Good.
“Here.” I thrust the phone through the bars. “Call Willa and tell her to bring the contract amendment to the courthouse tomorrow.”
Conrad dialed from memory—had it only been days since he’d been CEO of Iver PR? I screwed up my forehead and counted on my fingers. There was the day he and I had died, then the week Hell had skipped when the time engineers had jump-started the time-syncing machine, then the day Shannon had been arrested. Then the bail hearing. Ten days. I shook my head. Ten days from my death to now. It seemed so much longer, even taking the missed week into account.
Conrad left a terse order on Willa’s office voice mail.
“There,” he said. “She’ll hear that when she gets in tomorrow and bring the amendment to me.” He pocketed the phone and frankly, I didn’t care. Let him call all the lawyers and press conferences his evil heart desired.
“So to be clear,” I said, grasping the bars and leaning into them. My throat hurt and I was worried I might strain my injured vocal cords and end up unable to speak at all. “When Willa brings the contract amendment by, I’ll sign it in blood—Theresa Mudders’ blood—and the soul of Theresa Mudders, which is standing right here next to Shannon, will be sacrificed so you can have twenty-five more years.”
Dante looked at me sharply. I willed him not to say anything and for once, it worked.
“Sure, whatever. I don’t care who, as long as there’s blood on the signature line.”
“And at that time, you’ll vacate Shannon’s body for this one and we’ll do what we can to re-ensoul Shannon.”
“I said so already, didn’t I?”
“Conrad Percival Iver, on behalf of her benighted Underlordship, Lucy Phurr, I hereby decree that thou hast made a Deal to which thou must sticketh.” I spat on my hand and held it out.
“Deal.” A smarmy grin spread over the face Conrad wore, as he too spat on his borrowed palm and clasped it against mine. A single pump was enough for me and I ripped my hand away, wiping it on Theresa’s uniform.
“Get some sleep,” I told him. “You’ve got your day in court tomorrow.”
I turned on my heel and stalked back the way I’d come. Dante awaited me in the deserted corridor again. “Kirsty, what are you up to? You know we can’t make Deals without official sanction and you lied about Theresa’s soul being available for trade.”
It was my turn to smile smugly. “That’s right, Fred.” He started at my use of a name other than his. “But in spite of that, I just made a helluva Deal. Lucy would be so proud.”
Or would she? Was taking the devil’s name in vain one of the seven deadly sins?
Chapter 13
Clearing the Heir
I STALKED AWAY from Dante, returning to my room in the prison infirmary.
“Everything okay, Theresa?” The night nurse stuck his head in.
“Who? Oh, yes, of course. Thanks, uh, Jim.” I hoped I’d gotten his name right and not sounded like I’d hit my head. I needed to be given a clean bill of health in order to accompany Conrad to court tomorrow.
I lay in bed staring at the wall clock. Even it was behind bars. They must have worried it would make a break for it. After all, tempus fugit.
Exhausted from having a body again, I fell asleep almost immediately. I dreamt of swarms of staplers buzzing around me like giant metal gnats. They grew scorpion-style tails similar to the dreaded gee-gnomes, only with staples for stingers. I kicked and hopped out of their metallic range, screaming for Dante to help me, but could only make muffled, underwater noises.
Then I dreamt the swirling vortex of evil reopened, but instead of sucking things in, a figure appeared in the gateway between Hell and Heller. At first it looked like the angelic Beatrice. I smiled at her, but the smile melted off my face as the interdimensional being morphed into Rod the jerk from the Reaper Academy. Instead of a scythe, a gavel or a flaming sword, he brandished a vacuum cleaner wand hooked up to some sort of jet-pack strapped to his back. In my dream, I laughed in Rod’s face, singing “Who ya gonna call?” The laughter died on my lips when he activated the device and sucked my soul into his backpack of evil.
“Lemme out! Lemme out! Lemme—!”
I sat straight up in bed, lungs heaving, blood racing, heart pounding. And I had all those things once again.
“You okay, Theresa?” the night nurse called.
Theresa, who? Oh, right. I was Theresa. I was alive again. I pushed my hair back from my sweaty face, willing the adrenaline rush to subside. “Just a nightmare,” I panted, voice less hoarse than yesterday.
“Time to get up anyway. Here’s your breakfast tray. I’m heading off. Day nurse has gone to get herself a coffee.”
I nodded, accepting the food and hoping for a shower.
Twenty minutes later I was fed, showered and lacing up Theresa’s comfortable shoes.
On the way back from my Deal-making meeting with Conrad in the night I’d taken a side trip to the women’s locker room to scavenge some clean clothes. I pulled Theresa’s fresh uniform on and futzed with my new hair. I brushed it forward and then combed it back. After trying several complicated styles, I wove it into the short braid Theresa usually wore. She had been a very attractive woman even with a severe hair style and no makeup.
Hands on hips, I swiveled right, then left. Theresa looked pretty good on me. She was slim, fit and pretty. Maybe Shannon could have this body if we couldn’t manage to oust Conrad from hers. It was a backup plan.
Or maybe I’d keep it.
I left the infirmary thinking I could stay in this body. Nobody would miss it. I’d been cheated out of mine, after all. I could have a life on the Coil and still be a Reaper after I’d lived to a ripe old age and died in my sleep.
Dante had said he’d wait for me. Or maybe we weren’t together anymore. I was pretty pissed at him for calling me the wrong name . . . again! But I was willing to forgive him, if he apologized hard enough. If only—Ow!
I hadn’t been watching where I was going and had walked into a door, expecting to pass right through it.
I rubbed the fast-rising egg on my forehead. Nice. Now I had a matching set: a purple lump on my forehead plus maroon and black finger marks ringing my borrowed throat. I stepped back and opened the door first, then walked through it.
Why would anybody want a body when they could move about the Coil without needing to eat, sleep or pee. It was liberating, freeing. Like running around naked only with clothes on.
Besides, if I was alive and Dante was dead, could we still have sex? Would we be able to keep the romance in necromancy? Assuming we still had a romance.
I rubbed my head some more and tried to swallow past my sore throat. My stomach felt queasy. Was that a cramp coming on? Five minutes ago I’d considered staying in Theresa’s body. Now I couldn’t wait to get out of this living carcass. Conrad could have it, cramps and all.
I grabbed a coffee and joined my escort detail. Maddy’s usual guard had her prisoner cuffed and ready to go. In all the body swap excitement, I’d forgotten Maddy’s preliminary hearing was piggybacking on Conrad’s.
The drive into town was busier today, largely because I had a body and a job. The job was easy: keep your eyes on your charge and your hand on your weapon. The body wasn’t. I jostled and bounced like before, once again earning myself a numb butt.