Page 37 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

I came to the human realm, bought a hideous warehouse, painted the outside to look like a rotting corpse because it was the nineties and apparently I had no taste, and built something that belonged to me. The Rot became my club, my rules, my life. I’ve been very happy not hunting people ever since. “Find someone else.”

“You’re the best there is.”

My ego gives one tiny, traitorous purr, and I tell it to shut the fuck up.

Stefan pushes away from the edge of my desk. “Besides, this isn’t some random human who didn’t read the fine print. You know him. Raykin.”

I go still. I haven’t heard that name in decades, but it still lands like the demon gut punched me just like the day he ran away. “No.”

“You two used to be close.”

“Used to be.” And it’s not like we were lovers, just really good friends. No benefits.

“Which means you know how he thinks.”

“It also means he knows how I think, too.” I rise from my chair and pace toward the window. “If he knew Dorman might eventually come for me, he’d know what I’d look for.” He’d know the tricks I taught him and the ones I kept to myself.

Once upon a time, before everything went to shit between us, he knew me really fucking well. I knew him, too. We tracked together, drank together, got into trouble together. Then I started pulling away from the work, and he didn’t understand why.

He thought contracts were contracts. Souls were payment. Our job was to find people, not worry about what happened after. I stopped agreeing. Eventually, I stopped showing up altogether.

Curiosity sinks its claws into me and I’m sure Stefan sees it.

“I hate you,” I mumble.

“I know.”

I turn away from the window. Why did Raykin make the contract?

Stefan’s smile grows and he opens his mouth.

I raise my hand to stop him from speaking. “I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“Of course not.” Stefan nods.

“What was the contract for?” I lean against the edge of my desk while Stefan explains. Apparently, my former friend made a contract with Dorman years ago after I wouldn’t deal with his soul. Payment came due. Instead of holding up his end, he vanished so thoroughly that every tracker sent after him came back empty-handed.

That alone bothers me. The disappearing act. I taught that asshole half of what he knows about hiding really fucking well, and he taught me more than a few tricks in return.

“The answer is still no.”

Stefan shrugs and starts toward the door. “Alrighty, I’ll tell him you said no.”

Too easy. I narrow my eyes. “None of you go near Sparkle.”

Stefan stops with his hand on the doorknob and looks back at me.

“I mean it.” I point toward him. “You don’t watch him. Don’t follow him. Don’t enter his house. You don’t take pictures of him. Sparkle has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Then perhaps you should stop making it so obvious how much he matters to you.”

The words hit so much harder than I want them to.

Stefan isn’t threatening Sparkle. That’s almost worse. He’s pointing out something I should already know. I spent centuries in the demon realm. I know how leverage works, and I’ve been parading mine around while singing seven fucking verses about him in public.

Fuck. “Fine! I’ll find Raykin.”

Stefan’s brows rise as he turns fully back toward me.