“Of course you do, dear. What are you going to give me in return?”
“Give you? Give you…like what?” I was going to strangle Constantine for not explaining this better.
“Knowledge is power, and you know people tend to die for power.” He was caressing his drink as he spoke.
“Sorry, death is out of the question. House rule. I can’t kill anyone, and I’m sure that includes me.” I was definitely not making a deal with the devil.
“Oh, really? You might need to share that rule with some of your peeps. But no, I was thinking something more enjoyable.” The devil’s eyes ran down the length of my body. I was sure I was blushing, but I was not going to look away. I could do arrogant with the best of them.
“What do you have in mind?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. I was not going to volunteer for anything. Constantine had said to let him spell things out. Don’t fill in blanks, or I would not get a straight answer.
“Defiant. Death made an interesting choice with you. Some entertainment. How about a dance-off? It is a club, after all.” The devil was playing with me. Great. A dance-off didn’t sound so bad.
“Fine.” I hadn’t gone all the way down there for nothing.
“That’s the spirit, dear. On the main stage, of course. Oh, be careful with the competition. They fight dirty.” He sounded mischievous.
I walked back down the staircase and headed to the main stage without looking back. I was met by a pair of tough-looking chicks at the edge of the stage.
“Song?” a bad chick with crazy, spiky pink hair asked me. Her twin had spiky blue hair. At least they were wearing clothes, even if they were see-through. Oh, I got to pick my own funeral anthem. Great.
“Chris Brown’s ‘Look at Me Now.’” If I was going to die, I was to do it my way.
They both smiled and walked to the DJ. I made my way up on the stage. Of course, like every horrible dream most people had, the entire place was dead, and still everyone was staring at me. The devil leaned down over his balcony and smiled as Chris’s lyrics started: “You can’t hate from outside the club. You can’t even get in.” I figured he would appreciate the reference. He did.
The music started, and I let the beat and the flow take me. The acoustics in this place were mind-blowing. I closed my eyes and went down my own routine. I moved from shoulder rolls to butterflies to Chris’s own moves. I had been twerking before Miley knew the meaning of the word. It didn’t hurt that I had spent months memorizing the routine to this song. I could have given Chris Brown a run for his money here. Of course, shaking my ass and flaunting my moves was too easy—dancing came natural to me. To make things interesting, the devil added a few sword-waving, dancing ninjas. I hated ninjas.
“Poles!” I yelled at the DJ. With a wink, I had stripper poles rise from the floor. My upper-body strength might have sucked, but I had a hell of a roundhouse. Only in a place like this would the stage have been stocked with stripper poles ready for the calling.
This was my show, and I wasn’t going down that easily. I timed my moves to Busta Rhymes’s lyrics and slammed my opponents with a kick to the chest. The crowd went wild. I slid to the left and then back to the right, ending with a Matrix bend to avoid the blade over my head. I just needed to survive this song—all four minutes of it. I was doing great at avoiding the swords, sliding down the poles, and throwing kicks. My boy Lil Wayne came on, so it was time to shut this mess down. I moon danced to the side and grabbed one of the silk ropes from the ceiling. I wrapped my arms around the silk, took a leap off the stage, spun around, and kicked one of the ninjas in the face. I wasn’t planning to kill anyone, but I was winning this contest. I released the silk, did a quick roll back to the center, and twerked the rest of the song off. I was sweating to death, but I was still standing.
Why weren’t those witches challenging me to a dance-off? I got this! The crowd was going nuts, and the devil was smiling. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He gave me a bow, and I hopped off the stage. I wasn’t planning to push my luck. I took the stairs two at a time.
“Impressive. I did not see that coming.” The devil was smiling a very dangerous smile. He handed me a drink, which I really wanted since I was parched.
“No, thank you, sir.” Constantine had said not to drink from any open container.
“Of course. I’m sure Constantine gave you the warning.” I just smiled. “How about a bottle of water? Not open.” Could you trust the devil? He probably read the look on my face. “I’m still a business owner. If people can’t trust the water, they’ll stop coming.” He was a true capitalist.
“I’ll take the water. So what should I call you?”
He handed me a bottle and gave me the most innocent smile. “Call me Jake.”
I almost spit my water. “So, Jake. Jake? Really?”
“I’ve always liked the name Jacob. So much history behind it.” Oh yeah, he was arrogant to the core.
“Fair enough. So tell me, Jake, are the witches working for you?” I was too tired to play any more games.
“Sorry, Isis. Not mine.”
“What?” All that work for nothing. “Are you sure?” If they weren’t his, who were they working for it?
“They’re independent.” Was he reading my mind? “Besides, killing a bunch of people in my name doesn’t get me anything. Those
