“You look gorgeous.” Candlelight danced in his eyes, and his gaze trailed over her short dress. “But I still don’t understand how you got here. I never taught you that spell.”

“I remembered what you said.”

He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “Impressive as that is, I’m a little alarmed that you felt the need to use it. You collected Hugo’s signature, right?”

Ursula brushed ash off her dress. “Things got messy. Hugo made a scene.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You didn’t get his signature? Then why are you here?”

“I had to escape.” How do I explain this? “Hugo ran away and started shrieking that I wanted to stab him.” The truth again, I guess.

Kester moved closer, irises burning. Had she really found his face a welcome sight? He looked—terrifying. “We’re supposed to work in the shadows. If your face becomes known, Emerazel will destroy you. If you fail to get a target’s signature, as you have, Emerazel will destroy you. She hates you, for reasons I don’t understand, and she seemed very eager to reap your soul. I told you the importance of getting this right.”

Oh, God. I can’t escape the lectures about my own failure, even among the hellhounds. “You told me the importance, but that doesn’t make me any more experienced. You and I both agreed it was insane that Emerazel wanted to send me off without training. I don’t know why you’re suddenly surprised that it didn’t turn out well. And you know what? I still don’t understand what she wants with everyone’s souls. What does she do with them?”

“It’s the stakes that mattered. You couldn’t afford to fail.” Ignoring her question, he rooted her in place with his gaze, and stepped closer. “I don’t know why you didn’t just sign the pact like I told you to in the first place. Then neither of us would have to worry about this mess.”

She crossed her arms, taking a step back, until she was backed up against the wall. “I don’t know—why didn’t I sign that pact?” She touched her finger to her lips. “Oh yeah, I guess I was a bit put off by the ‘burning in eternity’ thing. It sounded unpleasant—which, by the way, is why I’m not going to be a great salesman for this deal, because only a psychopath would want someone to burn forever. Hugo gets some cash in exchange for everlasting torture? And I’m supposed to convince him that’s a good deal? It’s insane. I’m not a monster, Kester.”

“Oh, but you are,” he snarled. “And so am I.” He pressed his palms to the wall on either side of her head, boxing her in.

Adrenaline surged. “I never wanted this.”