Page 99 of A Dangerous Bargain

Lupa gently nudges the cat aside and motions for me to take the chair. “When I returned here, so did my memories. I’ve seen countless demons leave and come back filled with stories of art, of poetry, beauty, and love. I didn’t understand until I was there myself that they’d seen it all from the corners. They hadn’t lived it. They had spent years in your world, but learned nothing of what it was to be human.” She strokes the cat’s fur, glancing out the window of nothingness like it might become a view if she looks long enough. “Taking that girl’s soul felt unsporting. Each time a bargain-maker asked me for magic, it was unsatisfying. Tricking a soul from a mortal is quite different from tormenting one who deserves to be here.” She reaches up to graze the space behind her ear—the memory of a scar. “You helped me see why it felt wrong.”

“Me?”

“After we became friends, I felt a foreign stirring in my mind. A memory from the girl whose body I had stolen. Her name was Maddalena. She was married against her will and fought to escape her husband.” She traces the phantom scar again. “But not before he hurt her.”

My hands clench on the armrests, a tension I feel down in my very core. I can guess what happened next. She heard rumors that the Medici could solve her problems. They promised her the world and destroyed hers instead.

Just like they did to my brother.

Tears fill my eyes again.

Deep in the palace, there’s a long, ecstatic scream. I bolt away from the door, gasping. My fear is an overflowing cup, drenching me with cold. I’m feeling too much, and the demons know, but the way Lupa’s looking at me now tells me that it’s right. I’m doing exactly what I need to do.

“No soul should be trapped in hell unless they deserve it.” Lupa’s illusion slips, and I flinch seeing the dark, scaled flicker of her true shape. It only lasts a blink, and then her gold-green eyes are back on mine. “The devil’s power comes from these ill-gotten souls, but it’s as corrupt as his methods. This crumbling castle. Our monstrous forms. He says we’re beautiful, but I still remember what real beauty is. I still remember you.” Her hand curls over mine, a deep smoldering fire in her eyes. “When I left that girl’s body, I remembered why I wanted to come to earth. I remembered what I’d set out to do.”

A force slams the door.

“Bring the mortal to me!”

My hands fly over my ears, but the voice rattles my brain, my very soul. It hurts. Tears sting my eyes.

Lupa falls to her knees, teeth gritted, bits of her dress dissolved to reveal flashes of sinew and bone beneath. “Your Majesty, I—”

“Now!”

The roaring pressure disappears. Lupa straightens, her glare harder than iron. “He knows you’re here now.”

I don’t need to ask. I already know.

The devil wants me.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Lupa escorts me through the palazzo, bringing us to a vast ballroom as the awful music I heard before swells. Inside, demons lurch in a clumsy pantomime of dancing. They look more or less human—minus a tail, or a pair of wings or horns—but their clothes are all wrong. Some wear skirts on their torsos and corsets on the legs. Some are completely naked, save jewels dripping from their ears and fingers. Even though it’s all an illusion, I blush and look away.

Lupa bows. “Here is Virgil, my honored guest for the evening.”

The ballroom lurches to a stop.

A hundred pairs of eyes fasten onto me.

I force my face to ease into a smile, force my waist to bend, bowing to the crowd even though my entire body screams at me to turn around and run. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

When I lift, I see the devil.

Young, handsome, more human than anyone else. He’d be the least monstrous thing here if it wasn’t for the writhing shadows that blur his edges like dark fire. His power fills me, a nauseous, dizzying wave. A poison of the mind. I stumble and cough, vision wavy at the sides. Only Lupa’s grip on my elbow keeps me upright.

The devil’s voice is a silky pout. “We don’t bring humans here anymore. Remember Hercules?”

The other demons murmur and hiss, remembering something so far gone, it’s considered myth in my time.

Lupa ducks her head. “He’s not merely a human. He’s also my friend.”

The devil flinches at the word “friend,” shock fading away to mounting anger. “Why did you do this? Do you mock my rules?”

Lupa raises her hands, asking for silence. “Virgil is dead, Your Majesty. The dead cannot hurt you here.”

Is it my imagination, or does her voice press into that “here” a little more than usual? A shiver races down my back.