Hours later the door opened and Catcalls half carried Mess into the room. She was barely recognizable, her face battered and bloody, her lip and cheek split open. One eye was swollen shut, and from the way she was hunched over, I was guessing a few of her ribs had been broken. We all jumped to our feet. I and ran forward, reaching out to take her from the guard.

“See what happens when you try to escape? When you hit me?” He pushed her.

“Your angel didn’t come to save me,” Mess whispered as she fell into my arms.

No. No, he clearly hadn’t. I wished he had. I wished Pockmarks and Catcalls had suffered the same fate as Onions. I wished the same for the boss, for anyone else who’d been involved in taking these girls off the street like they were inanimate objects to be sold. Right now, seeing Mess this way, I even wished the same for the demon woman. If she couldn’t help us, if she wouldn’t help us, then I wanted her to suffer the same fate, to explode on the inside, her eyes nothing but smoking black holes in a corpse on the floor. I couldn’t keep making excuses for her. I couldn’t keep thinking I could win her over to our side. She needed to make a decision and make it now.

And so did I. Emotionally I was back to where I’d been in the bathroom, holding the toilet tank lid. I was going to save these girls no matter what it took. I’d save her too, but she needed to do something, anything to show she was on our side. Otherwise I was going to make sure she suffered the same fate that these guards did.

Pockmarks walked in, the demon woman last through the doorway. I held Mess gently, letting her weight rest on me as I eyed all three of them, waiting for the demon to do something, anything that would put her on the right side of all this.

“You. My turn, and I’m picking you. Come with me,” Pockmarks commanded pointing at Lacy. The girl might not have known any English, but she understood well enough to shrink back, shaking her head and pleading in a foreign language.

“She’s begging you not to hurt her. She doesn’t want to die. She says she will do anything you say, just please don’t hurt her,” Leethu translated.

Pockmarks turned to her in surprise. “You speak Chinese?”

The demon woman’s lip curled. “She’s not Chinese, you idiot, she’s from Laos. And I speak over forty human languages. Laotian is one of them.”

Pockmarks looked impressed. Briefly. Then the scowl returned. “Tell her that if she doesn’t fight me, and doesn’t try to escape, she won’t wind up like this other one.”

Leethu spoke to the girl, who nodded vigorously as she replied. “She’s terrified,” the demon told the guard. “And she weighs all of a hundred pounds soaking wet. Just look at her. You won’t have any trouble. She’ll do exactly as you say.”

“Good. That’s what I want. Nice and compliant.” As if she understood, Lacy walked over toward him, eyes lowered, the perfect picture of submission.

“Fix her so this other one doesn’t die on us.” Pockmarks gestured toward Mess. “I’ve waited long enough. It’s my turn to have some fun.”

The demon woman stopped abruptly, staring for the first time at the battered girl in my arms then turned to Catcalls in anger. “What did you do to her? You are not supposed to beat them like this. They’re merchandise. It’s two days until the sale, and look at her.”

Catcalls shrugged. “You’re a demon. Fix her up. Not my fault if I got a bit carried away. Bitch deserved it.”

“No,” Mess moaned, clinging to me. Her voice was wet and reedy, blood bubbling from her mouth. “No, don’t let her. Hurts too much. Don’t want to hurt more. Just let me be.”

“She’s dying,” Leethu snapped. “Look at her face. Her nose is broken, and so is her orbital socket. Her brain is swelling from head trauma. She’s bleeding internally. I’m guessing a fractured rib punctured a lung. This isn’t just ‘a little carried away.’ Do this crap to your own woman, not one we’re supposed to be selling in two days.”

“So? I had fun. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about doing the same thing to the redhead bitch that hit you in the head.”

The demon shot me a quick look. “Not like that. Not kill her.”

“Liar.” Catcalls laughed. “She’s still breathing. Fix her up and we can still sell her.”

“No, we can’t.” Leethu glared at the guard. “I can’t fix this. I’m a sex demon. I don’t heal, and I don’t resurrect people from the dead. Fixing bruises and a broken bone or two is one thing. This is beyond my ability.”

“She’s not dead yet,” Pockmarks told her. “Fix her the best you can, and we’ll sell her at a discount. Might as well make some money off her.”

“She won’t make it,” Leethu argued. “She’d dying and there’s nothing I can do to prevent that.”

“All she needs to do is make it to the sale. Maybe we’ll give her to Miller as a bonus. Bundle her in with one of the others. Just patch her up so she lives a few more days.”

“I’m not a fucking angel,” the demon muttered under her breath.

“Fix her, or I’ll tell the boss you refused,” Pockmarks said. Then he and Catcalls left.

Leethu shook her head, muttering something else that sounded like “fucking pigs,” then she took a step toward us. Mess shrank against me, repeating “no, no” as if it were a mantra. I turned, blocking the demon with my body.

“Leave her alone,” I told Leethu. “She’s been through enough. Just let her be.”

The demon hesitated. “She’ll die. Tonight or in a few days, she’ll die. They’ve really hurt her. It looks like he used one of those wooden poles on her, and I’m thinking in her as well. She has internal bleeding and a fractured skull.”

“Then you should have stopped him,” I snapped. “You’re a demon. You could have done something to keep him from beating her like this.”

“I can’t,” she snapped back. “I told you I’m forbidden from hurting the guards. And I can’t help any of you escape.”

“You could have protected her,” I argued. “You should have done something. Do you even care? Doesn’t it bother you that one of those men raped her and beat her to death? You could have done something to help her.”

“I couldn’t.” Her voice rose. “I thought he was just having rough sex with her. I thought maybe he hit her a few times. I didn’t know he had done this.” Her eyes met mine. “I’m a sex demon. I’m limited in my skills, and the man who summoned me made sure I can’t use my strength or my enchantment abilities on them.”

