“Enough!” I snapped, shooting to my feet. “So, it’s a food … or a food ingredient, perhaps? And she doesn’t get unwell from eating it, just a bit …” I rubbed my stomach. “That would be very humiliating for her. But … we would need to be sure that it wouldn’t actually do her serious harm.”

The Hounds exchanged that look again.

I scowled. “It’s not because I … care … because I don’t! But we cannot jeopardise her health, not when she’s under contract with us. If she dies mid-task, I do not know how that would work. I believe that, as long as she was still engaged in the task, her death would release her from the contract.” I eyed them sternly. “Which would mean no new soul for Hell.”

“Oh … well, when you put it that way, Boss.”

“I do put it that way. So … if we can be sure that utilising this will not have a more serious effect than a bout of discomfort and flatulence … then this could actually work.”

The boulder covering the entrance to my chamber rumbled, and I turned, finding Hellen standing there, looking agitated.

“Is it done?” she demanded, hands on hips, tail lashing.

“Bad morning to you, too,” I muttered under my breath, unfolding myself from my thinking chair. “What, pray tell, is this ‘it’ that is supposed to have been done?”

And there was the cat’s arse face again as she surged into my chambers. “The Soul Token! Did you complete your silly little experiments? Did it work? Can we test the Token?”

I backed away from her, my fingers twitching, itching to reach into my pocket and reassure myself that it was still there, still safe.

But I kept my hands by my sides. I didn’t need Hellen getting any ideas about the Soul Token. She already had a manic expression on her face, which sent icy shudders down my spine.

“What in the home made you think I was finished?” I demanded. “I told you yesterday that I’d only completed one task with her! You clearly don’t understand the delicacy of clinical trials!”

“Spare me your pseudo-scientific batshit, Junior!” Hellen pushed past me and slapped her backside down at my dining table. “You reaped a soul. Was it the one you’re working with on this new ‘scheme’ of yours?”

I flinched. “I … yes, a soul was reaped. But it wasn’t … how did you know?”

Hellen rolled her eyes. “The ‘days since last reaping’ counter in the throne room reset to zero last night. The imps have been chittering non-stop about it.”

She eyed me with a new, calculating expression that made me want to back away from her. “Father will be very impressed. He’s only been wanting you to start reaping for the last ten years. How was it?” Her expression turned sickeningly eager. “What did it feel like?”