"A shiny nickel." Sam scowled. "Are you kidding me? I'm not asking you to grant a wish. I'm just asking—"
"For a favor," she said, dragging out the words like Sam was slow. "And I am a demon. We don't do favors, honey, we do deals. Tit for tat or stop wasting my time."
"Damn skippy, you're a demon; all you have is time."
She arched a dark brow. "What makes you think I want to spend any of it talking to you?"
"I only have the one soul, and I already promised that to a different demon."
"Looks like you're shit out of luck, then." Sidestepping Sam, she started to walk away for the third time.
"Wait!" Sam bit back a huff of irritation. "I'll—I'll pay for your bagel!"
The demon paused in the middle of the path and Sam held her breath.
"Two bagels," she said after a moment of deliberation. "Extra cream cheese. And I want lox."
"Done."
"And no capers."
"Fine."
"Or red onions. And I don't want the bagel toasted, I want it—"
"Oh my God!" Sam fished around inside her purse for a twenty-dollar bill and threw it at her. "Go buy your own damn bagels."
The demon—and Sam really wished she had been forthcoming with her name, because thinking of her as the demon felt odd and a little rude, even all things considered—bent gracefully and snatched the money off the ground, tucking it inside her bra.
"Don't get your hopes up," the demon cautioned her. "Daphne's not going to come. And on the off chance she does, you better tell her this was all your idea and that I didn't touch a hair on your pretty little head, capisce?"
Sam bobbed her head. "Okay, okay." She made an impatient hurry-up gesture with her hand. "Just—try."
The demon closed her eyes then, a deep furrow forming between her dark, gently curved brows. A minute passed and it was mostly silent, with only the sound of rustling leaves and traffic in the distance and Sam's heart pounding inside her head, ever faster.
"Sorry." The demon opened her eyes. "I'm not getting anything. I reached out, but she didn't answer."
Her stomach hardened. "Try again."
The demon pressed her fingertips to her temple like this was all too much for her. "I warned you. I told you not to get your hopes up, that if she doesn't want to talk, I can't make her."
That wasn't good enough. "You can't or you won't?"
"Look, hon." The demon set her hands on her slender, leather-clad hips. "I keep my nose clean, and I do it by minding my own business. You want to talk to Daphne so badly? Go find someone else, a demon willing to face her wrath. Good luck finding one."
She was Sam's someone else , and as loath as Sam was to admit it, the demon had made a good point. One that hadn't even crossed her desperate mind when she'd made the short trek to the crossroads.
She had nothing of any value to offer a demon. Her soul was tied up in a different deal, and maybe offering to buy a demon breakfast had worked once, but she had a feeling it wouldn't a second time.
But Sam hadn't come this far to only come this far. Something had to give.
" Try. Again ," she repeated, injecting as much steel into her voice as she could muster.
The demon snickered quietly, like she found Sam's anger amusing. Adorable, even. "Or what?"
" Or when I do get ahold of Daphne, and mark my words I will, I'll tell her you tried to make a deal with me."
With an indignant laugh, the demon crossed her arms and glowered, looking at Sam for the first time like she was sizing her up. "You'd lie?"
Sam couldn't tell whether she sounded pissed or impressed.
"I'd do a lot of things to get what I want right now, but technically it's not a lie. I gave you twenty dollars in exchange for a service. That's a deal in my book."
Maybe not the kind of deal demons cared about, but a deal nonetheless.
"That's rather wily of you." Her jaw ticked. "I respect it."
Sam stood a little taller. "Thank you. Now, if you wouldn't mind—"
"I can reach out again, but she's still not going to answer."
Then enough with the demon telepathy. "Quit calling or whatever it is you're doing and go ring her doorbell."
"She won't come. She won't listen. What she'll do is find some way to bind me in Hell so you can't summon me a second time. Then we'll both be fucked."
Shit. This couldn't be the end of the line. It couldn't. Sam refused to accept that. No, there had to be some other way.
Everyone was terrified of Daphne? Well then, Sam just needed to find someone who wasn't.
An exception to the rule, someone Daphne hadn't put the fear of God into.
If Sam could get them to listen to her , and Daphne to listen to them …
she'd still have to convince Daphne to hear her out.
Convince her that if Daphne didn't care about Sam getting older, neither did she.
But she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
"Okay. Fine. If she won't listen to you and she won't listen to me, go find me somebody she will listen to."
The demon shook her head slowly, brows drawn together, her scowl softening into a sympathetic frown.
"This somebody of whom you speak—do you even have the slightest clue who they are? Because I sure as hell don't.
" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked over her shoulder, as if making sure they were still alone.
"Look, I don't know what Daphne told you, what all you know, what you think you know, but Hell is a hierarchy much like any other organization.
Rank is determined by seniority and experience.
Are there demons down there older than Daphne?
Of course. But she climbed the ranks expeditiously, collecting more souls in a shorter period of time than any other demon.
Very few demons outrank her, meaning there are very few demons she'll answer to.
The best advice I can give you?" She reached out and with a stiff hand patted Sam on the shoulder.
"Go home, Samantha Cooper, and do your damnedest to forget any of this ever happened."
Sam shrugged off her clumsy attempt at comfort. "You're saying—you're saying I just need to find someone who outranks her."
Her heart felt sluggish and heavy with every stuttered beat.
The demon opened her mouth only to shut it with a sigh. She stared up at the sky as if searching for strength in the clouds. "Technically. I guess."
Without a doubt, this would go down as the dumbest thing Samantha had ever done, but she knew. She knew what she had to do. "Then I would like to speak to your manager."
"My what?" she asked flatly, blinking owlishly at her.
"I said, I'd like to speak to your manag—"
"No, no, turns out I heard you just fine the first time." She palmed her forehead, looking faint. "Have you lost your godforsaken mind?"
"Maybe I have," Sam said, tucking her balled-up fists under her arms so her hands wouldn't shake. "It doesn't change the fact that I'd like to speak with him."
"You don't. You really don't. Trust me." She stole a step back and shook her head. "Daphne would not want you to do this."
A bitter laugh escaped her. "Maybe she should have thought about that before she left me high and dry. So." She gave a curt nod. "If you'd please do whatever it is you've got to do, I'd appreciate it."
"I'm starting to think you two are made for each other. You're both fucking crazy." She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a long, shuddering sigh as her hand fell to her side. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
She shut her eyes, face creased in clear concentration. After a moment, the tension bled from her face, and when her eyes opened, they were black from corner to corner.
"Thank you, Eithrig."
Sam started at the voice over her shoulder. A voice as smooth as velvet with a lilt she couldn't place.
"Samantha Cooper."
A cold shiver skittered down her spine, like someone had walked over her grave, her grandmother would have said. She held her breath.
"I believe you wanted to talk?"