several weapons were stored. Jones paused. “Moira said so too. Do not doubt that.”
Winston heard the sorrow in Jones’s voice and, for a brief moment, he felt sympathy for the devil. Poppy, however, seemed to suffer no such sentimentality.
“Tragic for you,” she snapped.
Flames erupted over Jones’s face as he growled. “Then it shall be your child and husband, and I will gladly take them to see you suffer.”
“No!” Winston shouted. “I will tell you.”
Poppy pulled a blade free. “Another word and I will kill you.”
Win’s fists bunched, but he didn’t move. He dared not overplay his hand now.
Poppy looked away first, her white skin glowing in the moonlight as she studied Jones. “Let us get to the heart of this. Do not pretend that you did not hunt down Win that night fourteen years ago in order to arrange this very moment.”
“Of course I did.” Jones sneered. “You and yours stole from me, hunted me down as if I were at fault.” He stabbed his thumb against his chest. “You imprisoned me.”
“Yes.” Poppy did not so much as blink, yet she appeared to look down her nose at the demon. Such a perfect Poppy gesture. “And you hate me for it.”
Jones flinched as if slapped, but then stood taller. “I want you to suffer.”
“Then take me.”
“Poppy, no.” In two steps, Win was at her side. “Do not do this.” He had to make a good show of it, make it appear that he did not want her to suggest this very offer. He grabbed her arm and gave it a small, imploring squeeze.
“You no longer have a say.” She shook him off, her strength almost too much. He shot her a look but let go, stepping back. Poppy lifted her brow as she looked at Jones. “Well? Take me and leave Win and my child alone. They aren’t what you really want at any rate.”
Jones cocked his head. “And my son? I will see him.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “When he is of age, I will give him the option of being introduced to you.”
Seconds ticked past. Time in which Winston felt as though his life was ebbing out of him. Everything ached; his muscles were tight with fear and helpless rage. Almost finished now.
“It is a good bargain,” Poppy said in a low voice.
Jones’s smile was smug. “Yes. It is.” His eyes turned white as snow. “Terms.”
“My child will not be snuffed out of existence. Win’s soul goes free. In return, you get what you see.” She spread her arms wide and willing, before cocking a brow. “I’ll need that in writing.”
Fire and ice flared in Jones’s eyes but he simply drew out another rolled foolscap. “Here. Does that meet with your approval?”
Poppy hesitated, and it seemed that Jones leered over her. Thoughtfully, she rested her knuckles against her chin. “One contract should be to free Win and the child. The other should be for me.”
Everything stilled as Jones studied her. Poppy stared back. “I do not trust you.”
Jones’s teeth flashed in the light. “Nor I you.” Watching her, he reached into his pocket and pulled free another contract. “Winston Lane’s blood will be needed for this.”
Poppy’s eyes narrowed. “As I thought.” She glanced at Win, and he steeled himself not to react. “Sign it.”
“And if I don’t?” His voice nearly broke.
“Then our child will be destroyed.”
Not looking at either of them, he pricked himself and signed in blood. His eyes burned as he watched the crimson stain of his name spread across the paper. Jones’s pale hand came into view. With an elaborate flourish, he pricked his finger and made a sign in black blood. Hieroglyphics. Win glanced at the demon but Jones was already stepping away, his attention on Poppy.
“Now yours.”
Poppy accepted the next scroll. With Jones’s glare burning into her, Poppy read the contract over. “Quill?”
Jones’s nostrils flared as he took another breath and then handed Poppy the same black feather quill that he’d presented to Winston. Poppy took the quill in hand, and Win’s heart nearly slammed out of his ribs, his anticipation was so thick. On a sharp curse, he paced away, feeling the weight of Jones’s mocking stare with every step. Steady on. Almost there.
Poppy pricked her finger, then leaned forward to sign.
“Poppy.”
She looked up at Winston’s call. Their eyes met, and he swallowed hard. “I…”
“Get on with it,” snapped Jones.
The red fan of her lashes lowered, and with the self-same flourish as Jones, she signed. Win sagged against the