Her family didn't believe in the occult. They believed in law and medicine and the effects of money on human behavior.

But none of that had saved them, so she'd contacted the occult.

A crest, the smell of blood, the call of his name.

He met her as a crow.

"There's no way to get them back," he said to her. Once something was truly lost it could never be regained.

"I know that," she said. "That wasn't what I was asking you."

"Revenge spoils many clean souls," he said. "Even if you don't involve a demon."

"I'm not doing it for me," she said. "I'm doing it for HIM."

"If you make this contract with me, you'll never get your soul back."

"Fuck my soul. What about HIS?"

"It's going to hurt," he said.

"Stop trying to talk me out of it. If you don't help me, I'll find someone who WILL."

Of course she would. And they would take her, too, no warnings, no questions, no time to rethink.

"When you get what you want, your soul becomes mine," he said. "With a contract in place, that process can't be stopped."

"Yes, I know! Just make a contract with me!"

He looked down. She was small, just a child.

She was angry and hurt and grasping for anything she could hold.

There were worse demons out there. But she'd landed HIM.

"Very well."