Sixth Grave on the Edge Read online

  But I had to remember, this wasn’t really the demon. This was the unfortunate human the demon had chosen to possess. So the beauty that encased him was stolen, just like the souls from which he took nourishment.

  He seemed just as fascinated by me. He’d focused all his attention on me the moment I arrived, and rarely looked away. At any other time, that kind of constant inspection would be unnerving. Tonight it was intriguing.

  The only thing that broke the spell was a darkness that even I could see. It escaped him when he turned his head too quickly or leaned forward too abruptly. The darkness, the demon inside him, would hesitate a microsecond too long and leave a smoky trail of its essence, like a child coloring, unable to stay in the lines. I had to keep one thing in mind at all times: Underneath all that charisma and spellbinding charm lay the heart of a demon who stole people’s souls.

  Reyes didn’t exactly like the plan I’d come up with, but I didn’t give him much say in the matter. I was here for the soul of my client, Mr. Joyce. Not for Reyes. And as far as I knew, Reyes’s soul was fine. But I did as he’d asked. I’d dropped my hand beside my chair the moment I sat across from the Dealer and summoned Artemis, my guardian Rottweiler who liked nothing more than ripping out the throats of demons. She rose up out of the floor until her head lifted my hand. Normally she’d roll over for a belly rub, but she sensed the demon in the room instantly and had been keeping an eye on him ever since, waiting for my command.

  I patted my boot to make sure Zeus was still in there. I’d brought the knife Garrett Swopes hunted down, the one that could supposedly kill any demon on Earth. Including Reyes, which explained why Garrett had hunted it down in the first place. I felt better knowing it was close. I knew what a demon was capable of. I’d felt the slice of their needle-like teeth as they slid across my skin. I’d felt the stab of their razor-sharp claws as they dug into my flesh. I’d felt the icy chill of their breath as they readied to rip me to shreds. Zeus was definitely nice to have around.

  I patted my boot again.

  Three other players joined us—all men, all desperate, all searching for something they couldn’t get at a card game. Did they know what the Dealer was? What he could do for them? Did they know how much it would cost them in the long run? It was one thing to die. It was another to lose one’s soul. To come to a complete end. To exist no longer.

  I nodded when Angel showed up. He stuck to the shadows at first, but once the game got under way, he went to work.

  This was a game of luck and skill. It took total concentration. Damn it. I sucked at concentration. And I wasn’t all that lucky either.

  Artemis watched the Dealer like a leopard watched its prey. Anytime he leaned close to deal or to gather cards or chips, a low rumble escaped her chest. No one there could hear it, of course, except for the demon. But to his credit, he never flinched. He pretended to be oblivious, but surely he could see what I was. He could hear Artemis and Angel. He didn’t seem particularly worried, though. Angel sucked at cards as bad as I did. I was down a cool seventeen mil. Or seventeen hundred. Probably seventeen hundred. I’d lost track a while ago and was now waiting for him to bargain, to offer to forgive the debt if I’d just give up my soul. He had yet to make that offer, but the night was young. Really young. We’d played only one hand.

  Even with Angel walking around the table, telling me what everyone’s hands consisted of, I lost. Probably because knowing what everyone was holding didn’t matter. I had no idea what constituted a winning hand. If two pairs beat three of a kind. If a full house beat a straight flush, two poker terms that always reminded me of a house full of people with only one toilet. Not sure why.

  “You gotta get better at this shit, mijita,” Angel said. “You only brought two thousand dollars and you just lost seventeen hundred. In one hand.”

  A minuscule smile played about the Dealer’s mouth as he watched me. He could clearly hear Angel. Could probably see him, too. But I wondered if he could feel Reyes. The human body he’d inhabited may act as a barrier, making him unable to feel the heat that engulfed the room as Reyes watched without materializing. It was impossible to be certain.

  “If you’re going to send a boy to spy on me, make it a boy worth my time.”

  So he was ready to drop the charades. I was cool with that. I never could remember the difference between the gestures for words and syllables, anyway.

  Angel was offended. Naturally. “Are you talking about me, pendejo?”

  The Dealer spared him a humorous glance. “I could feast upon your soul, little one, and still have room for dessert.”

  I leaned forward to get his attention back on me. “You can’t have his soul. You can’t take a soul unless it was handed to you willingly while the person was still alive. I know the rules, asswipe.”

  “Such colorful language, Reaper. And you did your homework. I’m surprised. It’s not your style.”

  The other men exchanged sideways glances, confused, wondering if they’d missed something as the Dealer studied me. “Is that really what I think it is, in your boot?”

  My hand went to the dagger instinctively.

  When I didn’t answer, he asked in awe, “You found it. I didn’t even know if it was real.”

  “It’s real. Very real. But how did you know I had it?”

  “Its glow, of course. You can’t see it?”

  “No.” This not being able to see what other supernatural entities could was getting old.

  He absorbed that, his expression calculative, then explained, “Let’s just say it makes an impression.”

  The Dealer gathered the cards, getting a little too close to me, and Artemis let out another guttural growl. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Thank goodness she liked me. I couldn’t imagine what the demon was thinking.

