The demon laughed. It was a real laugh, warm and genuine, and it was the most unsettling sound Greg had ever heard. “I admire the energy, I really do. But you're negotiating from a position of nothing. You have nothing I want and you're asking me to give up something I already own.” He spread his hands. “What could you possibly offer me?”
The cemetery was quiet. Greg could hear his own heartbeat, beating more frantically than it had any right to.
Dustin's expression changed.
“My soul,” he said.
No!
Everything inside Greg screamed. Dustin could not be giving away his soul. His soul was beautiful. It was lifetimes of love and grief and reckless, stupid courage, and Dustin was standing there offering it up like loose change.
The demon tilted his head.
“Your soul,” he repeated, tasting the word. He looked at Dustin with something close to pity. “That's a generous offer. Dramatic, even. I approve of the gesture.” He stepped closer, examining Dustin with great scrutiny.
His nose wrinkled.
“No,” he said.
Dustin blinked. “No?”
“Your soul has been marinating in my magic for three years.” The demon flicked his fingers dismissively. “It's… tainted. It's like gas station sushi. Technically the right thing, but Iwouldn't eat it.”
Dustin gaped at the demon. “What the hell are you saying?”
“I don't want it,” the demon repeated with finality. “It would be like buying a painting I've already painted on. Where's the value in that?”
Dustin stared at him. Greg could imagine him struggling to process that the one card he had to play was worthless.
Silence stretched across the cemetery.
Eventually, the demon sighed. “Well,” he said. “This has been fun. But if that's all you've got…”
“Wait.”
The word left Greg's mouth before the thought had finished forming.
The demon turned. So did Dustin.
Greg's heart was slamming.
“What about a reaper's soul?” he asked.
Both the demon and Dustin stared at him.
“Freely given,” Greg continued, because if he stopped talking he would lose his nerve. “I'm sure you've never had one. And I know it's not — it's not much, compared to a human soul, but it's rare. You're a collector, aren't you?” His voice steadied as he found the argument. “When's the last time someone offered you something unprecedented?”
The demon hadn't moved. His smile was gone.
He was thinking.
“A reaper's soul,” the demon said quietly.
“In exchange for voiding Cathy's contract.”
“Greg, stop,” Dustin said. His voice had an edge Greg had never heard before. “You're not doing this.”
Greg didn't look at him. He couldn't. If he looked at Dustin he would see his face and he would stop and then they would drive home with nothing and Cathy would dieand then Dustin would die and Greg would have kept his thin, worthless, temporary soul and lost everything it had ever cared about.
