Page 10 of The Devil in the Details

ZELDA

The next day, Geneva pounced on Zelda the moment she walked in the door.

“Come with me,” the older woman said, grabbing her arm tight enough that Zelda understood she had no choice.

Once in the back, she barked at Zelda to have a seat while she futzed with the coffee machine.

Zelda perched on the edge of the remarkably uncomfortable folding chair. Of course she was in full panic mode, worried Geneva knew and hoping she somehow didn’t.

The back room was packed rather tightly with a desk buried under invoices, a counter with just enough space and equipment to reheat a meal or make coffee, a rickety folding table with two chairs, and boxes—lots and lots of boxes stacked on the floor and packed onto shelves.

“What did you promise him?” Geneva demanded. She leaned against the counter while the coffee machine went through itsmachinations, arms folded over her chest. The harsh overhead light cast an unflattering glow across her complexion.

“Him who?” Zelda asked, feigning innocence, which was harder than it sounded because Zelda suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands. Was she blinking too much? Did she just wink at her boss?

Geneva tossed her a sharp look. “Don’t be clever and stop winking. The demon.”

So she knew. Zelda had been expecting it. Geneva was far too shrewd to miss a demon strolling into her shop.

“Nothing much,” Zelda said.

“It’s never nothing much.”

“I’m not answering.” The last thing she’d ever admit was that the demon asked for a kiss.

“I could fire you,” Geneva threatened casually as she poured the fresh brew.

“You won’t,” Zelda replied, acting a lot braver than she felt. “How did you know, anyway?”

With a tired sigh, Geneva carried two mugs of coffee towards the folding table and sank into the other chair, the metal groaning with age. “You deal with a Daimoni long enough and you pick up on their tells.”

Zelda accepted the mug. “I knew you’d never give me an afternoon off. Did Mal threaten you?”

“Mal? That’s the creature’s name?”

Zelda didn’t appreciate the way Geneva referred to Mal as a creature. He wasn’t human but he was still a living being. “What did he say to you?”

Geneva waved a hand absently. “Some song and dance about it being your birthday. Sugar?”

Zelda reached for the caddy but Geneva pulled it back at the last moment. She said, “Sugar is for good girls who answer the question.”

Fine. Zelda could drink her coffee black. She sipped, grimaced because the shop’s coffee maker scorched the beans, and took another sip. Spite motivated most of her actions and Zelda really needed to rethink that.

“How do you know so much about Daimoni, anyway?” she asked.

Geneva tore open a packet and dumped the contents into her mug. “Look, I appreciate the need for cagey answers, but we’re just going around in circles. Let’s just say that I have some experience in these matters.”

Zelda had a hundred questions. She must have looked like she was about to burst because Geneva continued, “So when I tell you to be careful, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m careful.” Another bitter sip.

“That fact that you won’t tell me the price tells me all I need to know.” Geneva pushed the caddy towards her, almost as a peace offering.

Ouch. That hit too close to home.

“I’m willing to pay the price,” Zelda said.

“Be careful. Daimoni can’t be trusted. They twist words and won’t let go once they get their claws in you.”

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