Statistics show that most mortals sell their souls for five reasons: sex, money, power, revenge, and love. In that order. I suppose I should have been reassured, then, that I was out here assisting with numero uno, but the whole situation just made me feel... well, sleazy. And coming from me, that was something. Maybe I just can't empathize anymore, I mused. It's been too long. When I was a virgin, people still believed swans could impregnate girls. Nearby, Hugh waited patiently for me to overcome my reticence. He stuffed his hands into well-pressed khakis, leaning his large frame against his Lexus. "I don't see what the big deal is. You do this all the time." That wasn't exactly true, but we both knew what he meant. Ignoring him, I instead made a great show of studying my surroundings, not that that improved my mood. The suburbs always dragged me down. Identical houses. Perfect lawns. Far too many SUVs. Somewhere in the night, a dog refused to stop yapping. "I don't do this, " I said finally. "Even I have standards." Hugh snorted, expressing his opinion of my standards. "Okay, if it makes you feel better, don't think of this in terms of damnation. Think of it as a charity case." "A charity case?" "Sure."