Page 14 of The Devil in the Details

He picked up his wine and frowned. “One does not like to dine alone. It’s not civilized.”

Sure. That made as much sense as anything.

“Eat,” Malgraxon said, only now all the coaxing had vanished. It was an order.

Zelda picked up the fork and dug into the risotto. It was superb. Everything was fantastic. She remained silent. Malgraxon apparently didn’t care, holding up her side of the conversation. He chatted about nothing in particular, from a documentary hewatched on famous art thefts on Earth, to her favorite flower, and an amusing anecdote about his tailor.

The whole evening was surreal. A Daimoni was in her tiny apartment, had spent a small fortune on a new wardrobe for her, and brought her dinner for no reason more serious than he didn’t want to dine alone.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“You see, merino wool is perfectly serviceable, but this is vicuna. The quality is entirely different.”

“Not about your clothes. My clothes. The dresses. The wine. All of this.” She touched the necklace.

His swirling black and blue eyes gazed at her. “This is the bargain we struck. The ruin of Walker Rocheford for your kiss.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to give her a straight answer.

“Why did you come here tonight? Sure, you wanted the secrets of my instant mix hot chocolate, but I ain’t buying that,” she said.

Malgraxon refilled his wine glass and leaned back in his chair, swirling the red contents. “When we attend Amiron Yan’s party, it is imperative that we are comfortable in each other’s company.”

Zelda turned that over. “You mean I acted weird at the dress shop, and you want me to relax.”

“Precisely. You must chill.”

She laughed. It wasn’t funny, a demon sitting at her rickety table, drinking wine that cost more than she wanted to know, telling her to chill. “How is this a fair trade? What’s in it for you?” There was a trick, always a trick with the Daimoni.

His eyes went black. “Revenge,” he said.

“Revenge,” Zelda repeated, because that made no sense. “Against Walker?”

“Amiron.”

Okay, that made sense. Zelda recalled how Malgraxon had seemed unusually interested in her situation. “If you want revenge against him, you don’t need my help.” Certainly not a scheme that involved them being comfortable in each other’s presence or whatever it was he had planned.

“Unfortunately, even my kind must abide by rules. I cannot move against Amiron directly, as much as I wish to smite the slippery male.”

Interesting. Malgraxon had rules he had to play by. There was a ton of lore about the Daimoni but few actual facts. “So you’ll come at him indirectly through Walker?”

“A happy coincidence.”

Somehow, she doubted that.

“What did Amiron do?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She really doubted that.

She must not have much of a poker face because Malgraxon said, “We had a bargain. I fulfilled my end of the contract, and he avoided the consequences of his.”

“He outmaneuvered you. Learn to lose gracefully.”

His expression grew dark and dangerous. For just a second, no longer than a heartbeat, black fog steamed from his eyes and his shirt collar. His human face dissolved, and she saw a skull wearing a crown of horns.

“He eluded our bargain once, but I will bind him to an obligation that not even he can escape,” Malgraxon said, his voice deep and resonating in her chest.

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