I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to go out and get a drink, have a few laughs. But as much as I wanted that, I knew I couldn’t have it with her. Cal had flat out told me she came from the Downstairs, for Darkness’ sake. You have to make some extremely poor choices above ground to get sent to the Downstairs right off the bat. And to work her way up to Fifth . . . there was no denying she was dangerous. Any other time, I would’ve been bored enough to welcome some danger. But not now. Not this close to my goal.

“I have to admit,” Cal said, fingering the hem of her jacket, “we work well together.”

I shrugged.

“Come on, Pey. You have to admit that.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” I said as I clicked off my computer and began gathering my things. I hoped she would get the point, but instead, she slid into my cubicle and sat on my desk. I moved around her, straightening files, filling my pencil case.

“Come on, quit being such a pussy!”

She said it loudly enough that I heard a pause in the keyboard clacking of my neighbors. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down below the divider.

“What do you want from me?” I hissed, my face close enough for me to see where her eyelashes clumped together in the corner of one eye, moving as one under my breath. “You’re a nutjob, and I don’t want to be friends with you. So whatever game you’re playing, stop. We worked together today because KQ made us. It wasn’t particularly good or bad, all right? It was a job. Get over it.”

I let go of her wrist, but she kept her hand clasped over mine, holding it there.

“If you keep talking to me like that, I’m going to start to want you.”

I huffed and yanked my arm free.

“Look, I admit it. The Honey Pot stunt was stupid. No one regrets that more than me. Just think of all of the things I could’ve gotten out of you if you still thought I was some lost little mouse? It was a poor decision on my part, and I think I might be the first person to ever do this, but I blame alcohol.”

I laughed but covered it with my hand like a cough.

“Please don’t make me hang out with anyone else in this shitbox tonight. I’m begging you.”

Most of the smells in Hell are very unpleasant. People smell like old coffee and plaque, sweat covered in perfume. But Cal smelled like soap. Just soap. I’m sure it doesn’t sound like much to you with your gorged senses, but to me it was perfect.

I shook my head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, and I walked past her.