“You could have done something else. Locked the guard out of the room, put them both to sleep. Made yourself look like her and taken her place. You should have done something. You should have done something to help her.”

I was shouting at this point. It wasn’t just Leethu I was angry at, it was me. I’d let them take Mess. Yes, I’d begged and pleaded and fought and tried to take her place, but I should have done more. I should have fought harder. I should have done something to keep Mess from them. Anything. And now they’d taken Lacy. Fear surged through me at the thought that she might return with similar injuries, no matter what Pockmarks had said, no matter how much she complied willingly with his requests.

Leethu stared at me as if she was reading my thoughts, then she reached out for Mess. “I can fix her, but I can’t heal her. And with her injuries, what I do will only help her for a few days. I can fix her long enough to get through the auction, but that’s the limit of my abilities.”

Get her through the auction. What kind of blessing would that be? Fix her up only to have her suffer more beatings and rape at the hands of whoever bought her, then die in a few days. It would only prolong her torture. Leethu was a demon, a powerful demon. She needed to do something. She needed to prove to me that she was on my side. She needed to heal my girl.

I eyed her in disbelief. “You healed bruises and broken bones before. This can’t be too different. Heal her. Make her okay again. I don’t want her to die. She can’t die.”

“This is more than a breast increase, bruises, or broken bones. She’s bleeding internally. She has swelling inside her skull. She’s too badly injured for me to help her.” Leethu gestured helplessly. “I want to heal her—to do this for you. But anything I do will be only temporary. She’s beyond my ability.”

“What are you saying?” I demanded. “Are you saying she’s going to die? She can’t die. She can’t.”

Her eyes met mine. “I can fix her, and maybe it will last a few hours, maybe it will last a few days, but soon what I do will give way. The swelling and the bleeding will start again, and she’ll die.”

“Then we need to get her to a hospital,” I argued. “Please.”

The demon shook her head. “They don’t care. They just want her to survive the auction, then whatever happens afterward they can say it was something the client did. There is no way they would ever allow her to go to the hospital. None of you all are leaving here unless it’s with a client that bought you.”

Or in a body bag, I thought.

“I’ll fix her,” Leethu told me. “Then maybe she’ll be okay. Maybe the client will let her see a doctor or take her to the hospital once she leaves here.”

I knew a lie when I heard it, and so did Mess.

“Please,” the girl whispered against me. “I don’t want to hurt anymore. I just want peace. I want to decide what happens to me. For once in my life, I want to decide.”

I suddenly realized that both of them were relying on me. The injured woman in my arms wanted me to support her decision. She didn’t want to go through any more than she already had, but what if she didn’t make it through the night? What if she died? She couldn’t die. I couldn’t lose one of my girls. I couldn’t. Leethu had to fix her, to make her better.

Although from what the demon said, she’d only be delaying the inevitable.

Leethu… She could have shoved me out of the way and fixed Mess against her will. But she waited, looking for me to make the call, looking for me to tell her whether she should honor this woman’s request or not. I knew she was under the compulsion of some sort of summoning, but still she found the strength to defy the guards and defer to my decision.

“Please,” Mess begged. Death isn’t so bad. Sometimes it’s a relief. Sometimes it’s the happy ending of a tragic life. And I’d rather it be now than continue on for days of additional suffering, only to meet the same fate. Let me go, Red. It’s your turn to take care of the girls. It’s your turn to take care of me.

Tears stung my eyes, but who was I to question or judge another’s decision? She’d had a hard, hard life. Maybe it was time to put all that behind her, to find peace at last. I’d be with her every moment. I’d hold her in my arms as long as it took—whether it ended with her last breath, or a painful recovery. I would be there. And no auction, no buyer, no being human or otherwise would have the power to tear me from her side.

“Do not fix her,” I commanded. “Leave her in my care.”

Leethu did something between a nod and a bow, and turned to go, hesitating as she reached the door. “The other girl, Lai, if I can somehow help her…”

I waited for her to finish, puzzled. Was she going to ask me for a favor in return for protecting the girl?

The demon shook her head and gave me a sheepish smile. “Never mind.”

Then she left, locking the door behind her.

I was a bit stunned by her easy acceptance of my decision. She’d pay for it if Mess died or wasn’t perfect for the auction. Pockmarks, and the even more intimidating boss, would blame her. She’d suffer, perhaps far longer than any human could imagine. She was the brave one—she and Mess. Mess had been our protector from day one, shielding the other girls and comforting them. She was the glue that bound us together as a family. She was far more brave than I was. More brave even than any of us.

And Leethu… The demon had the most to lose, and yet she let Mess have this final dignity, she let the woman have her autonomy, her choice, her decision regarding her future.

“Come on,” I told Mess, carefully lifting her into my arms. “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Deena,” she gasped. “That’s my name. That’s my real name.”

I understood. She wasn’t One Hot Mess anymore, she was a scared girl with an uncaring, abusive mother. She was a homeless girl on the streets. She was someone who had been selling her body for almost a decade, just to survive. She was a soul in need of an angel.

It didn’t matter that her blood was staining the sheets, that she was naked as I held her on the cot. Pistol pulled out one of the blankets and draped it over us. I held it inches from Deena’s battered body, cradling her with gentle soothing hands. She slept, her pain receding into a far horizon. Her body relaxed against mine, and as the night stretched on, I whispered all the things she should have heard in her life. She was beautiful. She was clever and smart. She was precious. She was loved. The memories of her life streamed into me, weighing down my soul, becoming my burden as they lightened hers. And when I finally carried all of her pain, all of her sorrow, all the agony of her heart. When her burden had fully become mine, she was free. It was then that Deena Lucille Hayworth flew away from her mortal shell into the arms of the Creator.