Page 6 of Devils Don’t Deal

His answering smile wasn’t professional at all. He snapped his fingers, and then, with a lurch, my leg was smooth, the pricks in my face were healed, and my blood was completely gone. Even my hand felt better than ever.

He stood and gestured to the bench, his hand out, like he wanted me to take it. “Excellent. Won’t you have a seat, my dear? We can discuss business more comfortably.”

Was this really happening? When was the sky going to fall? When would he show his fangs and go for my throat? I blinked at him as I slowly lowered my hand into his and let him lead me to the bench he’d been lounging on, like he’d been waiting for me.

I sat on the smooth marble and set the cake box beside me before I gripped the edge of the bench with my fingers. He pulled a deck of cards out of his jacket then, with a flick of his wrist, the cards flew around in a whirl then reformed into a chair.

He lounged back on the face-cards chair, propping his feet in their slick black leather boots on the bench next to my cake box, and nodded at me. “You may proceed.”

I blinked at him. There was no way cards could hold his weight, but apparently, they didn’t know that. “Proceed?”

He gave me the slightest smile. “Did you not have some business you wished to discuss with me? Perhaps you’d like to see your father first.” He snapped his fingers, and an image appeared between us: my father in a cage above a crowd of people at different gaming tables. There were other cages, but they had dancers inside them. My dad didn’t dance, just glared, with rage and pain in his eyes that I’d never seen there before. He was dressed in feathers from the waist down, painted over his chest and arms, hair braided and pulled back in rows.

I stared at that face. How fierce and mean he looked. I’d never seen him like that. He looked like he’d bite the faces off all the goblins who’d attacked me. Or at least try. He was in danger of losing the person my mother had loved. That would be worse than death, to lose who he’d been.

I half-rose and glared at the devil. “You should’ve let him come to the funeral!” Then he wouldn’t look like a stranger. And why did the devil have to humiliate him by dressing him so ridiculously? My dad wore a button-down shirt and dark pants. Always kept his hair as neat as his nails. But this person wasn’t the father I knew, and it was all the devil’s fault.

He steepled his elegant fingers. “He was the collateral for the funeral. That’s the deal he made, and he was grateful that I made it considering how much he already owes me.” He cleared his throat and waved a hand, vanishing the image of my father. “Enough talk of money and debt. How can I help you?”

I glared at him. He had all the cards. Literally, because he was sitting on a chair made of them. And the worst thing was how incredibly gorgeous he was and how he had absolutely no shame about what he did, what he was. Sum-positive? And who calculated that? “How can you help me? You can release my father.”

He raised a brow. “Will that really help you? Where will you go? Even if I were to forgive his debts, where would that leave you? No, Miss…” He raised a brow. “How rude of me to proceed without introductions.” He gave me a slight bow. “I’m Philius Gray, and you are?”

I rolled my eyes and bared my capped teeth at him. “You know exactly who I am.”

His grin was unbearably charming. “Do I? How can you be sure if you don’t give me your name?” His eyes glittered, and I gripped the bench tighter.

“I’m not giving you anything.”

He laughed, throwing his head back then giving me the sweetest, most delighted smile. “Very well. Then I’ll be on my way. I’m sure there’s some tedious business I need to take care of in the castle. Enjoy my garden as long as you like.” He started to rise, and I grabbed his sleeve, the jacket’s fabric like cobwebs and stardust in my fingers.

“Wait! I’m Kesty Charles. That is, Charles is my father’s name, and I use it for a surname.” I swallowed hard while my heart tried to climb up my throat. “I’d like to make a deal with you.”

Chapter

Three

Iheld onto the devil’s sleeve, panic rising with every breath we stood there, him looking like a statue carved out of deliciousness. I licked my lips. “But nothing like souls, or my firstborn children, or anything like that.”

My words broke the spell, and he patted my hand and subtly pulled my jacket from his grasp as he settled back into his seat. “I don’t deal in children. At least not often. It’s bad enough to deal in animals. Do you like them?” He gazed at me expectantly, like he’d asked a very important question.

“Children?” I said, sinking back down slowly, folding my hands in my lap and feeling the slight sting of rejection for no reason. Not like I wanted to touch him, but he clearly wanted me to touch him even less than I didn’t want to touch him. Er.

“Animals.” He gave me a polite smile. “I have a judgmental white rabbit. Thus, the Wonderland theme, because otherwise it would be entirely ridiculous to have a white rabbit hanging around all the time.”

I blinked at him again. “You have a white rabbit? You’ve had it longer than you’ve had Wonderland? It’s been here as long as I can remember. How old is the rabbit? Don’t rabbits only live for a few years?”

He gave an elegant shrug. “It’s a magic rabbit.”

“Ah. Interesting that I’ve never heard about Wonderland’s magical white rabbit. You’d think it would be commented on.”

He waved a graceful hand dismissively. “It blends with the rest of the nonsense, oversized toadstools, the tweedles, and so forth. I hired a cat shifter to play the Cheshire cat, but she hated smiling, so I hired a different host. He’s an incubus. He loves smiling.”

“What happened to the cat shifter?” I asked, although none of this was remotely relevant. Did the devil always go off on tangents? It probably helped disarm his victims.

“Mrs. Rawley’s working security. Actually, head of security. So, do you like animals, Miss Charles?” He leaned forward, frowning at me like this was life and death. Was it? Would my answer propel him in one direction or another? Was he as unstable as the Mad Hatter in the stories?

“I don’t really know. I’ve never had a pet.”