The Demon's Deadline (Demon's Assistant Book 1) by Tori Centanni

hospital to see that prep school student who was in the car accident yesterday.”
    “I do not recommend you do that.”
    “Why not? Would your little contract factory explode if two of its employees became friends?”
    Azmos sighs. “Funny you should mention that. Can we go somewhere?”
    This is new. I want to go with a sarcastic, “Are you hitting on me?” but the look on his face is too severe for sarcasm. His jaw is set in a way that reminds me of Cam when he’s angry. “There’s a good coffee shop a few blocks from here.”
    My throat feels dry and my heart races. I get the distinct impression I’m in some sort of trouble. We walk to the coffee shop in silence. He holds the door open and gestures for me to go first. I order a cola in a can. Azmos orders a shot of espresso. We take our drinks to a corner table. Azmos unwinds the scarf around his neck. I keep my coat on.
    The place is pretty much empty, except for a guy in the corner who is reading the paper, and the barista, who turns back to his cellphone the moment he’s done ringing us up.
    “So, what’s up, boss?”
    He winces. It’s so unlike him, so human, that it makes every cell in my body scream with discomfort. My arms erupt in gooseflesh. He withdraws an envelope, but it’s black. And it has my name on it in silver pen.
    I feel bile rise in my mouth, and I swallow it down with another swig of cola. “What is that?” I choke out. My voice is too high. The possibilities race around my mind and none of them are good.
    “Calm down, Nicolette,” he says. I do, a little, because his voice is too damn soothing to ignore. “This is a termination notice.”
    “I don’t understand.” The word, “termination,” has never sounded so sinister, but then, it’s never been applied to me.
    He slides the envelope across the table. I let it sit there, a black hole in space-time. “In layman’s terms, you’re fired.”
    “Did I do something wrong?”
    “No.” He reaches forward, like he might take my hand, and then he drops it down near his tiny espresso cup. “It’s nothing you did.”
    I stare at the black paper like I can set it ablaze with my mind. Then I look him straight in the face and hope I’ve managed to meet his eyes. “Does this mean I’m going to die?”
    “No. It means our contract has run its course. You’re free to go. You held up your end of the contract.”
    “Oh.” It’s all I can manage. The ground has shifted beneath me, but the world is still spinning on its axis like nothing happened.
    “I admit, I thought you’d be a bit happier.”
    I’m too stunned to be anything but disoriented. “Is it because of that guy? Xanan?”
    “Not really.” Azmos sips his espresso. “If you must know, in the past month, we’ve had a few… incidents.” He says “incidents” like a movie villain. The ways in which my life resembles a bad movie are many.
    “What kind of incidents?”
    “Mortals attempting to get out of their contracts through means that should be left well enough alone.” Azmos taps the black envelope. “You needn’t worry about it. Take care of yourself.”
    He reties his scarf and leaves me sitting there alone. He walks toward downtown like a normal businessman. Staring down at the envelope, I continue to drink my cola until there’s nothing left in the can. Only then do I turn it over. My name is scrawled across it in the familiar calligraphy, only it’s written in silver pen. I tear it open like you tear off a Band-Aid and shake out the card. It’s also black and written in silver. It says the date and then, “Contract Terminated. Services no longer needed.”
    Azmos is right; I should be happy. I’m alive by supernatural means and my demonic debt is paid. Instead, I feel like I’ve been set adrift, alone in a raft in the middle of the ocean.
     

     
    Cam sits on the cement wall that lines the walkway in front of my apartment building. His backpack sits at his feet and he has a book in one hand,