Prologue

A Deal with the Devil

'Hell is the highest reward that the devil can offer you for being his servant.'

-Billy Graham

This is a dumb idea.

The thought is on a loop in my mind as I step into the elevator.

Literally the dumbest idea you've ever had. Do you want to get yourself killed?

The doors open and I step out cautiously, quickly taking in all possible threats and escape routes. I slowly walk to the door and prepare to knock, but hesitate.

Even if this isn't a trap and he doesn't kill you, what are you even going to say?

Taking a deep breath, I knock. I hear footsteps approaching the door. This is my last chance to turn tail and run, which every part of me wants to do. Instead, I keep my feet planted firmly on the ground and casually reach one of my hands my jacket pocket. Finally, the door opens.

I almost don't recognize him.

He's taller then I remember. He looks washed out, all the colors striped away from him until all that was left behind was grey, exhaustion radiating off him in waves. But then his eyes meet mine, and I know for sure it's him. Pale blue eyes that carry an unspoken threat. Eyes like my mothers. Eyes like mine.

"Hello Belle." He says, his voice calm, as if this isn't the first time we've seen each other in over in almost six years.

I don't know how to respond, my throat closing up.

"Hey Uncle Chris," I finally choke out, trying not to sound too pathetic. "You look like shit." I quickly add, clearing my throat.

Chris lets out a short breath with a hint of a smile, before stepping out of the way, giving me access into the apartment. I wearily step inside, hyperaware of Chris' movements, ready to defend myself. But instead of attacking he simply closes the door and offers to take my jacket. I shake my head, keeping my hand securely in my pocket. Chris steps ahead of my and motions me to follow. He leads us into a room with a desk. His war room. I can practically feel all the hidden weapons aiming at me. Chris sits behind the desk, staring at me. We stay like this for a while, silently watching each other, before I begin walking around the room.

"I heard about Aunt Victoria," I say, breaking the silence "I'm sorry for your loss." I don't look at Chris, but I hear him shift uncomfortably.

"Yes, well," He begins, obviously trying to keep this conversation impersonal. "Comes with the territory."

"Yes, I suppose it does…" I mumble, finally turning to look at him.

"Why am I here, Chris?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see my niece." He suggests, his face unreadable.

I snort in annoyance. "Well, you had six years for that."

"It was complicated. If I contacted you, I'd be breaking the code," He says, shrugging. "Due to your… condition." He adds, looking straight into my eyes.

"So, what happened that made you feel the need to contact me despite my 'condition'?" I ask, borrowing his word. "Has the code lost its appeal?"

"No," he assures me, leaning back in his chair "We have a new code now."

"Well, now that surprises me," I say, anger slowly creeping into my voice. "Where was this willingness to abandon the old values when you came after Nathaniel and I?"

Chris doesn't answer. He doesn't lose his composure. He doesn't show remorse. While I wish I could say I'm just as composed, I'm not. I'm pissed. The anger is running through my veins, causing me to shake slightly. How can he just sit there and –

A test. He's testing me. I roll my eyes in defeat.

"How did you even find me?" I ask instead, deciding to fight about it later. This needs to stay civil.

"Well, it wasn't easy," He admitted, opening a drawer and pulling out a folder.

"Your father knew what he was doing; he had the entire Hunter community running in circles, looking for you two. And once he died, we may as well have been chasing a ghost."

He opens the folder. It's full of foreign newspaper clippings and crime scene photos. "I followed your exploits the best I could," He motions to the pictures,

"Germany, France, Greece, Italy, Netherlands," He motions to a different picture for each. "To be perfectly honest, it was pure luck that I had a contact in Bulgaria that recognized you."

I arch my eyebrow in surprise. "How could he recognize me? I haven't had any contact with you people since I was a pre-teen."

Chris' features softened. "You are your mother's daughter." He said, simply.

Then the softness is gone.

"Alright Belle, let's cut the crap," He begins, "You're angry with me, and I understand why. What we did was wrong; I knew it and I still did nothing to stop what happened. Trust me, I'm not very pleased with myself about my actions, either. And normally, I wouldn't risk summoning you back to North America out of the blue unless I had a reason. But I'm desperate, and I need your help." He waits for my response.

I narrow my eyes- I should've known. He simply wants a favor. I begin to turn to leave.

"Belle, I know you're scared and tired of running,"

I freeze when he says the word 'scared'. But I can't deny it. Six years of looking over my shoulder doesn't do much to make me look very brave.

"Help me, and then let me make all of this up to you. Please, Belle."

I turn around and stare at him for a moment.

"That was honestly… the dumbest shit I've ever heard in my life. Honestly, for a man known for his silver-tongue, that was the most convoluted attempt at manipulation I've ever had to bear witness too."

I pull my revolver out from my pocket and point it at him.

"What's to stop me from helping you 'make it up to me' right now?"

That's when the front door opens. Keeping my gun aimed at Chris, I turn my head to the office door, listening to the noises outside.

"Dad?" A voice calls. The voice is vaguely familiar, as if from a dream.

"Allison." I mouth the name, frozen in shock.

I look back at Chris. He's watching me, judging my reaction. He tilts his head, as if to say, your move. My grip on tightens, the only outward sign of my inner conflict.

Finally, I spoke.

"I'll help you, but I have conditions."

"Name 'em."

"Firstly, I want my own apartment. You provide half the rent money, cash. I chose the place independently. You get no knowledge of the address. Secondly, I am aloud to bring in a single person of my own. You will grant them complete immunity and protection, no matter who or what they are. Thirdly, you don't tell Allison anything about my… illness. I have 'medication' to repress it, but I'll need you to help me find someone to recreate it once I run out."

Chris raises an eyebrow.

"Is that all?"

"No, one more thing."

Chris signals for me to proceed.

"You don't tell Alice I'm here."

He looks at me, a sort of steely look in his eyes.

Chris sighs, obviously conflicted about something. But then he stands up and offers his hand.

"Deal."

I hesitate for a moment, but ultimately lower the revolver and take his hand in my own. The sensation of his calloused hand around mine brings about a feeling of nostalgia. It's been such a long time. After a moment we separate our hands.

"Well, now that we have that settled, let's re-introduce you to your cousin."