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

Today has been in the making from the moment I took over leadership of the bargainer demons, wresting it away from Caesarea once and for all. My aunt was content to drive us to ruin for the sake of her entertainment and bloodlust. Our realm is too damn small to be embroiled in a constant state of war. Whole populations have been decimated in service to her ambition. Whole generations—mine, notably—bear the scars that only war can bring.

I’ve vowed to go a different way. One where peace reigns. One where bargainers don’t have the market cornered on power. It’s been too many generations since humans and the people of this realm mingled freely. In a world where each territory takes its strength from the magic of its leader, everyone except us has been in a steady decline for far too long.

Just how Caesarea preferred it.

Today changes that, once and for all. I’ve worked exceedingly hard to create enough trust with the other territory leaders that they were willing to come here and accept my offer. And now it’s happening.

Having Eve on the stage was never part of the plan.

I don’t have a choice, though. Ramanu was right when they pointed out that any appearance of dishonesty will undermine the entire operation. Eve has to join the others, and I have to ensure no other leader chooses her. It’s a mess of my own making, but even with the way time moves differently between realms, there was no guarantee that leaving Eve alone for another day wouldn’t result in her death.

Brosh has spent a decade being a mere voice of discontent. I underestimated him, sure that he’d never escalate. To discover that not only had he found Eve, but he had plans to kill her? I shudder. I hadn’t stopped to think. I needed her safe, and now she is. No matter what the cost ends up being, it’s more than worth it as long as she remains among the living.

Still, there’s the event to deal with. I do my best to focus as I pull Rusalka—the succubi and incubi leader—aside the moment they arrive and explain what I need from them. I’m concerned about one of the humans in the group tonight, and while I think we have the most peace-minded leaders in the realm possible, I’m not willing to sacrifice the human women on the altar of peace. There’s a way forward for all of us; it just requires some careful maneuvering.

Once I have her agreement, it’s time for the others. Thane from the krakens’ territory. Bram from the gargoyles’. Sol, the dragon king. They’re all smart people. They understand what I’m offering them immediately, even if they don’t trust it entirely. That’s fine. Better to ensure they take the offered truce with care.

The human women stand on a short dais in the front of the room, each in a different color of dress, watching us with wide eyes. Belladonna, Briar, Catalina, Grace . . . and Eve. I watch Eve’s eyes go wider as she takes in Thane’s tentacles, Bram’s wings, Rusalka’s hooves, and . . . Well, Sol. When her gaze lands on me, it’s everything I can do to keep my expression composed as if I don’t know her. She’s never seen me in this form, and since she has plenty of cause to hate me currently, I thought it best to avoid a conversation until the rest of my business today is conducted.

I turn back to the leaders. “Let’s begin.”

Rusalka shifts forward, her eyes flaring crimson. “Red.” Belladonna, just as we agreed upon previously.

I turn my attention to the others, waiting with my heart in my throat.

Bram rumbles a little, his wings flaring, but he finally shrugs as if fighting me even this much is too great an effort. “They’re all the same to me. Purple.”

Thank the gods. That was easier than I expected. “Very well.” I force a sharp grin and turn to the two remaining leaders.

“Blue.” Thane moves in his pool, tentacles shifting over one another beneath the water. The ones on his head—where the humans have hair—are mostly behaving, though there’s a nod to his tension in the way they slither over his shoulders, moving in a wind that doesn’t exist.

Now, there’s only Sol remaining. The dragon considers me for a long moment, and I can practically see him weighing whether it’s worth challenging me over the fact that he truly has no choice. “White.” It’s a good pairing. Sol is honorable to a fault, and Briar’s soul is bruised from the abuse of her now-dead husband. He’ll take great care with her, which is all I can ask for.

“Perfect.” I clap my hands together, signaling for the light to go up. “Let’s get these contracts taken care of.”

It takes hours, despite everyone being eager to take their respective human and retreat to their territory. We have a good set of leaders in this generation. Even Thane and Bram, carrying so much loss that it threatens to crush them, are fair, if not kind. Sol is a teddy bear, as Ramanu is so fond of saying. Rusalka is a leader I respect deeply, and we already discussed my concerns over her human, Belladonna, not advocating for herself. There is no reason for the stress wrapping around my spine and threatening to crush me.

