“Um, okay.” He twisted the baseball cap in his hands before pinning me with his gaze, taking a deep breath, and blurting out, “I sold my soul to the devil and I need you to get it back for me.”

That was new.

I blinked a few times, took a slow sip, then asked, “Did it fetch a good price?”

“What?” he asked, surprised by my reaction.

“Your soul. What’d you get for it?”

He bit down and charged forward. “Ms. Davidson, I’m not kidding.”

“I can see that.”

“I’ve talked to a few—” He glanced around, worried we’d be overheard. “—

individuals

in your field, and they all recommended I hire you. Said if anyone could get it back, you could.”

“Really? And what kind of individuals are in my field?”

“You know,” he said, setting his ball cap on my desk and easing forward to whisper. “The supernatural kind.”

“Ah. Right. Because they’re on every street corner. So, this demon you sold your soul to—”

“Devil,” he corrected, punching the air with an index finger. “He was the devil.”

“Okay, first of all, the

devil

is never on this plane this time of year, so if the guy who bought your soul says he’s the boss man himself, he’s lying.”

“Seriously?” he asked, surprised. “Well, maybe he didn’t say he was the devil, but he had powers, you know? He had an intensity I felt every time he looked at me, like the weight of it alone could crush me. And he has my soul. It’s gone. I can’t feel it anymore.” He patted his clothes as though searching for his wallet.

Wonderful. Mr. Joyce was crazy. I took out a pen and pad. “Okay, can you describe your soul in detail? I’ll put out a BOLO.”

He leaned back, annoyed with me. It happened. “I thought that you of all people would understand.”

I put down my pen. “Why me of all people?”

“I know what you are,” he said. “He told me.”

“The devil told you?”

“No, the guy.” He raked a hand through his hair. “The guy who took my soul. Maybe he just took it for the devil. I don’t know.”

As entertaining as this was, I needed to call Uncle Bob and ask him what was going on with my dad. No way did I call Dad. If he didn’t want me to know something, I damned sure didn’t know.

“Okay, well, thanks for coming in, Mr. Joyce, but—”

“Hedeshi!” he shouted, remembering a name. A name that I knew well.

“Hedeshi is dead,” I said, wondering how he knew the name of the demon sent to kill me. Thankfully, I had the son of Satan and a guardian departed Rottweiler named Artemis backing me up, or I wouldn’t have been there at all.

“Right, he told me about Hedeshi. Said he was dead. During the card game, he’d—”

“Card game?”

“The poker game,” he said, growing more agitated by the second. “The one where I lost my soul.”

I clasped my fingers together. “Let me get this straight. You gambled your soul away?”

“Well … no. Not exactly. I needed money. He knew it. Used it against me.” Shame washed over him in one bright-hot wave. “It was for a good cause. I needed money and he had the highest game in town, so I took a chance. I hocked everything we had just to get a seat at the table, and then I lost every penny.” He scrubbed his forehead, embarrassed. “When he saw how distressed I was, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I said yes. I sold him my soul.”

“Of course you did. Hedeshi,” I reminded him.

He squinted his eyes, trying to remember. “The guy, the dealer, said there was a grim reaper in town wreaking all kinds of havoc on his brethren. Said you managed to kill one of the top generals from hell, a man named Hedeshi.”

How on earth did some dealer from an illicit card game know that? “And how do you know I’m this grim reaper?”

“Because everyone told me,” he said, his voice getting louder. “Look, can you just go talk to this guy? Just get it back? I’ll pay you.”

“I thought you didn’t have any money. That was why you were at the card game in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, I got some. I got a lot. Selling one’s soul is very profitable.” He bowed his head, and the heartache that spread through him stung the backs of my eyes. “Turns out even money can’t cure cancer.”

Son of a bitch. The big C. My most hated enemy.

“Look, I just need my soul. He can have everything back. I just need my soul to be with her. I promised.”

So, a woman he loved had died, and now he wanted his soul back so he could be with her. That was also new.

“You’re the only one who’s ever stood up to one of these guys. No one else will even try.”

“There’s a good reason for that. They’re rather deadly.”

“I’ll do anything. You can have it all. The money. The cars. Everything. My husband and I are devastated.”

And once again, I was taken aback. Just when I thought I knew what was going on. “Your husband?”

“Yes. Paul. We got married in Massachusetts the minute they legalized it.”

“Then who is this ‘she’ you promised to spend eternity with?”

The huge tears shimmering in his eyes as he looked up at me stole my breath and my heart in the same moment. “Our daughter. She was only three when she passed away from neuroblastoma. I got her the best medical care money could buy, but it made no difference.” He took out his wallet and retrieved a picture out of it. Two actually. Handing them to me, he asked, “Do you know what it’s like watching a three-year-old girl die of cancer? She was so brave. She only wanted one thing—our promise that we’d be with her in heaven someday.” His voice broke as I studied the pictures. A gorgeous girl with blond ringlets and huge blue eyes graced the first one. The second one had been taken after a few rounds of chemo, her bald head, no less beautiful, shining in the sun as she flew down a slide, her smile as wide as the New Mexico sky. “We both promised her we’d see her again. Paul doesn’t know what I did for all of this. He doesn’t know I can’t keep our promise.”

I wasn’t sure if it was his sorrow or mine that formed a lump the size of a softball in my throat. Either way, I couldn’t stop the emergence of tears as I gazed at the angel in her fathers’ arms. “When did she pass?” I managed to ask, my chest tightening.

“Yesterday.” And with that, he collapsed into a mass of tears, sobbing into his hands uncontrollably. I rounded the desk, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and sobbed with him. This was the part I didn’t handle well. The people-left-behind part. Their sorrow was like a boulder on my chest.

I felt Reyes, felt his heat before the door opened and he stepped inside. He didn’t interrupt. He stood back and watched over me as I let the pain of death crush me into dust.

4

My boyfriend called me a stalker.

Well, he’s not actually my boyfriend …

—STATUS UPDATE

I led Mr. Joyce to the door and promised I’d do whatever I could. I still had no idea if he was crazy or not, but I planned to find out.

“What have we got?” Cookie asked, her voice soft.

“We have a client who sold his soul to the devil.”

“Another one?”

She knew just what to say. A little embarrassed, I graced her with the best smile I could conjure under the circumstances. “Exactly. When will these guys ever learn?” I looked over at Reyes, who’d stood watch the whole time. I was more than a little embarrassed that he’d witnessed my breakdown. “Is that even possible?”

“It’s possible,” he said. I felt genuine regret emanating off him.

“Then I have a card game to go to.”

He pushed off the wall and followed me as I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. “You’re not serious.”