Deals with the Devil (PA #1)

Chapter 7

Elizabeth (Pride), Age Eleven

"You really need to take more pride in your appearance, Will," I snicker.

Willow sighs. "Eli, that joke wasn't funny when we were five and it's still not funny now. Can you please just help me with the back?"

Now I'm the one sighing as Willow hands me the scissors. They're bulky steel ones Willow received in exchange for her extensive time spent in the kitchens, probably still have traces of food on them, and definitely aren't meant to be used for cutting hair.

Unlike Priscilla's hack job two years ago, Willow wants this haircut to be somewhat decent. It would be easier and look much better if she went to the official court hairdressers, but Willow prefers it this way. Although I like the longer hair on her, she always chops it off to just past her shoulders.

I start evening out the back strands. "I'm just saying, long hair suits you more. Plus, no matter how many tutorials we watch and how hard we try, we never end up cutting it that well. Last time, it was completely lopsided; the guards talked about it behind your back. If I was capable of feeling embarrassed, I'm sure I would have then." I shudder just thinking about it.

"Believe me, I know what the guards were saying. I'm pretty sure that Rome even beat up a few, but he refused to own up to it."

That doesn't surprise me in the slightest. "I know I did. But stupid fucking Kenneth had it coming anyway. He always gives me the stink eye when I walk past him in the hallways. What kind of demon name is Kenneth, anyway? It doesn't exactly strike fear in the hearts of men when you share a first name with a famous saxophone player. Wannabe asshole."

Willow reaches back to slap my arm. "Eli, Kenneth has a really bad lazy eye. He wasn't giving you shit, that's just his face."

I drop the scissors back onto the table. "Oh, well, my point about his name still stands. It's lame and he should have changed it a long time ago. I'd blame his mother, but if she looks anything like Kenneth, then her life is already hard enough."

At that, Willow lets out a seemingly reluctant laugh. She never wants to encourage my "bad" behavior, but we both know that she secretly likes it. I'm the diabolical one, she's the pillar of morality and occasional accomplice. It works for us.

"I'm done by the way. You're not ready to hit the runway, but you also no longer look like someone going through a crisis, so there's that."

At my words, Willow grabs a handheld mirror and angles it towards the vanity mirror so that she can see the finished result.

"You know, I think this is our best work yet," she says as she lifts some of the brown strands.

Despite being born with light blonde hair, not unlike Alexander and Gwen's, Willow's hair darkened over the years to more of a medium brown. The darker hair makes her blue eyes pop, though she still thinks that her features are plain and boring. Willow is such a dodo bird sometimes.

Standing up, Willow brushes the cut pieces of hair off of her t-shirt and begins to clean up the floor. While there is definitely someone whose job it is to clean up messes like this, Willow refuses to make extra work for people.

If I really analyze all of the things she does—which is more of Aristotle's speed, really—then I might say that Willow tries to be independent as a way to feel like less of a burden in a place where she is often viewed as an outsider. Or maybe she just hates relying on anyone other than herself. Ugh, Aristotle is better at reading people than I am. Spend all of your time observing the world rather than participating in it and you're bound to pick up a few things. Stupid Sloth.

Apparently done with her task, Willow snatches my hand and starts pulling me toward the bathroom door. We enter my bedroom, still unfortunately decorated in pink with unicorns everywhere, before heading into the hall.

Here, she turns back to me and speaks in a whisper. "How do you feel about spying on Killian? He might actually complete his first shift today and I want to see it."

Confused as to why she took me out of a private space and into a public one in order to ask a question like that, I just twirl my black hair around my finger before responding. "Will, the first shift isn't like some secret ritual or something. It's important, sure, but we could literally just walk onto the training grounds and watch it. No one will stop us."

Willow visibly deflates. She really loves sneaking around places, and she probably came up with an elaborate plan to watch Killian's first shift without being seen, so I understand her disappointment. "Well, in that case, let's just go then."

I pat her on the back. "It's okay, Will. Next time you want help spying on people without their knowledge, I'm your girl."

Willow smiles at me before sticking her pinky finger out. "Soul sisters for life?"

I link my pinky with hers in promise. "Soul sisters for life, Will. Nothing and no one will ever come between us. Especially not dumb boys."

She raises one of her eyebrows before asking, "Any boys in particular that you're thinking about, Eli?"

Although I hate to admit it, I blush. She smirks while I stammer out, "Absolutely not. All boys are gross. Even the ones who smell like warm earth and bonfires."

"That seems oddly specific, Eli. And I'm pretty sure I only know of one boy who smells like that. As a matter of fact, we're already on the way to see him! Does Killian know that you have a crush on him?"

I shove my hand over her mouth. "Shut up, I definitely do not have a crush on that mutt. And if you repeat any of this to anyone, I will gut you like a fish."

I remove my hand so that she can tell me that she agrees. Of course, she does no such thing.

"I'd be more scared of your threats if you weren't so squeamish, Eli. You literally fainted when I got my first period and you saw the blood."

I gasp. "That was unnaturally horrific! There's no way that all human women go through that every month. It was like a waterfall! I swear I've seen some of Ragnar's victims with less blood coming out of their bodies than that. And he likes them bloody."

She cringes thinking about Ragnar and his bloody appetite. As much as she tends to fit in with all of us, at the end of the day, she's still a human with a moral compass and we are still immoral beings of Hell.