Chapter 13 #2
The door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded somehow final.
“Your bond is recognized,” Malphas said without preamble, settling into a chair that probably cost more than Ava’s annual salary.
“The partners observed sufficient evidence of genuine connection. Grimm was satisfied. Azrael detected no coercion. Even Beleth found the resonance…” He paused, searching for words.
“Pleasing. Which for Beleth is essentially a standing ovation.”
The tightness in Ava’s shoulders loosened by half a degree.
“However,” Malphas continued, and her chest tightened again, “it creates certain complications from an administrative perspective.”
“Complications,” Victor repeated carefully.
“You’re soul-bonded to a first-year associate, Victor.
Regardless of how the bond occurred, it raises questions about objectivity, supervision, and professional boundaries.
” Malphas pulled two thick packets from a drawer and slid them across the desk.
“You’ll need to file updated disclosure forms. HR has additional documentation.
Emergency contacts, conflict of interest declarations, the standard soul-bond addendum to your employment contracts. ”
“There’s a standard soul-bond addendum?” Ava asked.
“We’re a thorough firm.” Was that amusement in his voice? Hard to tell with no lips. “And Ms. Feng, you’re no longer eligible to work on any case Victor supervises directly. Conflict of interest. You’ll be reassigned to other partners’ portfolios.”
“That’s it?” The words escaped before she could stop them. “Paperwork and reassignment?”
Malphas’s empty eye sockets fixed on her with unsettling precision. “What were you expecting, Ms. Feng?”
“Termination. Being thrown into an actual hell dimension. Something worse than… HR forms.”
“This is a law firm. We solve problems with paperwork, even supernatural problems.” He steepled his too-long fingers, joints clicking softly.
“The situation is unusual, I’ll grant you.
It raises questions we’ll need to address over time.
But it’s not grounds for dismissal. Soul bonds, while rare, are recognized under diabolical law.
You have rights. The firm has obligations.
” A pause that stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable. “We’ve had stranger arrangements.”
“Stranger than soul-bonding with your boss?” Victor’s voice was carefully neutral.
“Beleth once courted a client’s ghost for six months. The jurisdictional issues alone took a year to untangle.” Malphas gestured to the door, the movement too fluid for human joints. “Fill out the forms. Return them by end of day. And Ms. Feng…”
She paused at the door, Victor’s hand warm on her back.
“Congratulations.” The word sounded strange in Malphas’s papery voice. “In four centuries, I’ve never seen Victor look at anyone the way he looks at you. It’s rather nauseating, actually. But also…” He seemed to search for the word. “Reassuring. That such things remain possible.”
The door closed behind them.
“Did Malphas just compliment us?” Ava whispered in the hallway, still processing.
“I believe so.” Victor sounded equally baffled. “And made a joke. I didn’t know he could do that.”
“Maybe Hell is freezing over.”
“Too late. We just got back from the Hamptons.”
Conference Room Three had become Derek’s war room.
He’d claimed the head of the table and surrounded himself with coffee cups, energy drinks, and the remains of what looked like three different pastries.
His tablet displayed multiple windows of what appeared to be a gossip tracking spreadsheet.
His tie had been loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his expression suggested he’d been stress-researching for the entire weekend.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded the moment they entered. “And I mean everything. Start from when you left the ballroom. No, start from before that. The dodgeball. Was Lilith really hit in the face by her own ball? Because there are conflicting accounts and I need to know the truth.”
Ava sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. “Yes. She threw at me after the game was called, I ducked, the ball bounced off the wall and hit her in the face. It was…” She allowed herself a small smile. “Magnificent.”
“I knew it. Marcus from accounting said it was staged but I knew it.” Derek typed something furiously on his tablet. “Okay, continue. After the dodgeball victory. What happened that night?”
Victor closed the door and engaged the privacy wards. The air shimmered briefly, that subtle wrongness that meant they couldn’t be overheard. “The short version: the partners recognized the bond as valid. Lilith objected. She was overruled. She left. We’re legal.”
“And the long version?”
“Is complicated and personal.”
“That’s not fair. I spent the entire weekend monitoring firm communications and fielding questions from people who wanted to know if you’d been devoured by hell-beasts.”
“We appreciate your concern,” Ava said. “But some things are just… ours.”
Derek deflated slightly. Then rallied. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But at least tell me this: the bond. It’s permanent?”
“Yes.”
“Like, permanent permanent? No take-backs, no annulment, no supernatural divorce court?”
“Soul bonds don’t work that way,” Victor said. “What we have is… absolute. Unchangeable. For as long as we both exist.”
Derek stared at them for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, his face softened into something almost gentle.
“You know what? Good.” He picked up a half-eaten pastry. “You deserve something good, both of you. Even if it is terrifying and permanent and probably going to cause me endless paperwork.”
Something in Ava’s throat threatened to close up. “Thanks, Derek.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank whoever makes these croissants.” He shoved the pastry into his mouth. “Now, what are we doing about Lilith? Because she’s going to come back angrier than before, and I want a plan.”
“She called in sick,” Victor said.
