indiscretion on display. “Okay, yes, it sounds bad. But your parents dug their own holes, and you can’t hold yourself responsible when they fall in.” I popped open my own can and took a sip, still thinking. “Are poverty and embarrassment really worse than eternal torture?”
Addy shook her head halfheartedly. “No, and I know I probably deserve whatever I get. But Regan doesn’t, and neither does anyone else I wind up hurting.” She met my gaze, her pale blue eyes swimming in tears again. “Remember last year, when Thad Evans flipped his car? He killed two people and messed up his own face for good when he went through the windshield. Then he lost nearly everything he owned in lawsuits from the dead kids’ parents, and the rest of it to crooked accountants and lawyers. And what about—”
“Whoa, wait a minute.” I rubbed my temples with both hands, fighting off a headache from information overload as everything she’d told us finally began to sink in. “Are you saying that all the Dekker stars with wholesome images and squeaky-clean backgrounds are actually soulless human husks, and Hollywood’s bad boys and girls are really the good guys, because they got their souls back?”
She stared down into her can. “I wouldn’t exactly call them good guys for taking the out-clause.”
“What does that mean?” Nash pulled a throw pillow from behind his back, then dropped it on the floor beside the couch.
Addison glanced at Tod instead of answering. The reaper sighed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and his focus shifted from Nash to me, then back to Nash. “There’s a little complication with the out-clause.”
My stomach churned. Something told me his definition of a “little complication” and mine wouldn’t have much in common.
“Addy doesn’t actually have a copy of her contract….”
“I was barely sixteen,” Addison interrupted, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. “It never occurred to me to ask for a copy to keep.”
Nash scowled at her, hazel eyes swirling rapidly with mounting anger. “Or to actually read the damned thing before you signed it, I’m guessing.”
“Wait, isn’t sixteen too young to sign a contract without your mom’s permission?” I asked, hoping I’d just discovered a brilliant legal loophole.
Tod’s blue-eyed gaze seemed to darken. “The Netherworld considers humans adult once they hit puberty.”
I frowned. “That’s messed up.”
He shrugged. “It’s the Netherworld. And she had no idea she was entitled to a copy of her contract, and hellions aren’t known for explaining your rights up front.” He deliberately shifted his focus to me. “Anyway, I asked around a little bit today.”
The sick look on his face told me I didn’t want to know who he’d spoken to, or what he’d had to do for the information.
“… and if Addy’s contract reads like all the rest of them do—and I’m sure it does—her out-clause requires an exchange.”
“What?” I blinked, hoping I’d heard him wrong, or was misunderstanding something. “An exchange like my mom made? A life for a life?” The horror crawling through me had no equal. I rubbed my arms, trying to keep goose bumps at bay, but they rose, anyway.
“A soul for a soul,” Tod corrected, staring at the floor for a second before meeting my gaze again. “But basically, yes. Addy can only get her soul back by trading it for another one.”
“Wait.” Nash rubbed his forehead, like that might help the new information sink in. “Souls can’t be stolen. They can only be taken when someone dies, or given up freely by their owner.”
I searched Addison’s face, struggling with my own mounting nausea. “So, all those people you mentioned? They all had to kill someone to get their souls back?”
“Or recruit someone,” Tod said, twisting the tab on his can, as if unbothered by the new development.
“And you call that a little complication?”
Tod shrugged and glanced at Nash as if he wanted a second opinion. “I know we’re short on time, and I’d suggest steering clear of murder just to keep things simple, but I’m sure Addy knows someone looking for a quick career boost—”
“No!” she and I shouted in unison, shooting twin looks of horror at the reaper. “I can’t take the out-clause, Tod,” Addison continued. “Even if I were willing to throw my family to the wolves, I can’t put someone else in my position.”
“Would you rather die without your soul?” He looked irritated with her for the first time that I’d seen. Was he really ready to damn someone else to the Netherworld to save Addison?
Yes. I could see that in his eyes, in how they lit up every time she spoke. In the way his gaze never left her for long. He’d literally do anything for her, and that knowledge scared me almost as badly as the thought of traveling to the Netherworld.
“No,” she answered finally, spinning her can slowly on the coffee table. “That’s why I need your help. I need to get my soul back without using the out-clause.”
“Damn it!” Nash slammed his empty can down on the coffee table, his irises flashing with a confusion of angry colors.
“She’s right,” I said softly. Then I pinned Tod with my gaze. “I won’t help you lead another lamb to the slaughter. If we do this, we do it without the exchange.”
Tod scowled, and again his willingness to take the easy route chilled me. But then he glanced at the raw desperation on Addison’s face and nodded.
“Nash?” I took his hand and folded my fingers around his. “I understand if you want to back out.”
He exhaled heavily. “Like I can let you do this alone. I’m in.”
My relief was a bitter mercy. I didn’t want to do this any more than he did. But I wanted to do it without him even less.
“So … how do we start?” Addison glanced from me to Nash, then to Tod. “What can I do?”
I took a deep breath, then gulped from my can. “First, we need to know who this hellion is. It is a he, right?” I asked, as it occurred to me that I’d been thinking of the hellion as male.
“Yes, it’s a … um … guy demon.” She flushed and shook her head. “But I don’t know his name. I didn’t even know for sure that they had names.”
“But you did actually meet him, right?” Frustration flavored my words, and we could all hear it.
“She did.” Tod answered for her, clenching his hands into tense fists in his lap. “The transfer process is. hands-on.”
Wow. So many things that could mean …
“Good. Tell us everything you remember.” I rubbed my damp palms on my jeans, half dreading whatever we were about to hear. But if I was half dreading it, Addison was all the way there. She glanced at Tod, reluctance obvious in the lips she’d pressed together and the panic swimming in her eyes.
“It’s okay.” He leaned forward to rub her bare arm. “We need to know what you know.” But Addison’s hands began to shake, in spite of his reassurance.
I elbowed Nash and glanced at Addy. He rolled his eyes, then nodded curtly. “Just tell us what you remember.” In spite of his reluctance to coddle her, his voice radiated safety and comfort, flowing over us all like a warm, familiar blanket. “Close your eyes, if you need to. Pretend we’re not here.” After a moment, Addy nodded and leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed. “Start from when you signed the contract,” Nash soothed. “Where were you?”
“In John Dekker’s office. He had the curtains closed and the air cranked. I was freezing.”
“Okay, good.” Nash said, and I glanced at my watch.