“You know,” he said, setting his ball cap on my desk and easing forward to whisper. “The supernatural kind.”

“Ah. Right. Because they’re on every street corner. So, this demon you sold your soul to—”

“Devil,” he corrected, punching the air with an index finger. “He was the devil.”

“Okay, first of all, the devil is never on this plane this time of year, so if the guy who bought your soul says he’s the boss man himself, he’s lying.”

“Seriously?” he asked, surprised. “Well, maybe he didn’t say he was the devil, but he had powers, you know? He had an intensity I felt every time he looked at me, like the weight of it alone could crush me. And he has my soul. It’s gone. I can’t feel it anymore.” He patted his clothes as though searching for his wallet.

Wonderful. Mr. Joyce was crazy. I took out a pen and pad. “Okay, can you describe your soul in detail? I’ll put out a BOLO.”

He leaned back, annoyed with me. It happened. “I thought that you of all people would understand.”

I put down my pen. “Why me of all people?”

“I know what you are,” he said. “He told me.”

“The devil told you?”

“No, the guy.” He raked a hand through his hair. “The guy who took my soul. Maybe he just took it for the devil. I don’t know.”

As entertaining as this was, I needed to call Uncle Bob and ask him what was going on with my dad. No way did I call Dad. If he didn’t want me to know something, I damned sure didn’t know.

“Okay, well, thanks for coming in, Mr. Joyce, but—”

“Hedeshi!” he shouted, remembering a name. A name that I knew well.

“Hedeshi is dead,” I said, wondering how he knew the name of the demon sent to kill me. Thankfully, I had the son of Satan and a guardian departed Rottweiler named Artemis backing me up, or I wouldn’t have been there at all.

“Right, he told me about Hedeshi. Said he was dead. During the card game, he’d—”

“Card game?”

“The poker game,” he said, growing more agitated by the second. “The one where I lost my soul.”

I clasped my fingers together. “Let me get this straight. You gambled your soul away?”

“Well … no. Not exactly. I needed money. He knew it. Used it against me.” Shame washed over him in one bright-hot wave. “It was for a good cause. I needed money and he had the highest game in town, so I took a chance. I hocked everything we had just to get a seat at the table, and then I lost every penny.” He scrubbed his forehead, embarrassed. “When he saw how distressed I was, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I said yes. I sold him my soul.”

“Of course you did. Hedeshi,” I reminded him.

He squinted his eyes, trying to remember. “The guy, the dealer, said there was a grim reaper in town wreaking all kinds of havoc on his brethren. Said you managed to kill one of the top generals from hell, a man named Hedeshi.”

How on earth did some dealer from an illicit card game know that? “And how do you know I’m this grim reaper?”

“Because everyone told me,” he said, his voice getting louder. “Look, can you just go talk to this guy? Just get it back? I’ll pay you.”

“I thought you didn’t have any money. That was why you were at the card game in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, I got some. I got a lot. Selling one’s soul is very profitable.” He bowed his head, and the heartache that spread through him stung the backs of my eyes. “Turns out even money can’t cure cancer.”

Son of a bitch. The big C. My most hated enemy.

“Look, I just need my soul. He can have everything back. I just need my soul to be with her. I promised.”

So, a woman he loved had died, and now he wanted his soul back so he could be with her. That was also new.

“You’re the only one who’s ever stood up to one of these guys. No one else will even try.”

“There’s a good reason for that. They’re rather deadly.”

“I’ll do anything. You can have it all. The money. The cars. Everything. My husband and I are devastated.”

And once again, I was taken aback. Just when I thought I knew what was going on. “Your husband?”

“Yes. Paul. We got married in Massachusetts the minute they legalized it.”

“Then who is this ‘she’ you promised to spend eternity with?”

The huge tears shimmering in his eyes as he looked up at me stole my breath and my heart in the same moment. “Our daughter. She was only three when she passed away from neuroblastoma. I got her the best medical care money could buy, but it made no difference.” He took out his wallet and retrieved a picture out of it. Two actually. Handing them to me, he asked, “Do you know what it’s like watching a three-year-old girl die of cancer? She was so brave. She only wanted one thing—our promise that we’d be with her in heaven someday.” His voice broke as I studied the pictures. A gorgeous girl with blond ringlets and huge blue eyes graced the first one. The second one had been taken after a few rounds of chemo, her bald head, no less beautiful, shining in the sun as she flew down a slide, her smile as wide as the New Mexico sky. “We both promised her we’d see her again. Paul doesn’t know what I did for all of this. He doesn’t know I can’t keep our promise.”