Derek choked on his croissant. “She what?”
“First time in three centuries, according to Cassandra.”
“Lilith doesn’t get sick. Lilith doesn’t take breaks. Lilith once argued a case for eighteen hours straight while running a fever of 107 because she refused to let anyone else close the deal.” Derek’s eyes had gone wide. “This is bad. This is very bad. A sulking Lilith is a dangerous Lilith.”
“Or it means she’s licking her wounds,” Ava offered.
“Lilith doesn’t lick wounds. Lilith plots revenge while pretending to lick wounds.” Derek pulled up something on his tablet. “I’m going to start tracking her known associates. Figure out who she might be talking to. See if there’s any movement on Peterson Holdings.”
“Peterson Holdings.” Ava had almost forgotten, in everything else, that Lilith still held that leverage over her parents. “Is there anything new?”
“Nothing since Friday. But I’m watching.” Derek met her eyes, serious despite the pastry crumbs on his shirt. “Whatever she’s planning, we’ll see it coming.”
The morning continued in surreal normalcy.
Ava filled out disclosure forms, checking boxes about relationship status, conflict of interest, emergency contacts.
There was something darkly funny about bureaucratizing a supernatural soul bond.
Nature of relationship: eternal magical connection.
Duration: permanent. Please list any potential conflicts…
Victor attended partner meetings. His concentration hummed at the edge of her awareness—careful navigation of demon politics, an occasional spike of frustration (Grimm being Grimm, probably) quickly smoothed over.
Junior associates found excuses to walk past her desk with uncomfortable frequency.
Someone needed a file from the cabinet behind her chair.
Someone else had a question for Derek that required walking the longest possible route through the bullpen.
A woman from M&A asked to borrow a stapler despite having three on her own desk.
They weren’t subtle about staring.
“Your neck,” the stapler woman said, eyes fixed on the silver marks curling above Ava’s collar. “Is that… does it hurt?”
“No.”
“It looks like it should hurt.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Can I—” She reached out like she was going to touch, and Ava leaned back sharply.
“I have work to do.”
The woman retreated, but Ava felt her watching for the next hour.
Derek brought lunch: dumplings from her parents’ restaurant, delivered by Emma with a card that just said We’re rooting for you in her mother’s handwriting. The familiar taste of home helped settle something in her chest that had been wound too tight since Friday.
The afternoon brought more attempts at normalcy.
Ava worked on a merger agreement, losing herself in the comfortable complexity of contract law.
Victor reviewed documents in his office, his concentration humming quietly at the edge of her awareness.
They passed in the hallway once, exchanging looks that made Derek audibly groan about “watching other people’s happiness being physically painful. ”
Late afternoon, the sun slanting golden through the windows, Ava noticed Lilith’s office door remained firmly closed. No light visible through the frosted glass. No sounds from within.
“Still out,” Cassandra confirmed when Ava found herself lingering near reception. “Her assistant says she’s ‘indisposed.’ Whatever that means for a demon who doesn’t need to eat or sleep.”
“Should we be worried?”
Cassandra’s amber eyes held hers for a moment. “With Lilith? Always.”
By evening, the office had mostly emptied.
The cleaning crew had started their rounds. Ava had noticed they were never quite human, their movements too synchronized, their conversations in languages that slid away from comprehension. She’d stopped looking too closely at the service staff.
She saved her work, gathered her things, and found Victor waiting by the elevator. He’d loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and somehow still managed to look like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread.
“Survived day one,” he said.
“Barely.” She leaned into him as his arm came around her shoulders. “The stapler woman tried to touch my mark. Derek is building a Lilith conspiracy board. And I still don’t know whose cases I’m being reassigned to.”
“Tomorrow will be easier.”
“Liar.”
“I’ve been lying successfully for six thousand years.”
“Not to me you haven’t.” She poked his chest where his mark lay hidden under expensive cotton. “I can feel when you’re bullshitting me now. It has a specific… flavor.”
He laughed, genuine, surprised, warm. “I’m going to have to get used to that.”
“You’re going to have to get used to a lot of things.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The elevator arrived with a soft chime. They stepped inside, and Ava watched the numbers begin their descent. Victor’s arm stayed around her, solid and warm. His contentment washed over her—tentative, almost surprised at itself, like he was still learning how to feel this way.
“Your place or mine?” she asked.
“I thought mine was yours now.”
“Legally, maybe. But I still need to grab clothes from the apartment. And probably face Mia’s interrogation. She’s sent approximately forty messages since Saturday, each more threatening than the last.”
“Shall I come with you? For moral support?”
“You’d face Mia’s wrath for me?”
“I’d face considerably worse for you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Besides, I liked her.”
The elevator slowed. Stopped at the lobby level.
“Tomorrow,” Ava said. “We’ll handle it together.”
“That’s the plan.”
The doors slid open, revealing the marble lobby, the evening security guard, the city lights beginning to flicker on beyond the glass walls.
“Ready?” Victor asked.
Ava took his hand.
The lobby doors opened onto a city that didn’t know their names.