A Wolf at the Door

Reggie’s office was one of many in an agency full of agents and lawyers. The receptionist at the front couldn’t have been more than twenty, and her skirt was hiked up so high I could almost see things I shouldn’t have even been paying attention to. Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I’m guessing she wasn’t hired for her intellect. She barely looked up from texting on her phone to nod us in. Apparently Gretchen had an all-access pass.

Reggie himself was behind his desk when we walked in, preening in a hand mirror, and he stood up with a broad smile when he saw who it was. “Gretchen honey! What are you doing here? Did I miss an appointment?”

“No no, we’re just dropping in.” She exchanged hugs with him, then plopped herself in one of his comfy leather chairs. “We’re actually here because I need a copy of some paperwork.”

“Of course. Which?” He perched himself on the edge of his desk, but he couldn’t help darting a glance toward me. I smirked in my head, but kept it off my face. He was trying to figure out why I was here, what this was all about. Good. Let him wonder.

“My contract.”

He chuckled. “More specific? You have a lot of contracts, honey.”

“This one.” She held out her arm, displaying the writhing black tattoo. “I need to see some things.”

He raised one sandy brow, but nodded and walked to one of his file cabinets. “Are you…thinking of backing out?”

“I don’t know yet. I just want to see it.”

Reggie shot me a venomous glance at that, like somehow it was all my fault. Well, okay, it was. Suck it, just like my shirt said.

It took him a few minutes of flipping through files to find it. I didn’t believe for a moment that he didn’t know exactly which document it was. He was stalling, trying to figure out what we were doing and how to undo any damage I’d done. “Ah, here we are. But I don’t know how much good it’s going to do you.”

Gretchen took the offered document from him. Somehow, I’d expected it to be scrawled in blood on parchment, or human skin or something, but it was just a regular old contract, printed on legal-sized paper. Unfortunately, it was written in the scrawling demon script, and it wriggled as we looked at it. The only legible thing was Gretchen’s signature on the final page, along with a smaller version of the tattoo on her arm—the demon’s signature, so to speak.

Reggie stood silently, letting her flip through the pages—there had to be at least twenty of them. Long, detailed contract—before he cleared his throat. “Can I ask what you’re looking for?”

“The loophole.” Gretchen had her head down, so she didn’t see Reggie go a little gray under his tan. I did. “You remember the loophole, don’t you, Reggie?” She fixed him with a piercing stare when she finally raised her eyes to him. Maybe she hadn’t missed him going pale after all. Y’know, I had to admit. The girl kinda impressed me.

“It’s been a long time since I negotiated that one, Gretchen. I don’t recall any particular loophole.”

“Read it to me.” She stood up from her chair, thrusting the papers at him. Somehow, she managed to tower over him despite the fact that he had a good four inches on her, even with her in heels. “Find me the part that explains exactly what this loophole is, and why something tried to kill me today.”

His gaze shifted back and forth between Gretchen and me. I just crossed my arms over my chest and did my best to look intimidating. She had this under control, apparently. When he got no reaction from me, and Gretchen continued to stab him with her frosty baby blues, he sighed and leaned against his desk again.

“I can’t read the language, Gretchen. But, if I had to guess, the other assets that you’ve gathered over the last five years—”

“Souls,” Gretchen interrupted. “Souls I’ve gathered.”

Reggie nodded reluctantly. “Souls. I believe that the original intent was for those to go to the demon who offered you your contract. However, if there is anything in that contract that might leave ownership…ambiguous…well, that might be worth killing over, don’t you think?”

“Ambiguous how? How is ownership decided?”

Reggie shook his head. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t remember any such phrase when I negotiated this one. It may all come down to some interpretation in the language.”

Gretchen frowned. “We need someone to translate this, then.”

“There I can’t help you. I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “But if someone wants those surplus assets—”

“Souls!” We both looked at Gretchen in surprise when she raised her voice. “They are souls, Reggie! Not assets, not commodities, they are people’s souls. And someone is willing to kill to get them from me. And while I know I’m not going to get old, the idea of being tortured or something is pretty high on my list of things not to do before I die!” She shook the contract in his face. “You did this. You’re the one who fucked up this contract, and now something is after me. We all know I’m gonna die young. Live fast, leave a good-looking corpse. Leave a tragic legacy behind. That was part of the plan. This? This was not.”