All daemonic compacts are to henceforth be under the sole, unadulterated, jurisdiction of the Golgotha company, in order to limit moral threat, to ensure that humans have greater control over compacts, and to ensure that humans prosper only through hard work and perseverance, as the lord God most high surely intended.

-The Wycliffe Accord, 1542 AD

The daemon is a column of ashen smoke, coiling and boiling in its runic circle. Eyes stare out like twin coals, smoldering with alien intellect.

"Again you call me," it hisses. "Were you displeased with your new girlfriend? Bought and paid for as a slave?"

"You know very well that I wasn't displeased," Anna grumbles. Her stomach lurches unpleasantly at the idea of buying Elsa. "What did you mean by asking for my innocence?"

"That is for me to know and for you to not," the daemon says. "Unless you wish to trade for that knowledge?"

"No," Anna snaps.

"Very well," the thing allows, drawing itself up like a great arcane pillar. "Why have you called me?"

"I want to make a deal," Anna says. Her voice shakes like the leaves of a willow in a strong breeze. "Another one, I mean. The, um, terms of which are not to be altered once we both have agreed."

"Very well," the daemon gives the impression of nodding, though it doesn't seem to have a head, and those horrible glowing eyes don't move. "What is it you wish to buy?"

"I want to be a famous singer," Anna says. She thinks for a moment. "Famous in a good way. Like an 'everyone loves me' sort of way, not a 'look how silly Anna is' sort of way. And, um, wealthy. If it's not too much trouble- I mean… I'm not asking, I'm telling. Those are my terms."

"That is possible," the daemon replies. "You understand, it is rare for us to give such things, yes? That the price will be high?"

"Not my soul," Anna says quickly.

"No." The daemon laughs. It is a terrible, familiar, sort of sound that chills Anna to her core. "No, not your soul," agrees the daemon. "What use do I have for such a silly little thing? No, I ask for you, on your twenty seventh birthday."

"For… me?" Anna swallows. "Like, sexually?"

"No," the daemon snorts. "Not sexually. That is the usual price of fame; fortune and renown until you turn twenty seven, and then you belong to me."

"No," Anna says. "God no." The daemon seems to grimace. "What else would you accept? I'm not giving you me."

"Very well then, not you," the daemon agrees. "But what of Elsa? I would accept your vow never to force her to go anywhere she does not wish to."

Anna stammers, tries to speak several times. "Why would I ever try to make her go somewhere she doesn't want to go?" Anna asks.

"Then the deal costs you nothing," the daemon purrs. "Do you accept?"

"What the hell," Anna says. "Sure. I accept."

The smoke dissipates, as if caught on a gentle breeze. The electric lights flicker back on. Anna shakes herself, throws incense through the daemon's circle to make sure it's gone, and pulls a rug over the bright white paint of the summoning rings.

The phone rings, too chipper this early in the morning. Anna squints blearily at the display- not so late, it seems. She groans, and wraps the blanket tighter about her thin shoulders. The phone rings again. Anna slaps it a few times before she hits the button she wants.

"What?" She snaps. "'Punzie, I swear, I will poop on your porch."

"Nah," he cousin's voice comes distorted through the phone's tiny speaker. "You know you love me. So listen, I'm not just calling for fecal threats, as much as I love them. You've called her, right?"

"Who?" Anna blinks a few times.

"The girl," Rapunzel moans theatrically. "Elsa! You've called her, right?"

"I…" Anna rubs her eyes. "I'm sure she doesn't want to hear from me so soon. We hung out last night. Shouldn't I give her a few days?"

"It's a good thing you're pretty," Rapunzel says, "because she sure isn't sticking around for your brains. She fucking found your performance, and dragged you away the moment it ended. I'm honestly surprised she didn't sex you. Goddamn Anna. Call her! She gave you her number."

"I'll do it tomorrow," Anna decides aloud. Rapunzel snorts. It is not a pleased sound.

"You'll do it right now," the phone yells, "or else I'm grabbing Eugene or Flynn or whatever he's calling himself now, and we're bringing all the pots and pans."

"And doing what with them?" Anna sits up, frowns uncertainly, eyes the uncorked bottle from the night before.

"Not sure yet," Rapunzel says. "Banging them together, probably. Maybe with your head between them. They make pretty good weapons, you know. This one time, I fought off this home invader…"

"You've told me before," Anna cuts her off. "Fine. I'll call her. Gotta hang up first."

"Kay," Rapunzel replies. "You know I'll be calling you later. Make sure you didn't chicken out."

"Fine," Anna grumbles. "Hate you."

"Love you too," comes the too-chipper reply, and the line goes dead.

"Goddamit," Anna sighs, and dials.

"Belial manor, to whom am I speaking?" Comes the answer. The voice is deep and smooth, melodious. Like warm caramel, turning on its tines at a state fair, but with a sort of elegance not found there.

