Clarissa flipped open her laptop and powered it on. Once the system finished booting up, she ran a basic search for local establishments that might prove to be hotspots. By the time she was done, she’d managed to fill the piece of paper with half a dozen prospects. Armed with that, she hurried outside and jumped back into the Miata. She glanced at the time on the dashboard. A little under two hours before she’d be able to catch the first sailing on the casino cruise. She could hit a couple of bars in the meantime. If she was lucky, Seven would be working under the same game plan.
The first couple of bars she tried were on West Bay Street, practically next-door neighbors to each other. It made for convenience, but unfortunately she didn’t spot any of the sins. By the time she walked into the fourth joint—a small hole-in-the-wall appropriately named Cubbies—her confidence in tracking Seven had started to take a nosedive, but not her determination. She ordered a soda, and with her bladder bemoaning the addition of yet another beverage, found an empty booth tucked in the corner. For roughly fifteen minutes, the only real action seemed to be centered around the group of frat boys trying to score dates with the cute waitress hanging around their table. But then she felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.
Everyone else appeared clueless of the sensation as they continued drinking and laughing and carrying on like a predator hadn’t invaded their idyllic haven. But she’d encountered that magnetic force field enough times to recognize it. Furthermore, she’d been waiting for it.
Inching closer to the end of the banquet seat, she searched the bar’s patrons for her quarry. A tingle of shocked awareness jolted down her spine when she spotted the portly trucker who’d contracted her father’s soul. She followed the creature’s cold, assessing gaze toward the table where a man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair sat, his stooped frame hunched over a pitcher of beer. A long trail of ash fell from the man’s forgotten cigarette as he stared bleakly at the lineup of empty glasses in front of him.
A fierce rage slowly filled her as she took in the similarities between the stranger and her father. Was this what had drawn Seven’s heartless, calculating personality? An individual who’d given up on life and sought solace in booze and nicotine in hopes of dulling whatever pain haunted him?
The trucker started toward the man’s table with a purposeful stride, and she rushed from the booth, her focus glued to the creature’s jiggling potbelly. They reached the stranger at the same time, and she had the distinct honor of witnessing the trucker’s eyes flicker with surprise as she dropped into the vacant seat next to its intended victim. As if suddenly aware that she’d gained some semblance of an upper hand, the sin’s features tightened in annoyance.
“Clarissa. I didn’t realize we were due for a meeting today.” Although the words were delivered in an amused drawl, a distinct warning glinted in those reptilian eyes as the trucker lowered into the opposite chair. “Whatever this is pertaining to, it’ll have to wait. Jack and I have business to attend to.”
She squared her chin, refusing to back down. “Don’t mind me.” She slid her gaze to the stranger, who was gaping at her in bafflement. “Whatever he’s promised you isn’t worth it.”
The man blinked, apparently taken aback by either her vehemence or the fact that she knew about his predicament. “How…?”
“Because I’m guilty of the same mistake you’re about to commit.” She covered the stranger’s hand with her own, and was shocked that she didn’t feel even the slightest awkwardness over the gesture. Lifting her scrutiny from their linked hands, she met the man’s confused stare. “Please don’t do this. I’ve seen what happens once the contract is collected upon. Believe me, whatever hell you’re facing now is nothing compared to what that monster sitting across from us has in store for you.”
A tsking noise came from the trucker. “Monster? Must we resort to name-calling?”
“Trust me, that’s the kindest of the names I have for you.”
The sin leaned back in its seat, the creature’s posture hinting at a bored tolerance of her presence. “Whatever you’re hoping to accomplish here is a waste of time. Jack isn’t looking for salvation. The only thing he cares about is wallowing in excess. Alcohol, women, cigarettes. Whatever his drug of choice, I’m here to provide it.”
Jack’s hand went limp beneath hers. His lips trembled, his shoulders drooping even more. “He’s right. Those things are all I need. All I want.”
“No, they’re not.” Desperation clawing at her, she squeezed his knuckles. “They’re a weak substitution for something else. Something that’s lacking in your life. Or that you’re too afraid to face. I know it’s scary, thinking you don’t have any other choice. But you do. You can choose to turn your back on everything that’s ever pulled you down into this bottomless pit. You can turn your back on him.”
A fierce tremor suddenly shook through Jack, and he ripped his hand from beneath hers, his features twisting in anger. “You don’t know what it’s like, so don’t fucking judge me, lady.”
His sudden outrage wasn’t entirely unexpected. She’d dealt with similar outbursts countless times with her parents. “I’m not judging you. And I do understand. All too well. I’m only trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your goddamn help.” Jack glared at the trucker. “Where is that fucking contract?”
“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded again. Her heart felt like it was shriveling as the sin smiled and produced the document. She tried to take the pen from Jack, but he only shoved her away and quickly scribbled his name on the bottom line.
“That’s the thing about humans. They don’t truly want to be saved. Might as well accept it.” The sin tucked the contract away and stood. “Well, Jack ole boy, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Just one last thing before I run…” A sneer tilting those fleshy lips, the trucker tipped Jack’s chin up and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth. Straightening, the creature sent her a mocking grin. “No need to be jealous. He’s not nearly as good a kisser as you are, from what Envy’s said.” And with that parting shot, the sin vanished.
She stared glumly at Jack, who seemed to be completely uninterested in her presence. When he ordered a fresh pitcher of beer and a round of shots, she stood and headed for the exit, a wave of helpless defeat roiling in her stomach. Once outside, she took a deep breath, her determination returning to the forefront. Yes, she’d lost this battle, but it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. Checking the display on her phone, she quickened her pace. She had less than fifteen minutes before the riverboat left its mooring. Given Seven’s haste in getting that last contract out of the way, she had little doubt that the creature would likely be on that boat.
And so would she.
She made it on the ship with mere seconds to spare. While she caught her breath, she strolled the gaming decks, on the lookout for whichever of Seven’s personalities would be prowling for the next victim. The noisy cacophony of the slot machines provided a frenetic soundtrack as she wove through the crowd. She neared the higher-paying slots and spotted a familiar figure. This personality was female, decked head to toe in a champagne silk sheath and cultured pearls. In other words, the trappings of a wealthy socialite. Greed, perhaps?
Keeping her focus fixed on the sin’s austere ash-blonde bun, Clarissa elbowed past the congested traffic clustered around the Blackjack tables. She reached Greed just as the personality accepted a cocktail from a passing waiter. The creature’s scarlet-painted lips curved in a travesty of a smile. “Persistent little thing, aren’t you?”