The Duchess’s blackberry lips spread into a genuine smile, eyes sparkling nearly as much as the clean lines of her glittering jumpsuit and cape. She waved for Azrames to take the answer.
“Mar,” he said, deadpan amusement curling the edges of his question as he asked, “did you sell your soul?”
Invisible fists grabbed for my stomach and lungs, making me nauseous and breathless all at once as I shook my head. “Of course not. Right? I didn’t, did I?”
He chuckled, returning his dark eyes to Kirby. “No,” he clarified. “Most witches dedicate themselves to their practice. Their devotional offerings are ones of worship. Sometimes it’s wine, or coffee, or incense, or blood. Some demons want more taxing things as shows of devotion, like labor, discipline, or sex. Others, like the Duchess, just want you to dedicate the excellence you put into your craft to their name. With our Mar here, she’s given her love, her time, her heart. I’d normally say Caliban’s getting the better end of the bargain in terms of who gets what, but he does far more for her than open a few doors for her business arrangements. He negotiates allegiances with kingdoms, makes back-alley deals with angels, murders goddesses, starts wars for her…you know, the things you do for the love of all of your lives.”
Kirby had paled, but they did their best to pretend any of this made sense. “See?” They cleared their throat. “I knew there was something suspicious about you becoming a famous author overnight.”
My heart fluttered, caught between intrigue and fear as Duchess Vapula held up a pointed, perfect finger. I felt so naked as I sucked in a breath, anxiety blotting my forehead, the back of my neck, the space between my breasts with sweat.
“Now, wait,” she cautioned.
Kirby looked at the Duchess as if the demoness were a vampire about to suck them dry.
Instead, the Duchess elaborated, “Marlow wrote the novels. She came up with the ideas. She paid her dues.”
“EG might not agree,” I mumbled beneath my breath. I certainly wasn’t pulling my weight in the industry at the moment. I’d check in when I could, but for now, as far as mypublisher and the world knew, I was laying low after a very public doxing scandal.
The Duchess finished, “Working with demons isn’tcheating. It’s an exchange. She loves her Prince, and he loves her in return in as many ways as he can.”
“What did Betty get?” I asked, hoping to change the topic away from Caliban and the Pantheon books.
Azrames’s happy, relaxed posture fell to hardened steel. “She wanted nothing from Hell, save for a job well done,” he said. “Her bills are paid by humans. She and I are partners.”
Duchess Vapula took a few careful steps. She rested a hand lightly on Azrames’s, allowing it to grace his bicep before it fell to her side. “And she deserved better than the fate that’s befallen her,” the Duchess said. As I watched the respectful, intimate exchange, I wondered if Azrames and his work were as famous within the court of the Infernal Divine as they’d been with Caliban and the King.
It was Nia who interrupted the moment.
“Do you have an address for this designer? If we’re going to get moving, we should have a firm plan, right?”
The Duchess pulled away. She waved a finger, and Priscilla’s face scrunched in response as if smoke had been blown into her open eyes. “Michael changed his name to Adrien Vail a few years ago. He’s everything Givenchy wishes they were. He’s a shining jewel in my crown, yes, but he’s earned everything he’s accomplished. You’ll understand once you wear his name on your back. Now, go. Meet me in Manhattan. And…look better when you do.”
The Duchess disappeared as if she’d never been there at all.
Priscilla was the first to rise. “That was my Infernal patroness, Duchess Vapula. You’re welcome.”
I suppressed the urge to clap. Instead, I looked at my friends.
“Are they all that hot?” Kirby asked breathlessly.
“Devastatingly so.”
Nia set her jaw. “Give me a moment to call Darius. We’ll hit the Luxury outlets on Hudson, get blowouts at the glamour bar, and should be able to make it to the tattoo shop by Kirbs’s place for walk-ins before they close.”
“Is it safe?” I asked.
Xuân flicked her finger. “Now that you’ve called in the cavalry, you’ve never been safer.”
Az flashed bright, white teeth. “They’re my favorites.”
I sucked in a breath. “You really want to get this tattooed? There’s no going back, Nia. Once you lift the veil—”
“Ignorance is no one’s fault,” she said. “But now, I know. If I go back, I’m closing my eyes to the truth. Willful ignorance is a separate sin entirely. But, first things first.”
“The Duchess said she’d get us dressed.” I frowned. “I don’t know if we have to make a stop by the mall.”
Nia laughed, looking at all of us in our slovenly, mismatched attire. “This Givenchy-in-training is dressing us for a major event. You think I want to walk into his studio looking like we came out of the suburbs?”