I am particular about who I offer contracts to. I have been even before becoming territory leader. Yes, a bargainer’s power grows with each bargain signed and sealed, but offering one means taking responsibility for another person’s well-being. Since becoming leader, I’ve only made one deal and it went badly. In the wake of that it was easier to make no deals at all. I had a whole territory to worry about, and adding more to my plate—even if resulted in more power—was too much to ask for.

Until now.

Creating five bargains and sending four of the humans involved off to live outside my domain and outside my control . . . I clench my fists. They’ll be fine. According to the contracts each of the leaders signed, they will default their territories to me if their human is harmed.

If I thought any of the other leaders would be careless with their prizes, I never would have made this offer. I can’t say they are all good matches, based on what I know of both the humans involved and the leaders, but hopefully things will fall out for the best.

As the last pair files out, heading for the portal that will transport them back to their home, I don’t have an excuse for avoiding Eve any longer.

I sigh and head for her room, where she was escorted back after the others were chosen. I trail my hand along the stone wall. “Keep an eye on her, please. She’s liable to get into trouble on her own.”

The castle isn’t technically sentient, but it’s close enough, so it’s a good idea to be polite and ask for what I want instead of demand it. Whichever leader in generations long past imbued the building with magic to shift and mold at will, I don’t think they intended the place to end up with a will of its own. But magic and time have a way of playing with even the clearest of intent.

Case in point, it should be a five-minute walk to reach Eve’s room. The castle must sense my reluctance, because it takes me fifteen to reach her door.

I pause. There’s no avoiding this forever, and the longer I put it off, the worse it will be. I lied to her. I tricked her. And now I’m going to reveal myself to be a monster to her human eyes. I have enough magic that I could draw my human glamor around me, but it’s difficult in this realm, and more importantly, it would only extend the lie.

I have her for a lifetime, and if she hates me for the entirety of it, at least she’ll be alive to hate.

With one last aborted sigh, I knock firmly on the door. It cracks open immediately, the castle allowing me entry before Eve has a chance to decide for herself. When I don’t immediately push the door open, it creaks wider on its own.

“Not helping,” I mutter.

And then she’s there, standing before me in her yellow dress, her dark eyes stony. “I’m overstimulated and not in the mood. Leave me alone.”

“Eve.”

It’s agony to watch the expressions that play across her face. Shock, fear, uncertainty. She buttons it all up in seconds, but it’s clear that she recognizes my voice, and it’s equally clear that she doesn’t know what to think of me in this form.

She clears her throat. “Azazel? I thought you sounded familiar in the other room, but . . .”

But I look nothing like the man she’s known for years. “I’m sorry for how things occurred. You’re safe here.” Necessary words, for all that they feel inadequate.

She blinks, her uncertainty melting away to reveal pure rage. “You kidnapped me.”

“You signed the contract.” I register that it’s the wrong thing to say immediately and hold up my hands. “I understand that⁠—”

“I signed a contract you led me to believe was role-play!” She clenches her fists. “Did you kidnap the others too? Did you fuck them before they signed their lives away? And now you sold them. You’re a monster.” She flicks a derisive glance over my body, for all that I tower over her in my true form. “And it has nothing to do with how you look.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. “I haven’t fucked anyone but you in years.” I don’t intend to speak that truth, but it lands in the space between us. I watch her discard my words as lies, and I have no one to blame but myself. Because I did lie to her.

Just not about this.

“Even if that were true, what do you want? A cookie?” With every word, she draws her composure tighter around herself, closing me out. “I am not, and never was, your girlfriend. You were a client.”

It’s the truth. There’s no reason for it to sting. I’m no lovestruck fool to think that she shares my feelings, no matter how much she seemed to enjoy our time together. I clear my throat. “And I didn’t sell the others. The contracts were renegotiated.”

“Renegotiated.” She snorts. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say.” She crosses her arms under her generous chest. “Are we done? Being in your presence is making me sick to my stomach.”

