“Ew,” I sneered. “Don’t call him that. He already acts way more important than he actually is. Don't inflate his ego.”
“Dany.”
“Barb.”
“Have you not met the terms of your agreement with the devil?”
“That's what I'm trying to tell you, Barbara. I need help finding one of them.”
“Howmany are there?”
“Alive? One. Total? Three.”
“What was the exact deal you made with Him?”
“That's a bit personal don't you think?”
It was taboo in our world to talk about the deals struck between demonkind and Lucifer. Most demons felt like the bond was their one personal, intimate connection with their Recreator. I tended to disagree and, if I were the gambling sort, would bet a pretty penny that Luci felt the same way. Our deal was a business transaction. Not a love affair.
“Perhaps to some. Not to you.”
“You sound so sure of that.”
“You have zero boundaries, Dany. Don't be coy.”
“Fine,” I conceded like it was a bother. “Three souls in exchange for eternity.”
Perplexity deepened her scowl. “But four humans died that night.”
“Yyyes,” I drew out, confused. “I literally just told you that.”
“So if four humans died that night, why do you only owe him three souls?”
“I don’t know Barb, I don’t making the fucking rules! Maybe I never had a soul to give. Or maybe it was so worthless to Lucifer that he was nah girl, you don’t have to pay me back for that one, it was going in the garbage anyway,” I said matter-of-factly, even though I'd never actually come to terms with that. The joke tasted like acid the second it left my mouth. If mine didn’t count, it was because it never had. It meant thatInever had. Unwanted is easier to wear when no one says it out loud.
Barb started clicking away on her computer, satisfied with my information or feeling sorry for my dead-ass, the world may never know.
My stomach soured when old newspaper clippings of my death came up on every monitor.
“Runaway Teen Found Dead Years Later.”
“Murder or Misfortune?
“Coal Mine Cold Case.”
I wanted to say something sassy. To ask her how she knew my last name for the search or how she found it so quickly. Instead, I just stared.
“Brutal,” she stated, her voice so calm and clinical it knotted my insides.
I liked to forget sometimes that Barb didn't experience human emotion.Sometimes, I even liked to pretend that I couldn't either. It made moments like these easier to stomach. Usually, it worked. Tonight, however? As my past life stared down on me, I felt that deep chasm between us.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Brutal.”
Barbed hacked into the local police files and sorted through photos of my crime scene. Snapshots taken to record every angle of my death. Beer bottles and cans of Diet Coke were scattered around a broken, naked body that laid face down on a forgotten gravel road.
Vomit burned as if my new body felt the ghost of those bottles crammed so far down my throat that it forced my chin up. Old aches and bruises throbbed, and the misery of that night rode in on a phantom breeze.
“You’re dead, girl.” Barb’s voice intruded on my spiral. “Satan is a master of many things, but even he cannot manipulate time. Living in the past will do you no favors.”