"Um?" Anna chokes out. "I'm calling for Elsa? Does she live there?"

"There is an Elsa here," the voice sounds again. It's beautiful, but something about it gives Anna the chills. "Whom shall I tell her is calling?"

"Anna," the redhead says too fast. "My names Anna. She… hung out… last night? Assuming it's the right Elsa?"

"Of course, milady," the voice oozes from the speaker like molten chocolate. "I shall notify her at once."

Anna doesn't breath until she hears rustling on the other end of the line again. "Anna?" A new voice. High and feminine and perfect. Familiar. "It's Elsa. Sorry about the butler. He can be a bit of a bore."

"You have a butler," Anna observes.

"Well, yes," Elsa replies smoothly, but there's something almost bashful in her voice. Anna shifts the phone to her other ear. "Sorry I didn't warn you."

"It's all right," Anna says numbly. "You have a butler."

"Yes, you've said that before," Elsa remarks, her voice brisk. "Are you alright? What did you call about?"

"Oh my god," Anna gasps. "I didn't interrupt you, did I? I bet you were in the middle of some important rich-people thing, and I totally put my foot in it, like I always do. I am so sorry. I can call back later? Or, you've got my number now. You call when it's a good time. I'm not doing anything today. God, that makes it sound like I have no life. I am doing things. But you can call me, because your things are probably more important. And my things can be interrupted whenever. I definitely have a life. Please love me?"

"You're adorable," Elsa snickers. It doesn't quite sound like it's at Anna's expense, but it is wholly lacking in warmth. "You aren't interrupting anything important."

"Ok, good," Anna replies. "Because you can totally blow me off for whatever. I'm good. I can still call you back if you want?"

"What are you doing tomorrow - sorry, Thursday evening?" Elsa asks.

"I've got nothing Thursday," Anna says. "I'm not busy tomorrow either? Or Wednesday? Why?"

"Thursday evening," Elsa replies. "Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up, in front of your apartment. Wear something nice."

"Oooook," Anna says. "Can do. I've got nice clothes. I've got tons of nice cloths. What're we doing?"

"Dinner," Elsa's voice is smooth and predatory. Anna shivers pleasantly.

"I can do that," Anna stammers. "I eat dinner."

"Of course you do," Elsa says, and Anna can almost hear the smile through the phone. "I hate to do this to you, but you weren't far off. I do have some things I must attend to. Would it be terribly rude of me to hang up?"

"Of course not," Anna says. "I don't want to be a…" She trails off when she realizes that the line has gone quiet. She drops her phone. "Oh my god I'm such an idiot," Anna whines, smacks herself. "Goddamn. 'I eat dinner.' Fuck me. Shit." She throws back the blanket, looks down at her faded boxers, and ripped up tank top. The blood drains from her face like water from a bucket with no bottom, and she dives after her phone. Contacts- 'Punz…

"Rapunzellll," she whines. "You heartless bitch."

"You called her!" Rapunzel cheers. "How'd it go?"

"She has a butler," Anna replies.

"Oh!" Rapunzel says. Then again, longer, "oooh."

"Yep," Anna groans. "And she invited me out to dinner."

"Good for you!" Rapunzel cheers again. "Ouch. Damnit Eugene, not while I'm on the phone. Eep. So, what's the prob' cuz'?"

"She said to wear something nice," Anna slams her head into the driftwood of the headboard theatrically. Winces.

"So wear that nice sweater," Rapunzel snickers.

"Don't you dare," Anna growls. "No laughing. I'm in a crisis."

"Of course I'll go shopping with you," Rapunzel laughs. "I missed my opportunity to pick your prom dress. I'm not missing this. Eugene, keep your hands to yourself while I'm on the phone or I'll let Anna shit on your porch."

"That's because I didn't go to prom," Anna mumbles.

"Precisely," Rapunzel retorts. "I'm not missing this. How long do you have until your date?"

"She seemed nice," the butler says, shoes beetle black on the polished white marble of the floor.

"Mind your own damn business," Elsa snaps icily.

"Of course," the butler bows. "The imps wish to see you about housing."

"That's not my problem," Elsa says. She flops down on the soft velvet of the couch, puts her bare feet on the armrest.

"Of course," the butler says again. "Shall I summon Mozart?"

"No," Elsa sighs. She snaps her fingers impatiently, and the butler leans over with his polished silver tray. Elsa selects one of the fluted goblets, seemingly at random, and waves him off. "Not Mozart," she says. "Someone newer. Is Hendrix still alive?"

"No, milady," the butler says. "He turned twenty-seven?"

"Good," Elsa sips from the goblet. "Get him."

"At once," the butler says. "And milady, your master will be here shortly."

Elsa sits up straight.

AN: thank you all for the support. smiley face stickers for you all! follows and favorites are wonderful, reviews too. just saying.

P.S. if you read this in church, i will be strangely happy.