Page 15 of Summoning Mr. Wrong
I did know how it was. It was bullshit, is what it was.
“When’s my last day?” I asked, already mentally calculating how long I could stretch my meager savings.
“Today was, actually. I’ll mail your last check.”
And just like that, I was unemployed. I set my phone down carefully, as if it might explode.
“Bad news?” Deus asked, drying a plate with more concentration than the task required.
“I just got fired.” The words felt hollow in my mouth. “So I can’t pay rent, can’t buy food, and will probably be homeless by the end of the month. But hey, at least the owner’s nephew has a bright future in coffee art.”
Deus set down the plate and turned to face me fully. “I’m sorry, Julian.”
“Not your fault.” I leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted despite having just woken up. “Just my perpetually shitty luck.”
“What can I do?”
The question caught me off guard. I’d expected a sarcastic comment, maybe some demonic perspective on how brief human problems were in the grand scheme of things. Not this simple offer of help.
“Unless you can conjure up a new job or a pile of cash, not much,” I said, trying for humor but landing closer to bitter.
“I can, actually,” he said seriously. “The cash part, at least. I told you money for your date wasn’t an issue.”
I frowned. “Where do you get money from? Do demons have bank accounts?”
“We have our ways.” He waved dismissively. “The point is, I can help with your financial situation while you look for another job.”
Pride warred with practicality in my mind. On one hand, taking money from a demon seemed like the beginning of a very bad deal. On the other hand, eviction was a very real possibility.
“I can’t accept your money,” I said finally. “It feels too much like… I don’t know, payment.”
“For the sex?” Deus raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, if I were paying for that, I’d—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warned, feeling my face heat up again. “I just mean it would make things weird. Weirder than they already are with the whole demon roommate situation.”
Deus considered this, then nodded. “Fair enough. What about a loan, then? You can pay me back when you’re back on your feet.”
It was a reasonable compromise. Too reasonable, which made me suspicious.
“What’s the interest rate?” I asked cautiously. “And please don’t say ‘your soul’ or something equally dramatic.”
He laughed. “No interest. Consider it part of the favor I’m still working on.”
“Speaking of which, any progress on figuring out what that favor actually is?”
A strange expression crossed his face, there and gone so quickly I almost thought I imagined it. “Some. But nothing definitive yet.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll accept a loan, but only enough to cover rent and basic necessities until I find another job.”
“Deal.” He held out his hand.
I hesitated. “This isn’t another contract, is it? Because I’m not signing anything else with my blood.”
“Just a handshake,” he assured me. “No binding magical properties whatsoever.”
I shook his hand, trying to ignore the now-familiar tingle of energy that passed between us at the contact. His tattoos swirled around his wrist, a few tendrils briefly crossing onto my skin before retreating.
“Great,” he said brightly. “Now that that’s settled, what do you want to do with your unexpected day off? We could watch movies, go for a walk, have mind-blowing sex… the day is young.”
