The Demon’s Queen (A Deal With A Demon)

“What have you done?”

I don’t look up as I carefully lay Eve on the bed. The room is nearly identical to those of the other human women I’ve made contracts with in the last few days. It’s not what I would have chosen for Eve if circumstances were different . . . but circumstances aren’t different.

She won’t wake up for some time yet. A blessing, I suppose, since there’s going to be hell to pay once she realizes all the ways I’ve lied to her.

“Azazel.”

I finally look at Ramanu. They’re one of the best bargainers I have, and unlike so many others in my court, they’re not afraid of me. They stand with their hands planted on their hips, and if they had eyes, no doubt they would be narrowed. Instead of the customary single set of horns most bargainers have, Ramanu has two. The second, smaller, set curves out from where their eye sockets would be.

That doesn’t stop them from seeing far too much.

They frown. “Tell me this isn’t the human you’ve been sneaking off to play with for years.”

As leader of the bargainers—king, if I’m being honest—I’ve learned to lie, cheat, steal, and even kill in the pursuit of bettering my people’s lives. But I don’t lie to Ramanu now. “This is Eve.”

She stirs a little when I say her name, and I can’t help turning back to her. Gods, she’s beautiful. Long blond hair, full lips, a soft body filled with curves that I’ve spent hours exploring.

“Azazel,” Ramanu hisses. “You’re endangering the plans that have been so long in the making. The territory leaders will be here tomorrow. You need to be focused.”

They’re right, but that doesn’t change the fact I had no choice. The alternative was too horrible to bear. “I have it under control.” It takes more effort than I will ever admit to turn away from the bed and walk past Ramanu to the door.

They follow, nearly stepping on my heels in the process. “You have one more bargain to make. You’re cutting it close. If any of the leaders think you’re hiding a human from them, they’re going to start asking questions—or thinking the others are subpar options.”

Which would put the four remaining women in danger.

“That won’t be a problem.” I shake my head sharply. “Belladonna is primed to say yes.”

“Again, that doesn’t change the presence of your blonde.”

I feel like I’m free-falling, but when has that stopped me from forward momentum? For peace in this realm, I’ve allowed myself to become a monster in so many ways. To hurt the one person I meant to keep separate. “Eve will participate in the auction.”

“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” Ramanu throws up their hands, their frustration coating the hallway. “You certainly won’t go on a fucking rampage when someone else chooses her, unraveling all the work you’ve put in for peace in this realm.”

They’re doing what a good second-in-command does and pointing out the flaws in my admittedly impulsive plan, but I still want to grab them by the throat and slam them into the wall. My predecessor would have; she ruled through terror as much as anything else. I’ve chosen a different path. Unfortunately, choosing a different path didn’t banish the violent impulses I was forced to develop to stay alive in Caesarea’s court.

My aunt was a monster. No one else was willing to step in to stop her, so the task fell to me.

“I will not do anything to endanger the auction, but I can’t risk her presence causing questions, or anyone realizing how . . . special . . . she is to me.”

Ramanu snorts. “And you give me grief for my fascination with that murderous little witch.”

I start walking down the hall, and they fall into easy step next to me. “Your murderous little witch is a murderous witch. If you can secure a bargain with her, then she’ll be an excellent addition to the court. But that’s a rather large if, Ramanu.”

They grin, quick and wicked. “I have my ways.” Their smile fades far too quickly. “Why now, Azazel? You could have waited a week and the rest of them would’ve been too busy with their new humans to wonder what you’re up to. You’re a bargainer; of course you’d continue making deals.”

I push open the massive wooden door at the end of the hallway and hold it for them. “The situation with my cousin has escalated. I got word today that he’s aware of her.”

Ramanu curses under their breath. “That’s unfortunate.”

“So you see, I didn’t have a choice.” In another week on her own, Eve would’ve been dead.

EVE

I wake up in an instant but keep my eyes closed as I listen to Azazel talk to someone with a light and melodious voice . . . Ramanu. It’s sheer habit to keep my body relaxed and my breathing even. My mind, though? It’s racing.

The bed I’m lying on is unfamiliar. I can’t hear Azazel’s footsteps, so the room must have carpet instead of the marble floors of the hotel suite. More than that, the very air feels different. It takes several slow inhales before I fully register the . . . I don’t know how to explain it. Hotel air has a definitive feel, sterile and a little off from a home. The air isn’t humid, but I can’t feel it actively leeching the moisture from my skin. And there’s a faint scent in the air, something layered in the way of old houses. This is a room that’s been lived in.

It adds up to one horrifying realization: That motherfucker kidnapped me.

I can barely register their words, can barely think past the screaming in my head. It’s everything I can do to lie there and pretend to still be unconscious as Azazel and the other person leave and close the door softly behind them. Even then, I make myself count to one hundred slowly to ensure they’re gone.

No one returns in the intervening time, so I slowly open my eyes with the intention of scanning my room for cameras—and a way out.

I lie on a massive four-poster bed, each post thick dark wood with carvings winding up its height. The comforter is thick and looks handmade. I drift my fingers over its surface, hating that I find the texture pleasing.

There’s no point in playing possum any longer. I sit up slowly and take in the rest of the space. A large wardrobe hunches in the corner, big enough to hide three bodies. A doorway leads into what appears to be a bathroom. The door Azazel left through is massive, easily eight feet tall and twice the width of normal doors.

And there’s a window.

That gets me moving. If I can escape, I can flee and try to find a gas station or maybe another house close by and beg a phone call. No matter where Azazel’s taken me, Pope will retrieve me. They’ll come up with a plan that will see me home and safe. I just need to get out.

