Page 86 of The Devil She Knows
A trash truck rumbled down the street, and the stench of garbage and diesel made her eyes water. The truck passed,wind whipping wisps of hair in her face, and as it did, Sam locked eyes with a tall brunette across the street.
A tall brunette who, two seconds ago, had not been standing there.
Her dark eyes, already some of the biggest Sam had ever seen, widened. “Oh,hellno.”
She turned on her heel and started to walk away from Sam.
“Wait!” Sam hurried after her. “I just want to talk.”
“No fucking way,” she called out over her shoulder. She was tall, taller than Sam, her long legs encased in tight-fitting black leather pants, and they were eating up the sidewalk. “I like my head attached to my body, thanks ever so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means this conversation is officially over. As far as I’m concerned, it never even happened.” She made a sharp left into the park, footsteps tearing up the pavement. “Go away.”
“Would you please just …” Sam skirted a pile of wet leaves, swearing under her breath when a few of them stuck to her boot. “Slow down for a second. You’re the one who showed up.”
The woman stopped and glared. “All I wanted was a stupid bagel. I was two blocks away, and you were practicallyoozingdesperation. I couldn’t have resisted had I tried. I’m surprised you didn’t summon every demon in the tristate area with your eau de woe.”
Holy shit. She had actually done it. Summoned a demon. She and hereau de woehad pulled it off. She’d figured as much with the whole sudden-appearance schtick, but hearingit confirmed was—and she couldn’t believe she was thinking this—a relief. “Look—what’s your name?”
“Oh, fat chance.” She crossed her arms and the hem of her handkerchief-style top rose, baring a wide strip of her midriff all the way from her pierced belly button down to the jut of her hip bones. “I believe I was quite clear when I said I like my head on my shoulders.”
“Demons can’t die.”
“So? Decapitation still hurts like a motherfucker.”
Sam was afraid to ask if she was speaking from experience.
“Okay, fine, forget telling me your name. I’m Sam and I just want—”
“I know who you are, Samantha Cooper.” She rolled her eyes. “I also know that you are strictly verboten.”
“Oh yeah? Says who?”
“Who do you think? Demon, about yea high.” She held her hand up, indicating approximately how tall Daphne was in the heels she wore. “Has a strange proclivity for the color pink? Ringing any bells?”
Sam sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. “You know Daphne?”
“Everyone knows Daphne. Everyone isterrifiedof Daphne. And if someone says they aren’t, they’re either lying or they’re a fool.”
“So she what? Put out some Hell-wide memo that I’m … what, off-limits? What does that even mean?”
She hadn’t even known Daphne could do that. Mark humans, markher, off-limits.
“On pain of torture, no demon shall attempt to enter intoa deal with the human Samantha Marjorie Cooper. She was quite clear about what she’d do if anyone disobeyed her directive.” She shivered. “Quite colorful, too.”
“Well, lucky for us both, I’m not looking to make any other deals. All I want is to talk to Daphne.”
“Best of luck with that.” She gave Sam a two-finger salute and turned like she was about to walk off, but Sam, anticipating it this time, jumped in front of her and held out her hands, arms outstretched.
“Please. Just … can you tell me how to get in touch with her?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for me?”
“A shiny nickel.” Sam scowled. “Are you kidding me? I’m not asking you to grant a wish. I’m just asking—”
“For a favor,” she said, dragging out the words like Sam was slow. “And I am a demon. We don’t do favors, honey, we do deals. Tit for tat or stop wasting my time.”
