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Grabbing a bar of Hershey’s chocolate and a graham cracker, I pull my marshmallow off its stick.

Get into my belly.

“They do, don’t they?” The Bargainer’s eyes brighten enough to let me know that he likes my brand of wicked. Turning back to the fairy, he taps on his lips. “No need to be bashful. I’m sure yourprickwill be everything I’ve ever dreamed a prick could be.”

Now the fairy’s bucking, wildly trying to pull his pants up with his legs. He’s failing abysmally at it. “You sick shite!” he shouts.

I begin to munch on my S’more and oh my God, it’s one of the great tragedies of the world that S’mores are only reserved for camping. These little bastards are delicious.

Des’s good humor collapses in an instant. His magic quits tugging at the fairy’s pants. Now that there’s no more magical resistance, the prisoner nearly gives himself a wedgie yanking his pants up.

The night darkens. “I’m done being coy as well,” Des says, his voice like polished steel. “Tell me what happened to the body resting in the cavern beneath that boulder,” he points to the unassuming grave markers in the distance, “or I’ll start killing you in increments.”

“I don’tknow!” the fairy yowls.

“Have you ever died in increments?” Des asks. “It’s slow and—well, I don’t need to tell you that it’s painful.”

“I never saw anything! I swear it—”

I feel the brush of magic, and then the prisoner’s hand is jerked in front of him, his fingers splayed out.

“I like to start with the pinkie—begin small, you know,” Des says. Right now, he’s one hundred percent Bargainer. “I’ll remove it, knuckle by knuckle …”

“Godsdamnit! I don’t know where the body is!”

The fairy’s ruined scythe now unfolds, mending itself back together until it looks whole and untouched. It floats through the air, stopping dangerously close to the fairy’s hand.

The fairy lets out a little whimper as the blade caresses his little finger.

“After the pinkie …” Des continues, “well, there are nine other fingers to play with.

“If that doesn’t break you, there’s teeth and toes. Even those are just a taster. And the pain—it’s enough to drive a fairy to do almost anything. You’ll feel the centuries of your life draining away with each amputation, and—if you hold out long enough—you’ll beg me for death.

“Just when you think it’s bound to be over, you’ll realize you’re still alive and aware, and you’ll endure it for hours—days if need be—but it will feel like decades by the end.”

A sheen of sweat’s developed on the fairy’s upper lip. “You’ll never get away with this,” he swears, his voice high. “The king’s men will come for you both before then,” his eyes dart between us.

“The king,” Des says, looking like a teacher whose pupil finally answered a question correctly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Des sits down, propping his elbows on his legs. “Would the king know where the body went?”

“The king knows all.”

“Does he now?” The Bargainer raises his eyebrows.

The fairy should be worried. Des only uses that voice right before he kicks the hornet’s nest.

The scythe lifts from the fairy’s finger and circles the man.

Des stands. “Let me amend my terms: find me someone who can tell me who did this, and I’ll let you live.”

Chapter 11

I stare atthe crevice in the ground. “This is where your king lives?” I say skeptically.

Just another hole in the earth.

“You’ll see …” Des’s prisoner says ominously.

Since directing us here, a flight that covered miles of arid, lifeless territory, this fairy has gained a lot more confidence.