Page 35 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

“Payment?”

“Your soul.”

“My soul? Oh my. I was thinking about a cup of coffee.” The woman came closer, the darkness still swirling around us. But she was unafraid, a quiet smile on her face as she waited for my response.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“That’s a pity. Perhaps a piece of pie. Or a sandwich?”

Something about the earnest way that she looked up at me caused half of my soul, deep in my chest, to hum. It had to be her. I wouldn’t have been brought here otherwise. I needed my soul from her, but…I wasn’t ready yet. Father hadn’t found a way to keep the monster at bay. And I wasn’t strong enough to contain it either, not with my soul complete.

“I’ve never actually tried coffee.”

The woman’s cheeks rounded as she offered her elbow to me. “Allow me to introduce you.”

I hesitated, and she spoke again. “Please, I can’t afford to do much. And I’m not interested in giving you my soul, but I would love to buy you that coffee.”

I nodded, the movement jerky. Stepping up, I took her hand and cupped it around my arm. Immediately she moved off, her staccato steps against the pavement setting the tone of our pace.

“What’s your name?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking as we stepped out back into the brighter-lit street.

“Anna,” she said, grinning up at me. “I’m Anna Stuart.”

Inside her chest, my soul glowed back at me, and I knew I would be staying in the living world longer than planned.

13

Justine

Everywhere we’d gone today, women’s stares had been glued to him. As someone who hated being the center of attention, I found it highly problematic. Or at least that’s what I told myself…instead of the rising threads of jealousy that had come to life as soon as women eyed him.

He was not mine, I knew that. But at the same time, this deal was keeping us tied together. That had to mean something, right?

Depositing Judge in the apartment and showing him the stack of books to entertain himself, I quickly threw on my uniform and hurried down to the diner. I had gotten lucky and picked up the night shift. A soothing chorus of hellos greeted me as I entered, making me duck my chin. Freaking Midwesterners and their everyone loves everyone attitude.

I pulled on my apron, picked up a notepad, and immediately dove into the late-night crowd, which was a delightful bunch of labor workers getting off work combined with high school and college kids who looked two seconds from a crisis. Later there’d be the post-bar crew, and I loved that even more. Those people consumed vast amounts of late-night breakfast food and left good tips.

The rush took over, and I let myself get swept up in it, enjoying the buzz and action of those around me. It was well past midnight when Lizzy, my no-nonsense manager, appeared at my side.

“That blond in the corner is staring a hole straight through you, sweetheart. Want me to scare him away? Or ask him to come closer?”

I jerked to look over my shoulder, a laugh bubbling up inside as I realized it was Judge sitting there, in the corner booth, elegant legs folded, with an air of disinterest, even as he stared at me hard enough to start an itch forming under my skin.

I grabbed a menu and flourished it toward the demon. “He’s a friend. I can make him go.”

“Oh no, no, don't do that. Keep him around. We don’t need that booth and it makes the scenery all the more pretty.” Lizzy leaned over the counter, unabashedly staring Judge down as she fanned herself with a stack of napkins.

I huffed a short laugh and picked up the fresh coffee pot before moving over to Judge's booth.

“Got a craving for greasy diner food? Or did you just miss me?”

His expression didn't change, and for a moment I thought he hadn't heard me. I shrugged, flipping the coffee mug over on the table and proceeding to fill it with the steamy brew.

“I was drawn here.” Was he gritting his teeth?

I cocked my head, the fumes of the coffee winding up from the table, and furrowed my brows. “Drawn here?”

Judge nodded, the movement jerky. I finished pouring the coffee and sat down across from him. “I’m sorry I had to leave. I just… I need the money. If I don't, things get too tight at home.” I curled my fist on the tabletop, frustration and anger building.