Page 70 of Baking and Angels

The demon lifted his hands defensively. “I’m just asking for the same mercy you’ve been shown. Isn’t that what your pretty little old soul is all about? She gave your unworthy ass a second chance, and that’s all I’m asking for.”

Rafferty couldn’t bring himself to fight again, not with so many eyes still watching them, so his only recourse was to flee. Unfortunately, Vassago was nothing but persistent.

“I mean, look at you! You’re alive! I’ve never seen a miracle like you before. One of us getting to come back and get a second chance to live. That’s all I want. Hey!” Vassago seized Rafferty’s sleeve to slow him up. “Listen, please. I’m begging you. I’ll get right down on my knees right here if you want, but please, Rafferty, hear me out. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I want to be just like you, now. A man. Alive.Alive!”

“I can’t help you,” Rafferty tried to say, but he could hear the wavering in hisown voice.

“It wasn’t a fluke, was it?” Vassago slipped his arm over Rafferty’s shoulders, in that camaraderie-way this demon would do, that made Rafferty feel both held and trapped at the same time. “I’ve been thinking about it. I know you have, too. Helena took your place, didn’t she? She’s bearing all of your sins now, but somehow that has meant that she can still be here without any price. I’ve seen those agents. They tested both of you, but neither of you registered on their little evil devices. I just want the same thing.”

“You want to fall in love?” Rafferty said, and instantly regretted it.

Vassago raised his eyebrows. “Love?” Then he started to laugh. “Oh, is that it? You got the little old soul to love you so much that she was willing… Ohhhhh.” The sound rolled out of Vassago with a breathy awe. “Oh, that’s tricksome, isn’t it? Love. People don’t summon demons in order to love us. It’s not inherent in the deal. We can make them think they love us, but they’re still taking from us, so it doesn’t work. No one ever just summons us for our own sake, do they? This little old soul of yours, you believe she truly genuinely loved you.”

Rafferty, hearing the past tense, went stiff under Vassago’s arm.

“Well, because it’s not like she loves you still. She can’t, can she? She’s a demon now.”

“Ilove her,” Rafferty said softly. “I loved her even when I wasa demon.”

Vassago scoffed and withdrew his arm. “If you think that, you are lying to yourself. Or your human brain is misremembering. Rationalizing. We aren’t chained down like they are by those sorts of feelings. Just like she’s not weighed down now. But I’m not judging you. You always were a bright boy, and the fact that you figured this out all on your own… I mean, I applaud you. You won the game. I never actually believed that was possible. So thank you.” Vassago laid a hand over his nonexistent heart. “Thank you.”

And, withthat, he left.

Rafferty turned, managing to slam his way back to the bathroom and through one of the stalls tothrow up.

Chapter 27

Divine

Intervention

Rafferty hada problem.

No one was selectinghis dish.

He had cut into one of the pies and dished out the slices onto the plates provided by the hotel. To his eye, they all came out perfect, with even colors, and it smelled delicious to him. But when he set out his plates with a small bit of greenery garnish, no one picked one up to giveit a try.

“Raffie, what’s wrong?” Helena asked, coming up beside him to speak softly.

“I don’t understand it,” he whispered back. “There were several people who expressed interest in my dish, now where have theyall gone?”

His eyes skimmedthe room.

“There seems to be as many people as before. In fact, I would say there are more,” Helena noted, and she was right. The room was flooded with people, and they were gathering around the other contestants, selecting plates of their dishes before moving toward other tables to sit and eat. There was a lot of energy and excitement in the room, while the “nobles” nearby, Scarlet and Ritchie, observed and commented while splitting a bottle of wine.

Eleanor’s station in particular was raging as people cheered and clapped while she put together stir fries to order and made a show of flaring the fire and making the ingredients dance. Already her plate stack had shrunk, and the officials were keeping count as they added more. It was clear that out of everyone in the room, she was doingthe best.

“Boy, she’s really putting on a show,” Helena said thoughtfully, then looked down at his offerings. “And your show was earlier when you were putting the pie together. But where are the people who were watching you then? They looked so interested.”

“They came back and got a couple of plates, but that’s it. No new people,” he reported, wondering where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it. The presentation looks appealing, right?”

A look of pity flashed on Helena’s face, and a thrum of panic jittered through him. “What’s wrong with them?” he asked, his voice nearly the whine of a child, and he cleared his throat.

“Nothing!” Helena assured him. “I think it’s delicious. I had one, it’s wonderful!”

He waved her compliment away. “Taste means nothing if the other person doesn’t think it looks appealing.”

“But it does!” his girlfriend insisted. “It’s colorful and fun. It looks really good.”

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