I rush to the window—an ornate curved thing that looks like it belongs in a castle—and freeze.

There’s no glass, which should have been my first clue that something is wrong. The second is that we’re not on the ground floor. In fact, we’re so high up that I can see the entire city sprawled out at the base of my tower.

A city I’ve never seen before.

“No, no, don’t panic. There are plenty of places in the world you haven’t visited. This is just . . .” There are mountains in the distance, the massive peaks a deep blue-purple that hardly looks real. But that’s not what has panic threatening to short out my thoughts.

No, that dubious privilege goes to the creature flying through the bright-blue sky in the distance. I almost convince myself it’s some kind of predatory bird, but as it swoops down and then up again, appearing to ride the air currents, I have to admit what I’m seeing.

A person with crimson skin and large bat-like wings.

A fucking monster.

“This is not happening.” Speaking aloud doesn’t snap me out of the vision I’m trapped in. The creature in the distance continues to fly and spin, as graceful as any predatory bird I’ve ever seen. “Drugs. It has to be drugs.”

But I don’t feel high. I’ve dabbled in more than my fair share of mind-altering substances in my ill-spent youth, and there’s a distinct feel to each of them. For a drug to make me hallucinate this, I should be feeling some other effects. I’m not.

A second monster joins the first, though this one appears to have a specific destination in mind, rather than the pure entertainment of being in the air. I rub my eyes—hard—but nothing changes when the dancing spots clear. “Maybe I’m having a nervous breakdown. Something snapped.” Except my mind feels fine. I’m scared. I’m angry. I’m one sharp breath from panicking. All those sensations are familiar to me, even if this situation is far more dire than any I’ve encountered to date.

Someone knocks on my door, light and polite but also clearly not intending to be ignored. I sigh. “I don’t know why you’re knocking. It’s not like I can say no.”

The monster that emerges through the door is like nothing I’ve ever seen or imagined. Humanoid for the most part, but with the same deep-crimson skin as the flying one I just saw. It’s their face that stops me short. They have two sets of horns, one seeming to replace where humans have eyes.

What the fuck?

“I’m Ramanu. They/them.” They step into the room and close the door. They’re wearing a black tunic-type garment that reaches their midthighs and little else aside from black sandals that lace up their muscular calves. “I’m sure you have questions.”

Only half a million. I don’t know whether to treat this as if it’s all normal and fine or start screaming and never stop. “What did Azazel drug me with?”

They lean against the door and cross their arms over their chest. “No drugs. No hallucinations. Your mind hasn’t broken. Azazel brought you to the demon realm.”

“Of course. I’m not drugged or losing my mind; I’m in hell.” I choke out a laugh. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Not that Christian self-recrimination circle jerk.” They wave that away. “I realize this is a lot for a nonmagical human to process, but there are countless realms in existence. Once upon a time, they were cozy and close.” They press their palms together. “But a millenium ago, some kind of catastrophic event happened to scatter them.” They yank their hands violently apart. “These days, unless you go through Threshold—which I don’t recommend—only a handful of beings can traverse realms. Like the bargainers.” They point one clawed finger at themself. “My people have a long and storied history of coming to your realm and making bargains.”

It’s too much to process. This is impossible. It should be impossible. I close my eyes and force myself to just . . . accept. I can keep screaming internally that this is all the trick of a traumatized brain, but in the event it’s not, I’ll be at even more of a disadvantage if I keep resisting the truth that’s right in front of me.

Bargains.

I open my eyes. “Bargains as in contracts.”

“Bargains as in contracts,” Ramanu agrees. “I won’t pretend I understand what drove Azazel to change his plans, but rest assured that you’re safe. Even if he weren’t essentially king, these days no one in this city would dare abuse or threaten a human. Bargains are sacred to our people. Humans are to be protected.”

If I assume this is all real, then I need to start plotting. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and try to think. Azazel had me sign a contract. If Ramanu is to be believed, that contract is the reason he was able to bring me here. To go home, I just need to do those steps in reverse. “How does one cancel a contract—or a bargain, I guess?”

Ramanu grins. “It would have to be mutually agreed upon.”

Something that won’t happen, given how much effort Azazel went through to trick me and bring me here. “Oh.”

“Of course,” they say silkily, “there are other ways. If the terms of the contract are violated—in your favor, of course—then it’s null and void. The bargainer will be forced to fulfill their side of the deal and return you to your realm.”

My mind trips over their words. I read that contract fully. “There’s nothing in there about him giving me something. And when would it even come into play? The terms were for a lifetime.”

If I weren’t watching Ramanu so closely, I would miss the way their jaw drops. They recover quickly but not quickly enough.

I narrow my eyes. “That’s not standard procedure, then.”

They push off the door and shift their hands to their hips, a flirty position that does nothing to mask the fact that they’re fidgeting. “You must be tired.”

“I’m really not.” I watch them closely. A good part of my profession is reading people, and while Ramanu may not share all the features of a human, they’re not doing a good job of masking their emotions right now. “Those terms are abnormal, aren’t they?”

They clear their throat. “There will be an event tomorrow night that requires your attendance. Please avail yourself to the wardrobe.” They reach back for the doorknob. “In the meantime, you should rest. Food will be brought to your room and cleared when you’re finished with it.”

They’re going to leave before giving me any answers. I start to slide off the bed. “What kind of event?”

“An auction, though not a traditional one. It may seem frightening, but have no fear. Azazel won’t allow anyone to touch you. You’re safe here.” Then they’re gone and the door has closed softly behind them.

What the fuck just happened?