The Hearts We Sold(62)

When they parted, their breath fogged the air beneath the umbrella. James looked slightly dazed and a flush crept along his cheeks.

“I just wanted to try that,” she said, “in case we both die horribly tonight.”

He laughed, and it was a quiet, comfortable sound. “Well, if that isn’t the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

But his hand found hers, and their fingers twined together as they stepped out of the circle of light.





TWENTY-NINE


T he river was a green-gray smudge against the night, and Dee could just barely make out its edges. The tall, spindly trees were framed against the city lights, only visible for their own darkness. Rain and mud spattered her school uniform—and she knew it was ruined.

Her phone was cupped in both hands, beneath the shelter of the umbrella. She had her flashlight app on, and it cast a weak half circle of illumination before them. She and James shuffled in little quick steps, each trying to adjust their stride to match the other’s. It made for slow, awkward going, and Dee was sure they were going to be too late.

But then the thin light caught on the glimmer of a rain jacket and Dee gasped.

It was the girl Dee noticed before—with brown hair the color of hazelnuts, tanned skin, and features perfectly in balance. She was nearly as beautiful as the Daemon. But her face was twisted with fear.

And then Dee saw why.

Cora stood, her arm raised. She was indeed carrying a handgun, and she aimed it like she knew what she was doing.

“I won’t let you do it again,” said Cora. She was very calm. “Never again, demon.”

The Daemon did not recoil. “Are you threatening me?” he said, amused.

“I am bargaining,” replied Cora with a grim smile. “There’s a difference. Now, back away from the girl and I don’t put two bullets in you.” Then she added, to the girl, “You don’t want this. Trust me, you don’t want this. You think it’s worth it—whatever it is, but it’s not.” Her voice turned beseeching. “I thought it was worth it, too, but I was wrong. Walk away.”

Defiance flashed across the girl’s face. Her full lips pulled back in a snarl. “Fuck off.” She turned to the Daemon and said, the words coming out in a rush, “I agree to the terms of the covenant, Agathodaemon.”

It was different seeing it from the other side. Much quicker than Dee remembered it—one moment, the Daemon stood before the teenage girl, and then his hand was inside her chest.

Everything happened at once.

Cora pulled the trigger—a noise like thunder cracked the air and the Daemon jerked once, twice. Dee thought she might have cried out, but her ears were torn apart by the sound of the gunfire. Then the teenage girl was on the ground, still and silent, and the Daemon was staggering back, one of his pale hands touching his chest.

Blood spilled across the front of his suit. It mixed with the rainwater, and something about its color reminded Dee of pomegranate juice.

In his fist was a heart.

It is so small, Dee thought.

The Daemon staggered. Fell to one knee. Got up again.

Cora’s finger tightened on the trigger.

And that was when James slammed into her. The gun went off again, but the shot went wide; bark was torn from a nearby tree and then James ripped the gun from her hand. “Are you insane?” he was saying. “You could’ve hit the girl—”

Cora pushed him off, teeth bared. “Get off of me!” She scrambled to her feet, spun around in a circle, looking for the weapon. It was on the ground, in a mud puddle. Cora lunged for it, but then the Daemon flexed his fingers.

The weapon vanished.

And reappeared in his hand.

For a moment, no one moved.

The Daemon closed his fist.

The gun shattered. Shards of metal and plastic fell to the ground.

“Do not try that again,” he snarled, and for the first time, Dee was truly afraid of him. She watched as the torn flesh of his chest and throat began to knit together. “You think this is a game? You think I do this for my own pleasure? You try and stop me—and your kind will suffer as much as mine will.”

He gave the group one last cold once-over, and then the air pressure changed. With the fresh heart in hand, he vanished.

“No,” snarled Cora, and rushed to where he had been standing. She looked desperate for a moment, then she rushed back in the direction of the market.

James glanced between Cora and Dee, his expression torn. Then he appeared to make up his mind. “Cora, damn it! Do not—” He sprinted after her. The shouting died away, until all Dee could hear was the sound of the rain.

She forced herself to breathe. She felt quivery, shaken from the sound of the gunshot. It would draw people here. They needed to move.

Dee picked her way through the mud to the girl’s side. She was still on the ground, her hand on her chest, as if feeling for something that wasn’t there.

Dee squatted next to her. “What’s your name?”

The girl looked up at her with steady eyes. “Riley.”

“Right. Riley.” Dee pushed a hand through her soaked and tangled curls. “We need to go somewhere. Out of this damn rain.”

Riley rose to her feet. She was covered in mud, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. “I’ve been couch-surfing,” she said. “But the owner of my current couch made it clear that if I ever did a deal with a demon… well. It’s time to find a new couch.”