Page 14 of The Devil She Knows
Sam gritted her teeth, biting back a retort. Her underwear wasnotboring. It was practical.
Rather than risk her neck arguing a moot point, she skimmed the page, the black Helvetica text blurring against the stark-white printer paper. “What? Are you freaking kidding me? I have to give you mysoul?”
Now,thatshe had a problem with.
“Only upon the completion of your wishes, of course,” Daphne said, as if that made any difference. “You can find that outlined on”—she flipped through the stack of papers at a speed too fast to be human—“page 666, paragraph 69, executory consideration.”
Sam didn’t care what page it was on. “It’s—it’s mysoul. I can’t give you my soul.”
Daphne had the nerve to look confused. “Why not?”
Sam gaped at her.
“Have you ever seen your soul? How often do you think about it? I mean, do you even know what it is?”
Of course Sam knew what it was. “It’s … it’s …” She gestured vaguely,emphatically, pointing at her chest, her head, her … She didn’t really know where to point. As far as she knew, souls weren’t tangible. “It’s the thing that makes meme.”
“No, dumbass.” Daphne laughed. “That’s your personality.”
Oh.Right. “Fine. It’s the thing that tells me the difference between right and wrong.”
“And that”—Daphne rose onto her knees—“would be your conscience.”
Sam huffed, ready for Daphne to just tell her what the hell it was, since clearly, Sam was batting a thousand on her own. “I’m not exactly a theologian, but I know it does something. Something important.”
Otherwise, there’d be no reason to have one. Otherwise, Daphne wouldn’t be treating it like a bargaining chip.
Daphne gathered her dress in her hands and, skirting the stack of papers between them, knee-walked her way across the elevator. “You want to know the truth? Souls don’t reallydoanything. I mean, name one thing your soul has done for you so far. You can’t!”
Sam held impossibly still, breath trapped in her chest as Daphne hiked her dress higher, tossing one leg over both of hers, straddling Sam’s thighs.
“Screw personal space, right?” Sam gasped out of necessity more than shock, though that was there, too. This close, the sharp, sweet vanilla scent that seemed to emanate from Daphne’s pores was intense, mouthwatering, and—against Sam’s better judgment, she inhaled deeply.
Addictive.
“Personal space is overrated,” Daphne agreed, plopping down in Sam’s lap, so close that even through their many layers, her dress, Sam’s coat, Sam’s pantsuit, Sam could feel the warmth of her, hotter than any human ran. “As overrated as your soul. It could be gone, and you wouldn’t even miss it.”
A strangled sound escaped Sam’s lips as Daphne’s hands slipped between the buttons of her coat, fingers dragging up the hem of her blouse until she found bare flesh and poked Sam hard. “A little like your appendix.”
Sam slapped at her wandering hands, earning a pouty little huff. “If my soul’s so useless, how come you want it so badly?”
Daphne sat back, weight resting on Sam’s thighs, the arch of her brows making her look mildly impressed. “Truth is? I really couldn’t care less about your soul. It’s not me who wants it. Not really.”
“Who does?” Sam asked carefully, provoking Daphne’s ire the last thing she needed. “Want it, I mean.”
“Think of it like a chess match between good and evil,” she said, toying with the buttons running down the center of Sam’s coat. “Souls, or souls like yours, the grand majority of them, are like pawns. Numerous and weak, not particularly valuable, but not entirely worthless, either. There’s power in numbers, after all.”
Weak but not entirely worthless. Sam had been called worse. “If I’m a pawn, or if my soul is, what does that make you?”
“Just another piece in the game,” Daphne said, lips twisting to the side in a wry smile. “Even pawns can be promoted.”
Her insistence on speaking in riddles was making Sam’s head ache. “So, let me break this down. You’re offering me six wishes in exchange for my soul. Which isn’t worth much, but you still want it. But it’s not personal. You’re just an agent of evil.”
Daphne followed Sam’s gaze over to the laughably large contract. “The rest is mostly legalese. You’re acknowledging that you’re an adult, of sound mind, and not currently under the influence of drugs or alcohol. You’re not entering into this deal as a result of threats, coercion, or improper persuasion.”
Sam’s eyes darted pointedly to her lap, making Daphne laugh.
“Are you feeling improperly persuaded, Sam?” Daphne purred, a wicked gleam in her eyes. She reached out, hot fingers skimming Sam’s jaw, sending a shiver skittering down her spine. “I’d be happy to persuade you properly. If you’d like.”
