Page 11 of The Devil in the Details

Yeah, that’s what she was worried about.

“What was so important that you had to sell your soul?” Geneva asked.

“You already heard about my ex. You know what he did.”

“Revenge? That’s all?”

All?Walker changed the trajectory of her life. She had a good career she enjoyed and friends. After the museum robbery, her job was gone and the friends turned out to not be friends at all and abandoned, and Walker just walked away.

A better person might philosophize thateverything worked out in the endandthings happened for a reason.

Well, Zelda wasn’t a better person. She burned to get a bit of her own back. Walker needed to suffer. He needed to share her pain. If she had to sell her soul to a demon to make that happen, so be it.

“Yeah, I’m basic like that,” Zelda said.

Geneva shook her head, as if disappointed. “Revenge won’t be the solution you want.”

They were going to have to agree to disagree. Zelda knew the deal with Malgraxon would be worth it. Walker would get what he had coming and she could finally move on.

She hoped.

The midnight-blue dressalong with every item she tried on in the shop and many, many accessories arrived the next day. Zelda found the selection of underwear intimidating. They were lovely pieces with delicate little scraps of silk and lace designed to make the most of her ample rear. No doubt the bill was more expensive than a month’s rent. They were completely impractical. She was more of a boring, high-waisted panties with built-in support kind of gal and resisted the urge to try on the silky undergarments.

The temptation of the red satin dress proved harder to resist. Zelda held the gown against herself, studying her reflection. The dress was strapless with a structured waist and layers of fluffy petticoats underneath. She couldn’t ever imagine needing to wear such a dress, yet she desperately wanted to try it on and maybe do a little twirl. She had the underwear already out of the box and, really, it didn’t hurt to slip the dress on…

Someone pounded on her apartment door.

Zelda flinched, tossing the dress back to the pile of too expensive and too fancy gowns that Malgraxon bought for her. She tugged on an old sweater and leggings.

The pounding continued. If the building’s AI worked, the face recognition would send her a notice about who was trying to beat down her door. As it was, Zelda had to do it the old-fashioned way and check the screen next to the door.

Malgraxon stood outside, holding a carryout cup in one hand and a carrier loaded with more cups in the other.

Zelda took a deep breath before entering the code to open the door.

Back again. She really didn’t understand why and feared Geneva had been correct about Mel sinking his claws into her.

“Explain,” he demanded, shoving a disposable cup in her face.

“Well, hello to you too.” She took the warm cup. The aroma of chocolate wafted up. “What am I explaining?”

“I have sampled several hot chocolates, and they are all inferior.Explain.” Malgraxon brushed past her to stand in the center of her tiny apartment. His form waivered, and his face morphed into one with a crown of horns. A dark mist rolled across the floor.

Fishtopher the cat did not appreciate this and fled to the safety of the bedroom with a hiss.

Zelda looked at the carrier filled with multiple cups. “They don’t make theirs with love?”

He huffed. “Love is not a palatable ingredient.”

“And yet—” She took a sip of the hot chocolate. It wasn’t bad, but the chocolate was weaker than she liked.

“A trade,” he said. “Teach me your secret and I will prepare a meal for you.”

“You can cook?”

He gave a weary sigh. “Yes. I would not have survived these centuries if I were unable to feed myself.” Centuries? She started to ask, but he made a grumbling noise. “A Daimoni lifespan is not the same as a human’s,” he said.

“But centuries? How old are you?”

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