My brother glares at me. At the situation. At his own helplessness and mine. His expression softens as he looks at me, but only a little. “What are you going to do?”
I look at him, all our years together rushing through my mind. Long, dark winters spent spinning by the fire while he sat by teasing the wool and sorting scraps, always begging me for another story. Bright summer days of tending the flock and avoiding his mischievous splashes while he brought in buckets of water, growing taller and stronger every season. Countless rumpled bouquets of wildflowers collected while he should’ve been gathering berries. I’ve been meaning to lengthen his cloak all summer, putting it off in case he has a final growth spurt…
The lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow, tears blurring my vision. “Whatever I have to.” I don't want to accept it anymore than he does, but I won't sit by while he's led to a noose. I've always taken care of Phillip. I'm the one who gets him out of trouble, the one who smooths things over when his rambunctious ways lead to someone’s sheep escaping. I'm the one who sweet-talks the neighbors into accepting an exchange of my yarn when he's caught pilfering in their orchard—whatever mess he finds himself in, I always manage to dig him out. Letting him down isn't an option.
But this time? I don’t know how I can do it. The thought of the Judge touching me makes me feel sick, and I fight off a fresh wave of nausea when I realize he'll also expectmeto touchhim. His gaze alone feels like unwanted fingers violating me out in the open—what vile, unthinkable things might he do in private?
"I'll figure it out, Phil. I have to. No matter what fae, god, or devil I might have to deal with—"
And then, just like that, time stops. I’m mid-breath when I feel the air grow still. Phillip and the bailiff are both frozen, unblinking, not even the shadows in the cell shimmer as the space fills with a thick blue fog.
From the fog comes a figure, stepping into the center of the cell from the mist itself. A tall, amber-eyed man with the ears and tail of a wolf and bright blue markings that twist and curve over exposed gray skin occupies the center of the swirling storm, his inhuman gaze locked on me.
Wait—me?!
The curved horns, claws tipping his fingers, and otherworldly glow coming from the marks along his arms should probably terrify me, but even his sly, predatory smile isn't as unsettling as the Judge's.
"What—who are you?"
The man tilts his head to one side, cocking an eyebrow. "Did you not say you wish to make a deal?"
"I... Well, yes..." I'm reluctant to admit my predicament before I know what I'm dealing with, but I’m not sure there’s a way to make my situation worse, so I might as well hear his proposition.
"My name is Anumar, and I'm a Dealmaker."
"A Dealmaker...?"
He exhales sharply. "A Dealmakerdemon, if you require specificity, but the important thing is I can help you."
Of all the entities I could've invited into my life, a demon is low on the list of who I want to bargain with. Then again, is the Judge any better?
"Help me how? What are your terms? Can you ensure my brother's freedom and safety? Make it so the Judge cannot retaliate?"
"Kill him, you mean? Trivial," he says, examining the backs of his claws like the conversation bores him.
I start to argue, a dispute on the tip of my tongue, but then I shut my mouth, pressing my lips together. I might not personally wish death upon the Judge, but I certainly won't mourn his loss. Few will.
"And in return?" My stomach flips, and I send a glance over to Phillip who's still frozen in time. Can he hear our conversation? I've no doubt his mind is screaming objections if so.
"A bit of your time, is all."
"My...time?" I echo. "How much time?"
Anumar's tail twitches, his wolf ears flattening against his head. "How much is your brother's life worth to you?"
"That's not—" I'm quick to correct, panic washing through me. Angering the one source of hope I’ve got…Good going, Ingrid.
"One season," he says. "See your contract through to spring and I will return you to this moment."
"One season of...what, exactly?" I ask, heart in my throat. I have no personal experience with demons, but I've heard they're the type to twist and spin words as easily as I do wool.
"Standard services; I have an array of clients with different needs ranging from domestic duties to social companions. You will not be harmed, of course, and any mistreatment is grounds for immediate termination of the agreement with no penalty to you."
My mind races with the information, piecing it together and turning it over. A few months as a maid or cook to save my brother's life seems like a deal too good to be true.
"When you say clients..."
"I mean demons, yes. Your contract will be served in my realm."
