Page 59 of Devils Don’t Deal

I ignored that not-so-subtle insult. “Why did you tell the daffodil fairy boy that I was a goblin? He took my goods without paying, and that was after I made vegan sweetbreads for him.”

He stared at me unblinking for a long moment. “A daffodil fairy boy? I know no such person.”

“The fairy princeling,” the devil said, and with a gesture of his hand brought the image of the daffodil fairy boy up above his palm.

My great-uncle shook his head. “He’s in Europe. Whoever you saw was not that person.”

“He smelled the same,” the devil said. “Had the same magical imprint. Had all the right mannerisms and expressions. Perhaps you have an imposter taking the prince’s place while he plays in Song.”

“If so, I would be very surprised. He’s trying to impress the king, his uncle.”

“But you said he liked goblins,” I said.

He turned and started walking away from the plot. “Indeed. His uncle also likes goblins. Did I not mention that?” His voice was laced with disapproval.

“The fairy king dates goblins?”

He turned his head to give me a bracing look. “Dates? I really couldn’t say whether he is capable of such a thing. He hires them.” He continued walking away, and I almost started after him. People hired goblin assassins. Was that what he was insinuating? The fairy king was hiring assassin goblins, and it had something to do with me? There was the band of goblins who’d taken my father’s debts and raided my living room, but those weren’t assassins. But someone had hired them to release the Lady of the Wild Woods to kill the devil while he was weak. Or to kill me.

My head started to ache along with my heart. It was my birthday, my mother was dead, and I didn’t want to deal with my great-uncle or worry about psycho killers.

I was here to visit my mother. Full stop. Whether the fairy boy was actually a prince or a pretender didn’t make any difference to me. And whether the fairy king had hired goblins to release a psycho killer to kill me or the devil…

I shook my head and went over to the gravestone, which was a six-foot white marble statue of her, wings spread, a light in her eyes that she hadn’t had for the last year of her life. Had Dad really ordered something this expensive? He was mad. It was beautiful, though. It stood out in the cemetery where all the richest people were buried.

“I think it would take me more than five years just to pay that off,” I said, staring at the statue.

“It was an anonymous donation.”

“Ah, because she had royal blood?”

“Perhaps. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. And so expensive.”

He laughed and clasped my hand, letting his warmth flow through me while we stood there, in front of the heap of earth beneath the outstretched arms of the over-sized fairy.

I slowly leaned over until I had my head against his arm, soaking up the peace of the place, the warmth of him, and the bittersweet happiness I’d never thought I’d find without my mother. Was it real? Did it matter that the devil didn’t have a heart when he could love me so well with only half a soul?

We spent a long time like that, until it started drizzling and we headed back to the car, the sky appropriately weeping so I didn’t have to.

After the cemetery, we went to dinner in my kitchen, the devil cooking while I sat in my cozy chair reading a recipe book, snuggling my rabbit, and feeling full of love, happiness, and hope. Hope that I could be so content for the rest of my life. That the devil could be part of my life forever. Silly, but I was a natural-born optimist. Or an unnaturally born optimist. Whichever.

“Do you want dessert first or last?” he asked, holding up two covered trays.

“Both, obviously.”

He took the lid off with a flourish, to reveal a molten lava chocolate cake, burning beautifully. I laughed while he put it down in front of me then I ate around the flame, feeding him bites of the fire, which he ate with a slight sizzling as the flames met his tongue. It was delicious. He was delicious, and I’d never tasted anything so perfect, even if the consistency of the crumb wasn’t quite ideal, and the chocolate sauce was a hint too sweet.

After dinner, which ended with a lovely light salad, cress and walnut, with a hint of lemon and pomegranate and then more chocolate, he leaned forward.

“And now, my birthday princess, I would like to take you to a ball.” His eyes had dark orange sparks in them, liquid eyes that glowed with life.

I stared at him. “A ball?”

“In Wonderland. A ball with the right sort of dancing from the beginning. Will you join me? It might go quite late, and you might have to sleep in tomorrow and open the shop the day after.”

I beamed at him. Dancing with him? I still dreamed of the night in the club, but in an actual ballroom as magical as Wonderland could be? I nodded and tried not to act too ridiculously excited. It was just that I’d never gone to a dance before, and he was the one person in the world I wanted to dance with. “I’d love that,” I said, trying to sound calm.