The Hearts We Sold(15)

A laugh snaked up her throat. “You want to lease my heart?”

“Yes,” said the demon, inclining his head. Because it was a he, no matter how much Dee tried to think of it as alien. It was a beautiful, courteous, absolutely terrifying he.

“How will I live without my heart?” she asked.

“Your body will be in a sort of stasis. You won’t age or change physically. You will simply… be.”

“Be what?” said Dee.

He smiled, and the expression was cool and impenetrable. “That’s entirely up to you.”

She suddenly felt keenly aware of her own heartbeat, her pulse in her throat, in her wrists, even in her fingertips. Dee glanced over her shoulder, taking in that smudge on the ceiling, the smell of dust, and the rats skirting the room’s edges. And the two boys, just out of earshot, conversing quietly.

Something in the room shifted.

It was the air pressure—similar to the sensation of someone opening a window, of fresh air spilling into a room. Dee inhaled, smelled hot metal and sand.

“We need to do this now,” said Cal, his voice rising in pitch.

Dee forced herself to breathe through her mouth. “What they’re doing—is it dangerous?”

The look the demon gave her was almost approving. “Yes.”

“Could I die?”

That approval warmed further. “It’s a possibility.”

She wasn’t stupid.

She knew how this would likely end—some cruel twist of fate, a wish turned against the maker.

And then she thought of home.

She imagined that house, the faded carpet and the brown bottles, the sharpness of her mother’s collarbone when she hugged Dee, the scent that clung to her father—sweat and something sour and stale. She imagined what it would be like to sleep there, night after night, just waiting for the next blowup. For the shouting that reverberated through the walls and permeated her chest. She remembered when she had been small enough to wedge herself between the wall and her bed, humming quietly to block out the noise, hoping they’d forget she was there.

She wouldn’t fit in that spot anymore. She’d have to find a new place to hide.

She would rather die.

That last thought settled into place, and she felt stronger because of it. There was some comfort in knowing that if her life were destroyed, it would be her own decision and no one else’s. She met the demon’s eyes.

“I am the Agathodaemon,” he said.

Dee knew the correct words; the vow had been the first thing to show up in all the search engines.

“I’m Deirdre Moreno and I agree to the covenant,” she said, then added, “Agathodaemon.”

He didn’t move, and the moment dragged by. Dee wiped sweaty hands on her jeans. “So… now what?” she said, when the silence was too much. “Do we sign something or…?”

“No,” the Agathodaemon said, and then he was in front of her. “But you might feel a slight pinch.” The blue in his eyes seemed to swallow her—she couldn’t look away, not even when she felt his hand on the neckline of her shirt, gentle and quick as a thief, and then—

—agony.





NINE


T he world was very quiet.

That was her first thought. She swayed on her feet and reveled in the silence. It was so marvelous that she didn’t care when her knees began to give way.

Hands gripped both her arms and kept her upright.

And then the world came back, with a snap and a hiss, like turning on a television. Everything returned—sight, sound, even the sensation of saliva building up in the back of her throat.

“Don’t you dare be sick on me,” said a voice, and Dee managed to look up. The one holding her upright was James Lancer. His face was drawn with nerves. “Come on, now. Good—swallow it back down.”

Dee swallowed bile she hadn’t known was there.

“Oh, come on,” said Cal. He was standing beside them, hands out as if ready to catch her. “It’s not like she’d ruin your clothes, Lancer.”

“It’s more the smell I’m worried about,” said James. “Who knows what it’ll attract.”

Dee opened her mouth. She felt oddly numb, like the time she’d been on narcotics after getting a tooth pulled. The world wasn’t quite there—or maybe she wasn’t quite there. “I’m all right.”

James loosened his grip on her arms, but he didn’t let go.

Dee took a moment to glance around. She half wanted to see if it was true—to see if the demon had truly taken her heart. She didn’t feel any different; there was no gaping hole in her chest and she could still breathe. If anything, she felt lighter.

Cal spoke again. “She’ll have to be the doorman. If she can barely stand up, there’s no way she’s walking into a void.”

“That’s fine,” said James. “It’d be a shame to let the parka go to waste. Hey, Prep School Girl”—she could almost hear the capital letters in James’s voice—“what’s your name?”

Dee swallowed again. “Dee,” she said, still trying to fight through the dizziness.

“All right, Dee,” said Cal. “You’re going to be the doorman. All you need to do is climb that ladder and push yourself halfway into the void. And then you don’t move, understand? You’ll stabilize the entrance, keep it open when the void implodes.”