Page 1 of The Devil in the Details

CHAPTER 1

ZELDA

This was a terrible idea. Just the worst. Also, illegal. The only problem was, Zelda couldn’t think of a better plan. So her choice was to go with the terrible, highly illegal plan, or learn to live with Walker Rocheford getting away with ruining her life.

She couldn’t let it go. She tried but the need for justice burned inside her. It kept her up at night. Therapy was a nice idea but Zelda didn’t have therapy money, hence her situation with the choice between an illegal plan or learning to live with it.

Honestly, it wasn’t a choice at all. The terrible plan was her only option.

Zelda took a deep breath. Her hands shook as she took up the chalk. The circle she laid was lopsided, the line wavered, but there were no gaps. Did penmanship—chalkmanship?—matter when summoning a demon? Probably not. It was an unbroken circle. All the sources agreed that was the important part.

She placed her offering of salt and herbs in the center, lit a candle, and spoke. “I appeal to the Daimoni. I seek vengeance. Walker Rocheford must pay for his sins.”

Zelda waited, feeling foolish. What was she doing? The summoning ritual made no sense. This was the modern age. The Daimoni weren’t demons. They were aliens. Yes, they had a long history of contact with humanity before humanity had even been to Earth’s moon. How long a history? Nearly every language on Earth had a variation of their name: demon.

The Daimoni were shapeshifters, tricksters, and bargain makers. Most importantly, they liked humans, or at least liked toying with humans. Allegedly, they considered humans to be adorable little pets.

They traded wishes for a person’s soul, first-born child, or something equally precious. They couldn’t be trusted. They’d trick you into a contract, honor it to the letter but not the spirit, and screw you over. Everyone knew that. They were chaotic evil lawyers. Worse.

Bargains with the Daimoni had been outlawed for decades for good reason. Don’t make deals with a demon.

Yet here she was, sitting in her living room in a summoning circle, because she was desperate and too petty to let her anger go.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I’m ridiculous.”

Of course this wouldn’t work. Summoning an alien demon with a candle and items raided from her kitchen? The Daimoni were shapeshifters and possibly telepathic—how else did they find desperate people? They lurked in shadows, mingled with peoplewhile wearing false faces, and waited until they spotted a mark. They didn’t appear out of thin air.

Obviously.

The summoning ritual was nothing more than a test to identify the gullible. Well, good job, Zelda. She was as gullible as they come.

“It’s fine,” Zelda said, rising to her feet. “Walker Rocheford stole a priceless cultural treasure, ruined my reputation, and replaced me with another woman, and it’s fine. I don’t need your help. I’ll leave nasty reviews online. I’ll post bad photos of him. I’ve got one where he’s slightly less stunning than usual, so that’ll show him.”

She couldn’t prove that Walker had been behind the theft, but she knew it in her gut. Someone used her keycard and knew her passcode. No one else had access. Of course, Walker was with her when the actual robbery happened, but there had been something in his eyes when she received a visit from the police after the fact. Anticipation. He had known.

Rumors lingered after the investigation cleared her. The museum didn’t fire her for the break-in, but she was let go shortly after for bullshit reasons.

The end result being, she lost her job, her apartment, and her friends.

“He has to pay,” she said quietly.

A mist filled the room. Zelda panicked, fearing a leaking gas line or a contaminated atmosphere. Her apartment building wasn’t exactly up to code. She needed to find her cat and leave.

The overhead lights flickered, then went out. The candle provided the only illumination in the room. The flame wavered, then snuffed out. Darkness surrounded her.

“Zelda Kniffen, you called me here for petty revenge?” a deep voice asked.

She jumped back. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

A chuckle made the hair on her arms stand on end. The menace was off the charts.

“I was invited,” he said.

“You’re a Daimoni.”

Her eyes adjusted to the dark. There was a large figure in the middle of her circle. Large was being polite. Massive better described the being.

There was a massive demon in her living room.

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