“The Dagger of al-Shaytān!”
Jemisha jumped up and pointed. We had been enjoying a quiet evening and a glass of merlot. Maybe two glasses. The bottle was nearly empty. Now she stood behind her wingback, with her chair wedged between the two of us, her glass cracked and empty on the carpet. I’d never get that stain out.
“This old thing?” I sat behind my desk, the heat of the fireplace warming my back, with the knife resting across my palms. “I bought this for three dollars in the bargain bin at the flea market.”
Jemisha gripped the back of the chair, squeezing the leather with both hands. “The evilest of items always travel the simplest of roads,” she said, her eyes locked on the knife.
I turned the blade over in my hands, examining it. “The woman who sold it to me said it was a Halloween prop. Her kid didn’t want it anymore.” I grabbed an envelope off the pile on my desk.
Jemisha took a hesitant step sideways, not quite out from behind the chair. “The Dagger of al-Shaytān was forged from the fires of Wormwood. The hilt cut and dressed from brimstone. Lucifer himself used The Dagger to cut the first apple off the Garden tree.”
“I don’t know anything about all that,” I said, and slid the blade along the edge of the envelope, slicing the paper open neatly. “Makes a good letter opener though.”