“There’s a portal open to Hell.Hell, she said, Myra. And you don’t want to keep an eye on the only demon in town? You want me to go off on my own, maybe show up at the portal before any of you? Left to my own devices?”
I scowled. I hated it when he was right. I wanted to keep a close eye on him.
Lucky for me, I could pass the time grilling the only demon in town about portals to Hell.
“What was I thinking?” I said. “How silly of me. Of course you can ride with me. Let’s go.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you going to do, Myra Reed? I hope you don’t think crashing this car into a telephone pole would kill me.”
Strange that he’d jumped to homicide, but I was more than happy to follow that line of thinking.
“No?” I started the engine and eased out of the parking lot, following Ryder’s truck. He switched on his light bar, blue and red flashing, and I did the same.
No sirens yet, but if the road was too crowded—which it shouldn’t be on a Wednesday morning in September—we’d go in sirens wailing.
“So tell me,” I said, “what would kill you?”
He relaxed into the seat and flicked his blunt fingernail over the edge of the dash, as if there were a bug there.
There wasn’t. I kept a clean and orderly car just like I kept a clean and orderly life.
“Nothing. There’s a thing here and there which might damage me,” he said, “but I haven’t found anything that could kill me.”
Lie.
“Not even vehicular accidents?”
“No.”
“Beheading?”
“No. I am whichever shape I choose. I wouldn’t construct such simple vulnerabilities.”
Interesting.
“I don’t suppose stabbing you in the heart would do anything?”
“Ah, Myra. It’s sweet you think I have a heart.”
“I don’t.”
He hummed like he didn’t believe me.
“What about those scissors?” I asked.
“Which scissors?”
He knew exactly which scissors. “The ones your mother made that can somehow cut a soul out of your possession and will do you great harm?”
“Allegedly can cut a soul out of my possession. And will do the user great harm.”
“Allegedly,” I said.
“I’d need to see the scissors to know if they are the ones my mother made for my enemies to use against me.”
Not happening.
“She sounds just terrific, by the way,” I muttered, “your mother.”
