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There was a twinkle in her aunt’s eye when she’d replied,“Sure. You could say that.”
Joy had assumed perhaps her aunt had one-night stands, or a partner. It had been yet another reason the family had cut her off; her perpetual singleness and refusal to get married again—their words, not hers.
Now, Joy had a different suspicion.
“So.” Aunty Paloma clapped her hands when they were done eating and had settled in the sitting room. “Shall we get to the crux of it? I know you’re not just here to admire my décor. Have you done it, then?”
She asked it briskly, but calmly, like Joy summoning a demon to help her get away with murder was a normal occurrence.
“Not yet,” Joy said, trying to mirror her aunt’s calm and probably failing. “I actually came over because I have some questions.”
Aunty Paloma raised both her eyebrows. “That couldn’t be asked over the phone?”
“No.” And risk the possibility of Malachi overhearing? Definitely fucking not. A text message wouldn’t have sufficed, either; she needed to have this conversation face to face.
Her aunt huffed, waving a hand in a “go on” gesture.
“Do you have a contract with a demon?” She blurted it like ripping off a Band-Aid. She hadn’t asked last time because she’d been terrified despite her resolve to go on with her plan.
Aunty Paloma was silent for a moment, watching her. Then her lips ticked up in the corner, and she said, “Of a sort.”
Joy’s heart leapt into her throat. She sat forward. “What does that mean?”
Aunty Paloma looked at her again—into her eyes, one after the other, like she was trying to gauge for herself if Joy was ready for this conversation.
Satisfied enough with what she saw, she said, “I sold my soul to kill my husband.” Joy couldn’t quite keep her eyes from bugging out. Aunty Paloma laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I was young and desperate, and Klaus was … persuasive.”
The way she said the demon’s name made Joy shiver. It sounded familiar—intimate.
“Klaus is …” Joy began,taking a sipof her juice to wet her suddenly dry throat.
“My demon, yes,” Aunty Paloma finished.
“Your—” Joy sputtered, quickly snapping hermouthshut, her cheeks on fire.
Aunty Paloma’s lips ticked up again. “Your demon must be pretty persuasive, too. Is that why you’re here?”
She thought of sitting in Malachi’s lap last night, his hands on her hips rocking her against his dick. Then afterward, when they’d fuckingcuddledon the sofa and watched TV until the sun had come up. Who knew Malachi was also a big fan of cartoons, even though he tried to do something as ridiculously endearing as try to make sense of their randomness.
“He literally died in the last scene,” Malachi had complained when Anton, the character who was literally a piece of toast, had been eaten by a flock of seagulls, but appeared in the next scene, hale and hearty. “How is he here again, alive and well? And they’re acting like everything is normal, when they werethere.”
“Please, stop,” Joy had said, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. Malachi had seemed to like making her laugh, exaggerating his questions and complaints until Joy was nearly peeing herself with it.
Joy’s lips almost twitched at the memory.Fuck. If it weren’t for her dark skin, she’d probably be as red as a ripe strawberry.
“That’s not—he’s not—I was just curious. I didn’t sell my soul,” she tacked on, like it would make her look less guilty.
“And now youwantto sell your soul?” Aunty Paloma looked confused.
“What? No.” Joy blushed again. “I was just—I was curious. On whether you had a contract or not. I wasn’t brave enough to ask last time. That’s literally it.”
Aunty Paloma stared at her, seeing right through her bullshit. “You don’t need my permission to fuck your demon, Joy.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Aunty.” Joy wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
“Or perhaps you’d rather date them?” Aunty Paloma said, wagging her eyebrows. “Thatiswhy you’re here, isn’t it?”
“No,” Joy said, mortified.