  He shuffled and said casually, “Call off your dog.”

  I reached down and caressed her ears. “She’s fine right where she is.”

  “Not that one.” He began dealing. “Rey’aziel.”

  He did feel him. And he clearly knew who he was.

  “He’s fine right where he is, too.”

  He finished dealing, his long fingers nimble as they handled the cards like a seasoned pro. Then again, he probably was a seasoned pro. “Show yourself,” he said to Reyes.

  And Reyes materialized behind me. I looked up at him. “I’m not doing well.”

  “I can see that.”

  The other men at the table were now completely confused. This was poker. High-stakes poker. Not the strip poker I usually played. I sucked at that, too. And the Dealer and I were talking crazy. Poker did that to people.

  “Rey’aziel,” the Dealer said without looking up from the cards. “It’s been a long time.”

  Reyes stepped to the side and leaned against the wall. “Funny, I don’t remember you.”

  The statement seemed to sting him. He flinched—so quickly, I almost missed it. “You wouldn’t.”

  Surprise flashed in Reyes’s expression. He pushed off from the wall and seemed to be staring straight through the Dealer. I looked again but saw nothing.

  “You’re marked,” he said, astounded. “You were a slave.”

  The barest hint of a smile lifted a corner of the Dealer’s mouth. “I was.”

  “You’re Daeva.” Reyes scoffed as though suddenly disgusted by the creature before him. “You were created from the souls of my lost brethren. You never fell from heaven.”

  The Dealer cast him a pointed stare. “And neither did you, or have you forgotten?”

  “Not at all. I just thought I might have a fight on my hands. This shouldn’t take long,” he said as he stepped forward.

  The Dealer stood, his chair scraping against the floor and falling back as he faced the son of the man who’d apparently created him as well. The light illuminated his face a bit more, and he let a wide, brilliantly white smile spread across it.

  Angel grabbed my arm and pulled. “Charley, let’s go.”

  �
��Still don’t recognize me?” the Dealer asked Reyes.

  My nigh fiancé laughed softly in surprise, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. It was filled with astonishment and, if I had to guess, an ounce of reverence.

  “You escaped?” he asked as though that surprised him the most.

  Angel tugged again.

  I pulled him to my side and kept an arm locked around him protectively.

  “We should go,” he said, whispering in my ear.

  The Dealer’s chin went up, proud of his accomplishment. “I did. Of course, I didn’t have a map to get me through the void like you.” He gestured to the tattoos that lined Reyes’s upper body, the ones that made up a map to the gates of hell. “The gates of hell proved a bit tricky, but here I am.”

  “And here you’ll die.”

  He lifted one shoulder, unmoved. “I figured as much. I just need to have a conversation with the reaper, then we can finish this.”

  Reyes stepped to my side at once, his expression hard. “I wouldn’t.”

  Angel squeezed tighter, wanting out of Reyes’s reach and wanting me out of harm’s way.

  “You’re in love with her,” the Dealer said. It wasn’t a question but a statement that held both wonder and admiration. I wasn’t sure why he would feel either. “It all makes sense now.”

  “Don’t forget who I am,” Reyes said, his tone razor sharp, his stance rigid like a cobra about to strike. “You don’t need anything from her.”

  One brow shot up, implying that the Dealer was so unimpressed, he didn’t know what else to do. “No, Your Highness, I don’t. But you do.”

  Reyes stepped closer. “And what would that be?”

  “Victory.” When Reyes remained silent, he continued. “It’s what I do, if you’ll remember. I win. And now, more than ever, you need a win.”

  The air crackled with tension, the friction it caused creating a vortex of heat, Reyes’s anger was so palpable. He started for the Dealer, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. Angel jerked out of my grip. I was too close to Reyes for his comfort. He stepped away from the melee, but to his credit, he didn’t disappear.

  Reyes stopped at the feel of my touch and glanced down at me. It wasn’t a nice glance.

  “Why do we need you?” I asked the Dealer, ignoring Mr. Grumpy Britches.

  His intense gaze landed on me again, but the moment it did, Reyes growled. He looked back at him before answering. “Because there’s only one way to beat your father, and she holds the key.” He gestured to me with a nod of his head. “If she doesn’t live through this, Earth will become a very dark place.”

  “Live through what?” I asked, but the Dealer didn’t look at me that time.

  He kept a watchful eye on the predator. The more immediate danger. “The Twelve have escaped,” he said to Reyes, and though I had no idea who or what the Twelve were, Reyes seemed to have no trouble figuring it out.

  His expression changed to one of astonishment. It wasn’t easy to astonish him.

  “If they get to her,” he started, but Reyes recovered and interrupted before he could finish, much to my chagrin.

  “They won’t.”

  “They will if you don’t keep a very close eye on her. She gets into enough trouble without the Twelve making an appearance. They will rip her apart and make you watch while they do it.”

  Reyes bit down so hard, I could hear his teeth grind. “They’ll try.”

  “You need my help, and you know it.”

  “This is like the prophecies Garrett found,” I told Reyes, patting his arm, trying to convince him to listen. “You and I are the key, remember?” I looked back at the Dealer, who didn’t dare meet my eyes.

