Sixth Grave on the Edge by Darynda Jones

your father, and she holds the key.” He gestured to me with a nod of his head. “If she doesn’t live through this, Earth will become a very dark place.”
    “Live through what?” I asked, but the Dealer didn’t look at me that time.
    He kept a watchful eye on the predator. The more immediate danger. “The Twelve have escaped,” he said to Reyes, and though I had no idea who or what the Twelve were, Reyes seemed to have no trouble figuring it out.
    His expression changed to one of astonishment. It wasn’t easy to astonish him.
    “If they get to her,” he started, but Reyes recovered and interrupted before he could finish, much to my chagrin.
    “They won’t.”
    “They will if you don’t keep a very close eye on her. She gets into enough trouble without the Twelve making an appearance. They will rip her apart and make you watch while they do it.”
    Reyes bit down so hard, I could hear his teeth grind. “They’ll try.”
    “You need my help, and you know it.”
    “This is like the prophecies Garrett found,” I told Reyes, patting his arm, trying to convince him to listen. “You and I are the key, remember?” I looked back at the Dealer, who didn’t dare meet my eyes.
    But before I could question him any further, Reyes asked, “And why would you help us?”
    “Why else? I want him dead as much as you do.” He leaned in, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “Even more so, I’d wager, and if you want to win this thing, you’ll listen to what I have to say. There’s only one way to bring him down. We can’t risk the reaper because of your pride.”
    I started thinking back to when I’d first arrived at the game tonight. The Dealer didn’t seem the least bit surprised when I walked in. Surely he knew who I was the moment I showed up, like he was expecting me.
    “Why am I here?” I asked him. “Did you arrange this?”
    He lifted one shoulder. “I simply encouraged Mr. Joyce to seek you out through a few connections I have. He was desperate enough to do it.”
    I released Zeus, pulling out the knife and holding it toward him as steady as I could. Which wasn’t very steady. I was shaking. And I had to pee.
    “You’re still on my turf, stealing the souls of good people. And you stole that body you’re living in.”
    “I didn’t steal anything. I was born on Earth, just like the prince.”
    I gaped at Reyes. “He can do that?”
    After a long hesitation, he nodded. “It’s a complicated process, but yes.”
    “Wow, okay, but you’ve still stolen souls.”
    He shrugged helplessly. “Man cannot live on bread alone. And I steal nothing. Whatever I take has been handed over to me willingly. I pay a very high price for the souls I take.”
    “Not high enough.”
    “You forget, they come to me and they are getting what they want in return. It’s a win–win.” When I only glared, he added, “I am not your enemy. We have a similar agenda.”
    “I want Mr. Joyce’s soul returned to him.”
    He threw his head back and laughed, and I sensed a genuine enjoyment in his reaction, as though I were entertaining to him like a fly might be to a spider. So that was annoying.
    “And then,” I continued, letting my mouth lift into a patient smile, “I’m going to take this dagger, push it into your heart, and watch you die.”
    “Well, then, that’s not a very good incentive for me to do what you want, now, is it?”
    “You need to be brought down. I’m sorry, but it has to be done.”
    “I believe you,” he said, surprised. “I think you are sorry, even if just barely. What if I only bargained for the souls of bad people? You know, murderers and child molesters and people who cut in line at the theater snack counter.”
    There was a thought I could live with. Well, not the snack-counter thing, but … “You could be like the demonic version of Dexter.”
    “Exactly,” he agreed.
    “But how many have you taken in the past? How many good souls do you have to compensate for?”
    He raised