.” He smiled again at my expression. “Oh, it’s quite close. It won’t take long.”
“Enough with the doublespeak, hellboy. You hired me. Where’s the damned amulet?”
“Not damned, technically.” The demon licked pale lips, flames dancing in his hair. “Just hell-trapped. It’s at my brother’s place. In hell.”
* * *
