“Listen, Conrad. You know that Dante and I, as Reapers, cannot force you to give up that body, right?”
“Yes, I’m counting on it.”
“Okay. You always taught me to find common ground when negotiating, so we can both agree on that, right?”
Conrad looked both proud of himself for having mentored me well and suspicious as hell for where I was going with this. Conrad, you put the “con” in conflicted.
Finally he jerked his head up and down once. “Go on.”
“Okay. And you may know that the reason Dante and I haven’t taken Shannon’s soul back to Hell with us to file a Wrongful Termination Appeal is because of how long it took me to get my Wrongful Reapage Appeal through the system.”
“And it was denied,” he tossed in my face with glee.
“And it was denied. So we don’t want to take that chance. We’re hoping instead that you’ll see reason and give your daughter her body back voluntarily.”
“Not going to happen,” he said conversationally. He was beginning to enjoy this since he held all the cards.
“But giving Shannon’s body back to its rightful owner voluntarily will reflect positively on you when you do get to Hell. It’s the same ‘icing’ logic as you applied to saving Theresa today.”
“I’m not worrying that far in the future. I’ll have years between now and when this body grows old and dies. I’ll find someone else to give me an extension between now and then.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Conrad.” Dante had joined the conversation. He could see where I was going with this even if Conrad hadn’t yet figured it out. Of course Dante knew how Hell worked whereas Conrad didn’t. “I’m going to have to check in shortly or they’ll send someone looking for us. Our scythes have GPS trackers in them so we can’t run, we can’t hide.”
“So you’ll get in trouble. What’s that to me?”
“There are a lot more powerful people in Hell than us Reapers. Just because Kirsty and I can’t evict you from Shannon’s body doesn’t mean there aren’t some terrible and powerful beings that can. Remember Charon the ferryman you met when we brought you in? Do you really want to run afoul of him?”
Conrad began to look worried. I noticed Shannon’s manicure was a wreck—even worse than back in the precinct when he’d been picking at the plastic cuffs. Conrad had chewed Shannon’s nails down to the quick. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as he’d seemed all along.
He opened his mouth to speak, closing it again without saying anything. I could almost hear the synapses of Shannon’s brain firing. Finally, he said, “Let ’em come. I don’t believe you. I’m a demon myself now, and other than being big and scary, the gig doesn’t seem to come with any special powers other than body possession. So I think you’re lying. The only reason you haven’t reported in and got this imaginary backup to come evict me is that they don’t exist. All that’s going to happen to you when you go report in is you’ll get in trouble. Ha!”
“Are you sure about that, Conrad? Are you willing to risk your
Now we wait. Let that percolate.
Conrad walked away from the bars and began pacing the length of his cell, muttering, probably forming and discarding plans. He paced and muttered, muttered and paced.
I was beginning to lose patience when he finally snapped his fingers and returned to stand before us. His eyes glittered like cheap black diamonds, accented with a little bit of red from the petechial hemorrhaging. Did I mention I watched a lot of
“All right. Here’s what I’m willing to do. If you can get someone else to sign that contract amendment granting me twenty-five more years, then I’ll vacate this body. Whether Shannon gets back into it or not is up to you.”
Bingo. This was going according to plan.
“And when those twenty-five more years are up, you’ll come quietly?” Dante asked.
“I’m going to be honest with you because I believe you’ve been honest with me. I will try and get another extension before then, but if I can’t, then yes, I’ll come quietly.”
Beside me, I heard Dante whispering, then to me he said, “Shannon says the amendment is in her office. Kirsty, do you have Theresa’s cell phone?”
I patted my pockets and discovered an early-model iPhone in a pink plastic case. Pink. Huh. I never would have considered Theresa the pink type. I checked the charge and the reception—nearly full and four out of five bars. It was a miracle. I checked over my shoulder in case it actually was, but angels, fallen or otherwise, were noticeable by their absence.
Good.
“Here.” I thrust the phone through the bars. “Call Willa and tell her to bring the contract amendment to the courthouse tomorrow.”
Conrad dialed from memory—had it only been days since he’d been CEO of Iver PR? I screwed up my forehead and counted on my fingers. There was the day he and I had died, then the week Hell had skipped when the time engineers had jump-started the time-syncing machine, then the day Shannon had been arrested. Then the bail hearing. Ten days. I shook my head. Ten days from my death to now. It seemed so much longer, even taking the missed week into account.
Conrad left a terse order on Willa’s office voice mail.
“There,” he said. “She’ll hear that when she gets in tomorrow and bring the amendment to me.” He pocketed the phone and frankly, I didn’t care. Let him call all the lawyers and press conferences his evil heart desired.
“So to be clear,” I said, grasping the bars and leaning into them. My throat hurt and I was worried I might strain my injured vocal cords and end up unable to speak at all. “When Willa brings the contract amendment by, I’ll sign it in blood—Theresa Mudders’ blood—and the soul of Theresa Mudders, which is standing right here next to Shannon, will be sacrificed so you can have twenty-five more years.”
Dante looked at me sharply. I willed him not to say anything and for once, it worked.
“Sure, whatever. I don’t care who, as long as there’s blood on the signature line.”
“And at that time, you’ll vacate Shannon’s body for this one and we’ll do what we can to re-ensoul Shannon.”
“I said so already, didn’t I?”
“Conrad Percival Iver, on behalf of her benighted Underlordship, Lucy Phurr, I hereby decree that thou hast made a Deal to which thou must sticketh.” I spat on my hand and held it out.
“Deal.” A smarmy grin spread over the face Conrad wore, as he too spat on his borrowed palm and clasped it against mine. A single pump was enough for me and I ripped my hand away, wiping it on Theresa’s uniform.
“Get some sleep,” I told him. “You’ve got your day in court tomorrow.”
I turned on my heel and stalked back the way I’d come. Dante awaited me in the deserted corridor again. “Kirsty, what are you up to? You know we can’t make Deals without official sanction and you lied about Theresa’s soul being available for trade.”
It was my turn to smile smugly. “That’s right, Fred.” He started at my use of a name other than his. “But in spite of that, I just made a helluva Deal. Lucy would be so proud.”
Or would she? Was taking the devil’s name in vain one of the seven deadly sins?
Clearing the Heir
I STALKED AWAY from Dante, returning to my room in the prison infirmary.
“Everything okay, Theresa?” The night nurse stuck his head in.
“Who? Oh, yes, of course. Thanks, uh, Jim.” I hoped I’d gotten his name right and not sounded like I’d hit my head. I needed to be given a clean bill of health in order to accompany Conrad to court tomorrow.
I lay in bed staring at the wall clock. Even it was behind bars. They must have worried it would make a
