Page 49 of Thorns from the Fall

“We’re looking for a girl that was being held as collateral for a debt paid over a year ago. My brother was indisposed and unable to see her released.”

“He wants to know what the debt was. The price he paid,” Petra says after a moment.

“Is that relevant?”

“He says it’s about as relevant as you are to this conversation, considering your brother is the one who’s truly asking,” Petra says with a wince as she looks at Remy. I take a sip of my drink and stare Petra down, hoping the demon knows my anger is reserved for him. The only reason she’s even here is because Margot said this demon has gone rogue, and he doesn’t run in any of the local circles. He doesn’t abide by their rules, so maybe we’ll get somewhere with him that we didn’t with the others.

“Ten souls.” Remy says. “They wanted ten souls in exchange. Kayla’s mother owed a debt, and I guess it transferred to me when I didn’t turn her soul in. But I didn’t even know she made a deal.” Remy grabs Petra’s hand, eyebrows arched, and I realize my brother is adept at the puppy dog face too. “How was I supposed to know? When Kayla came back to the States, they found her and gave me a list of demands. So I killed who they asked, and now I want her back.”

Petra starts twitching. She appears to be deeply concentrating, eyes screwed shut as her brow furrows. But then she starts gasping for air. “No!” she shouts, and then her arms flail outward before going stiff. Slowly, she lowers them to her sides.

And then her eyes open and they’re pitch black.

“It will take far too long if she must repeat everything I say,” Petra’s voice says, but it’s not Petra speaking. The tone is different. Clipped and formal, it’s a far cry from the bubblywoman who’d appeared on my doorstep. “You will not refer to me as Az, like my petulant host prefers. You will not speak my name, however I am called Asmodeus, and I can help you—for a price.”

“Name it,” I say, a bit shocked that I’m conversing with a Prince of Hell, and the demon laughs—stopping abruptly.

“Petra has chosen to subtract your fee from her payout at the end of her bargain, so I suppose I’m working for free.” The demon’s eyes roll, and Margot opens her mouth to object, but I shake my head.

I’d sworn myself to my enemy the night we drank Petra’s tainted blood. I’d fallen to my knees and wanted to make Gwyn my own. I’d drank her blood, knowing it would put me at her mercy, and if I’m to maintain any dignity, I have to blame it on the demon blood.

I’ll accept Petra’s gift considering she was responsible for what happened that night.

“What were the names of the demons who presented you with this deal?”

“Barb and Sal?” Remy says, almost laughing. “I’m sure they didn’t give me their real names, but that’s?—”

“Barbatos and Salleos,” the demon says. Petra’s voice has gone deeper in the last few moments. She holds herself entirely differently. Rather than responding to the tone and words of those around her, the demon doesn’t falter. He takes full command of the room and her body. “I am sorry to say it, but it is unlikely that she is alive. Why have you not contacted them in the last year?”

“Well, I was… I mean… I couldn’t,” Remy says, and I don’t like watching the guilt paint his features in shades of regret.

“He’s been held captive until last week, and the host bodies were killed in the same attack. The demons were, however, present when Remy delivered the ninth and tenth souls theyasked for,” I say, looking at Remy as I answer, and he nods when I relay the information correctly. He’s nervous, and I don’t want to make him talk about being held captive. To him, being caught was a failure that might have cost Kayla her life—and he’s not exactly wrong. But if that’s the case, and Kayla is dead, it’s not his fault.

It’s Gwyn’s.

The demon looks at me, head tilted, before giving a slight nod. Perhaps he disapproves of how protective I am of my brother, but I don’t give a fuck.

“It’s very likely they are not done regenerating. And if that’s the case, whoever was holding the girl might have…well…” When the demon glances over at Remy, I get a glimpse of Petra’s eyes before they shift black once more. I wonder if she’s the reason the demon seems to be showing compassion. “It’s possible she’s been locked away with no contingency plan. Many demons only care about mortals to the extent of how they can be used. All she was to Barbatos and Salleos was a business venture, so you should be prepared for the worst.”

It’s possible she’s been locked up and starved to deathis the indelicate translation for what the demon is trying to say. But he’s being kind about it, and I’ll assume it’s Petra’s humanity.

“How can we know for certain?” I ask. Margot reaches across the table, taking Remy’s shaking hand. As a tear rolls down his cheek, I keep my gaze firmly on the demon sitting beside him.

“I’ll be right back,” the demon says, before sitting back more comfortably in the chair. When a black, misty, humanoid form steps out of Petra’s body, much larger than the small woman, she slumps into her seat. I have to wonder if he sat back on purpose to assure her safety. She seems to be asleep for a moment as the demon’s form dissipates, but then she shakes herself out of it and grabs the arms of the chair.

“Did he leave?” she asks, looking left and right. Her heart races, thumping loudly, and her knuckles go white as she grips the chair.

“I thought you made a bargain. That you signed up for this,” I say. I stand, walking to the kitchen to refill my drink. Remy slumps down into his seat, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about him. Anything that happened to Kayla isn’t his fault. He did more than anyone to try and save her, so if she died, the blame doesn’t fall on him. But he won’t see it that way.

“I did,” she says, before asking Margot for a glass of water. “I just…he’s coming back, right?”

“You want him to?” Remy straightens, seeming shocked, but I’m not. There must be more to these two than it seems. But I don’t give a shit about the woman’s demon issues.

“Well, our bargain, I mean…” She doesn’t meet his gaze. “I need the money.”

“How much?” Remy asks before glancing at me with pleading eyes.

Absolutely fucking not, I think, hoping that perhaps he’s got enough understanding of body language to know I will not be giving this woman a cent.

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