Making a deal with the devil Himself is always a bad idea.
Three obligations had been set to her, in exchange for the
valued skill of the Sight.
When offered the deal months earlier, it had been a nobrainer.
To gain the ability to actually see her enemies—and rule
out the possible mistake of killing a mortal—Ravin had
jumped at the offer.
Jump wasn’t exactly the word. A guarded “sure” had sealed
the deal. For her soul was no longer her own. She hadn’t so
much sold it to the devil as loaned it.
Marked across the chest with a palpable tally, she had then
set to obligation number one. So easy, she almost had to
wonder why she’d lost sleep about making the deal. To merely
locate a sin eater and shut down his protection wards, seemed
to have pleased Himself immensely, so Ravin wasn’t about
to question whether or not she had gotten off easy. When the devil was happy there could be no doubt as to who was the
winner of that round.
There remained two obligations to repay her debt—and to
see her soul returned. Right now, she focused on the second—
another deceptively simple request.
Bent before the cupboard between her refrigerator and the
stainless-steel sink, Ravin looked at a six-inch glass vial, her
tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.
All week she had gathered ingredients for a love spell—
a child’s innocence and a cat’s seventh life being the most
difficult to come by. After careful measuring and summoning,
she’d brought the whole batch to a boil, and then let it
cool for an hour.
Now she hefted the copper brewing pot over the vial and
poured. Spiced-pear air freshener scented the room, overwhelming
the stench of the pot’s contents. She was careful to
ensure not a single drop was wasted.
Unless the entire contents were consumed, spells could prove
less than effective. In this case, six ounces of liquid could either
be drunk or spread over the skin like a moisturizer; itwasn’t particular,
as long as the ingredients were absorbed into the bloodstream.
Magic would render the absorption rate instantaneous.
“A freakin’ love spell,” she muttered.
Setting the pot back on the cool burner with a clang, she
straightened and searched the counter for the little square of
plastic wrap she’d cut out earlier. Overhead, a jungle of
hanging spider plants tendriled down, some tickling her head.
Plants gave her vital energy and kept the apartment’s balance.