  But before I could question him any further, Reyes asked, “And why would you help us?”

  “Why else? I want him dead as much as you do.” He leaned in, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “Even more so, I’d wager, and if you want to win this thing, you’ll listen to what I have to say. There’s only one way to bring him down. We can’t risk the reaper because of your pride.”

  I started thinking back to when I’d first arrived at the game tonight. The Dealer didn’t seem the least bit surprised when I walked in. Surely he knew who I was the moment I showed up, like he was expecting me.

  “Why am I here?” I asked him. “Did you arrange this?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “I simply encouraged Mr. Joyce to seek you out through a few connections I have. He was desperate enough to do it.”

  I released Zeus, pulling out the knife and holding it toward him as steady as I could. Which wasn’t very steady. I was shaking. And I had to pee.

  “You’re still on my turf, stealing the souls of good people. And you stole that body you’re living in.”

  “I didn’t steal anything. I was born on Earth, just like the prince.”

  I gaped at Reyes. “He can do that?”

  After a long hesitation, he nodded. “It’s a complicated process, but yes.”

  “Wow, okay, but you’ve still stolen souls.”

  He shrugged helplessly. “Man cannot live on bread alone. And I steal nothing. Whatever I take has been handed over to me willingly. I pay a very high price for the souls I take.”

  “Not high enough.”

  “You forget, they come to me and they are getting what they want in return. It’s a win–win.” When I only glared, he added, “I am not your enemy. We have a similar agenda.”

  “I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, and I sensed a genuine enjoyment in his reaction, as though I were entertaining to him like a fly might be to a spider. So that was annoying.

  “And then,” I continued, letting my mouth lift into a patient smile, “I’m going to take this dagger, push it into your heart, and watch you die.”

  “Well, then, that’s not a very good incentive for me to do what you want, now, is it?”

  “You need to be brought down. I’m sorry, but it has to be done.”

  “I believe you,” he said, surprised. “I think you are sorry, even if just barely. What if I only bargained for the souls of bad people? You know, murderers and child molesters and people who cut in line at the theater snack counter.”

  There was a thought I could live with. Well, not the snack-counter thing, but … “You could be like the demonic version of Dexter.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed.

  “But how many have you taken in the past? How many good souls do you have to compensate for?”

  He raised a helpless hand. “I’ve been on this plane in human form for more than two centuries,” he said, surprising me to my core. “If I had to guess, I’d say more than a few. Surely you won’t hold my past indiscretions against me.”

  I stepped closer and his chin went up. He watched Zeus carefully, like one would watch a venomous snake poised to strike. “No more,” I said, my tone low and even. “Never again. And I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him. I don’t care what kind of bargain he made, I want it canceled.”

  “As you wish, but I want something in return.”

  “Do not bargain with him,” Reyes said.

  Of course, I ignored him. “What?”

  He gestured toward Zeus with a congenial nod of his top hat. “The dagger.”

  I snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding. The only way you’re getting this knife is when its blade slides into your chest.”

  He shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Then how about you let me help you with this little Twelve problem, and it’s all his.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Dutch,” Reyes said, but I shushed him with an index finger. A very powerful index finger, it would seem, because he let me continue.

  “You can return it to him?” I asked. “Good as new?”

  The Dealer winced. “New is a strong word, but once it’s back in place, how it fares is up to him.”

  I raised the knife again, but he stood his ground, albeit warily. “And no
more, right?”

  “No more, right. Only bad people.”

  “No snack-counter line-cutters, either. They have to genuinely be bad, as in harmful to the human race.”

  “Not a problem. I know a rapist down the street. I can live off him for weeks.”

  “And I want Joyce’s soul returned immediately.”

  He snorted. “Do you think me a fool?”

  “I think you’re all kinds of a fool. There’s no telling when, or even if, these twelve jokers will show up.”

  “Clearly, you have trust issues. I’ll give him back his soul when the favor is returned.”

  “I’m returning it now by not burying this blade in your chest.”

  He paused in thought, but only for a split second before saying, “You think that a favor?”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I deflected. “I think I’m bored. Leave Mr. Joyce’s soul alone.”

  With that, I turned and walked out, completely unsure if I’d accomplished anything at all.

  7

  I lost my virginity,

  but I still have the box it came in.

  —T-SHIRT

  Though I couldn’t be 100 percent certain, I got the distinct feeling Reyes was angry. He sat in Misery, his back rigid, his gaze averted, his jaw set to the consistency of marble. And he was still incorporeal. He could have vanished but didn’t. Did he want me to know how angry he was, or was he worried about this Twelve-pack? When he cast me a glare from underneath his lashes as we headed home, I glared right back.

  “What?” I asked, my adrenaline level still high. My disbelief even higher. He wasn’t worried about the Twelve. He was angry with me. Me! What had I done now?

  He shook his head and returned his attention starboard. When he spoke, his voice was low, calculated. “You did exactly what I said you would.”

  “What? I have my soul. And my dignity. He didn’t get either one.”

  “That’s debatable. You made a deal with him.”