I want to roar my frustration, but I haven’t gotten to where I am today by letting my anger flare outward. Control is everything, and control is all I currently have to help me deal with Eve. I take a measured step back. “You’re free to explore the castle as you like. No one here will harm you.”

She narrows her eyes. “And if I want to leave?”

“You’ll find the doors locked to you.” I open my mouth to continue, to explain that it’s not safe, even in this territory, that I have enemies who don’t like the changes I’ve made, that those enemies are more than eager to take advantage of any perceived weakness, that she is my only perceived weakness . . .

But Eve slams the door in my face before I can get a word out.

I sigh. “Fuck.”

EVE

I strip out of the yellow gown and dig through the wardrobe until I come up with clothing better suited to my needs. My mind still whirls with everything I’ve seen since yesterday. Monsters of every variety and yet still seeming so human seeming. Women handed over to them without a single hesitation. And . . . Azazel.

I pause, my hands on the buttons of my gown. He lied to me in so many ways. The contract, his history, even his appearance. Because the . . . being . . . who came to my door just now is the very same one who presided over the auction. He was tall as a human, but now he’s got to be more than seven feet, and his shoulders explain why the doors here are so wide: any narrower and he’d have to go through them sideways. His skin is several shades darker than Ramanu’s, and his horns are downright majestic, jutting from either side of his bald head and up. He’s even handsome in a rough-cut way, though I’m not currently in the mood to admit it.

But for all that, his eyes are the same: a deep brown that veers close to black even in the bright light. Filled with too many things when he looks at me.

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I can’t stay here, but I’ve seen enough today to understand that I’m out of my element in a way that’s almost laughable.

So, first order of business—gather information and see if there are allies to exploit. Judging by how things went earlier, Azazel is something of a king here. That complicates things, because I can’t go over his head to someone more powerful. Still, there are other ways. There are always other ways.

I drop the dress on the ground and pull out another dress, one shorter and easier to move in. Just like the first—and all the others I tried on—it fits me perfectly.

It’s enough to make me wonder how long Azazel has been planning this: to trick me, to take me away from everything I’ve ever known. He may have seemed tormented when we spoke just now, but I don’t care about his feelings currently. I could shove him out a window with how furious I am.

I yank on a pair of shoes—another perfect fit—and march to the door. He said I have free rein of the castle, but we’ll see. I try the door and am actually surprised when the handle twists easily in my hand.

The hallway looks different from the last time I stepped out of my room, when I joined the other women also being herded to the auction. I frown and peer around. There are no doors lining the walls here, and the hall turns in a sharp right angle instead of ending in a door. “What the fuck?”

It’s possible I am misremembering things in the chaos or I somehow ended up in a different room than the one I started in . . . but I don’t think so. I press my fingers to the wall. It’s solid, not some magical illusion.

Funny that my mind hardly stumbles over the idea of magic and monsters, but what am I supposed to do? From the moment I woke up, evidence of both has been shoved in my face. Either I’m in a coma and dreaming all this . . . or monsters are real and so are magical bargains and the whole lot.

I pick a direction at random and start walking. The stone underfoot is polished to a gleam but not slippery in the least. The walls are equally polished and bare except for sconces that must be magic because their flames give off no heat or scent. Neat trick.

I’m not really thinking about my path, just taking the only route available to me—left, left, right, left again, right, right, right—until my legs start to ache. Only then do I frown and look around. I haven’t seen a single door or staircase. “What kind of building plan is this?”

It doesn’t make any sense. No builder would make a hallway like this. I’m hardly an expert at architecture and the like, but hallways exist for a purpose—to transition from one space to another. Often from one place to several others. To have one so long and strange without a single exit defies belief.

Magic, again. It has to be.

While glaring at the hallway, I press my fingers to the wall. Surely there’s some illusion in place hiding alternate paths from me. I just have to figure out the trick. “I want to find the kitchen, damn it.” With my hand dragging lightly along the wall, I set off walking again.

Except when I turn the next corner, I find a familiar door with a covered tray in front of it. Somehow, despite all logic, I’m back at my room again.