“Ava…”
“No.” She didn’t look at Victor. Kept her eyes on Andromalius. “Those are my terms. A century of my service, life extended as necessary. In exchange for the idol.”
Andromalius was quiet. Then he smiled, and for the first time, it looked almost genuine.
“Counter-offer,” he said. “Fifty years. Split between you. Twenty-five each, served concurrently after your natural death.” He looked between them. “You clearly can’t stand the thought of the other one sacrificing alone. This way, you both pay. You both serve. And you get to do it together.”
Victor’s hand found hers again.
“Deal,” they said together.
Andromalius produced a contract from thin air. Parchment that hadn’t existed a moment ago, words writing themselves in fire across the surface. Two signature lines at the bottom.
Victor signed first. Silver blood from his fingertip, leaving a mark that glowed and faded.
Ava signed second. Her blood was red, ordinary, human, but where it touched the parchment, it turned gold. The chains’ influence, marking even this.
The contract flared once and vanished.
Andromalius slid the idol across the table.
“The Eternal Bazaar,” he said. “Marchosias holds court in the Grand Hall at midnight. Show this to the guards at the entrance. They’ll take you straight to him.”
Victor pocketed the idol. “Why did you really help us?”
Andromalius was quiet. For a moment, Ava thought he wouldn’t answer.
“Because I’m curious,” he said finally. “A human who bound herself to Hell to save her family. A Morningstar who came back after six thousand years for a woman he’s known less than a month.” He shook his head. “Either you’re both fools, or youknow something the rest of us don’t. I want to see which one it is.”
“That’s it? Curiosity?”
“In Hell, curiosity is currency.” Andromalius raised his refilled glass. “Now go. You have a Duke to argue with.”
They left the booth, descended the stairs, pushed back onto the street where neon signs buzzed and flickered against the red-black sky.
The chains pulled harder with every step, dragging Ava toward the Eternal Bazaar. Toward Marchosias. Toward the argument that would determine whether she spent eternity in service to a Duke of Hell.
Victor walked beside her, the golden idol heavy in his pocket, her hand tight in his.
“Twenty-five years,” she said as they walked. “You and me.”
“Every step of the way.” He squeezed her hand. “Though I’m fairly certain Andromalius got the better end of that deal.”
“Probably. But at least we’ll be bored together.”
“There are worse fates.”
The Eternal Bazaar rose ahead of them, a structure that seemed to grow out of the bedrock itself, towers of black stone and red glass reaching toward the burning sky. Banners flew from every spire, crimson and gold, announcing the celebration in scripts that hurt to read. Crowds thronged the approaches, demons of every shape and size pressing toward the great gates.
Marchosias’s court. Five hundred years in the making.
And somewhere inside, a Duke waited to claim her soul.
The chains pulled harder as they approached, the golden light beneath her skin blazing bright enough to draw stares from passing demons. She was close now. So close that she could almost feel Marchosias’s attention turning toward her, a vast and ancient awareness registering her presence like a spider sensing vibration on its web.
“Ready?” Victor asked.
Ava looked at the chains glowing beneath her skin. Felt the pull behind her sternum, stronger now than ever. Thought about her parents, free now because of what she’d done. About Victor, walking into Hell for her. About the twenty-five years they’d both promised to a demon they barely knew, just for the chance to argue.
