Chapter 9 #2
“I’ll file your expense reports for you. A quarter of my paycheck. Wait, we can talk about this!”
She wheeled away, her buzzing wings briefly lifting her off the floor, and slammed the door behind her.
“You call that a negotiation? I thought you could tell what people wanted?” Morgan rounded on him.
“That doesn’t help when you don’t have anything they want!”
“Now what?” She was going to die here. She wished she’d done the yoga. She wished she’d eaten more ice cream. She wished she’d run a finger along his cheek and she wished she hadn’t just thought that where he could hear. She wished she’d done anything at all with her life.
“Stay here,” Lucareoth started to say, and then stopped. “No, wait, it’s too late for that. She isn’t going to tell Bel’aliol; she’s going to tell everyone. You’re safer staying with me now. Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Morgan protested as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door.
“Only choice now is to tell Bel’aliol ourselves,” he said and dragged her down the hallway.
He rushed her through an environment that felt strangely familiar, like one step off the cubicle farms she remembered from movies like Office Space.
The kind of soul-sucking corporate environment that had preceded the current soul-sucking corporate environment, and which she had entered the workforce too recently to have personally experienced.
She supposed that whichever consultants—or furniture salesmen—had convinced the management of America to do away with even the flimsy privacy of felt-covered half-walls in favor of bench desks had not yet made their way to the Infernal Plane.
Heads popped up from the cubicles as they passed, a murmur of excited gossip flowing in their wake. More of the heads tended toward the reptilian or insectile rather than mammalian, but the stupid ties and stiff collars were a constant.
“Why does this look like a human office from the nineties?” she whispered. “Is this some kind of ‘as it is above, so it is below’ kind of thing?”
“No, it’s because humans are astonishingly good at motivating people without making them happy, and we copied you. No one innovates like humans,” he whispered back. “Also, no one has the resources to redecorate to keep up with trends, thank the father-eaters. No offense, but your office is awful.”
“Gee thanks,” she muttered. Hell thought her office was worse, and she couldn’t disagree.
He pulled her into what vaguely resembled a communal kitchen, other than the shared cauldron simmering sullenly in the corner. The viscous liquid looked too much like blood for her to want to ask questions.
A demon with a head like a crocodile slurped from a mug through a straw. Her companion reminded Morgan more of a tarantula, although he only had six limbs and it seemed rude to count the eyes.
“—landed a Member of Parliament, but the rest of the department got liquidated anyway,” the crocodile demon was saying. “Did you get any details?”
“My broodmate said it didn’t make up for the shortfall after last quarter’s big asset took up meditation and stopped seeking worldly things,” the tarantula demon replied, words only slightly mangled through mandibles.
The crocodile demon shrugged. “Well, we can spend less time on the Demogorgon slide, then. But it’s only competitive differentiation if it’s what the temptation personas actually want. Oh, I see you’ve deigned to grace us with your presence, Lucareoth. Bel’aliol is going to—what the Earth is that?”
“Uh. Hi?” Morgan gave a little wave, cringing.
“You did not bring a human back from the Plane of Consumable Souls,” the tarantula demon said flatly.
“And I know that because if you had done something so incredibly idiotic, you would have filled out form 23-B, and I have not processed any forms 23-B. I haven’t even seen a form 23-B since onboarding.
And since I know you know that interplanar incursions without a form 23-B involve sixteen different forms, since I signed your certificate for completing the Interplanar Incursions and You training session myself, there is no way that is a human. ”
The crocodile took a long slurp of the I-hope-it’s-not-blood. “Could be a mass hysteria spell.”
“Mass hysteria spells only require four forms, and so are four times preferable to an interplanar incursion,” the tarantula countered.
“I thought Ytteri was doing mass hysteria forms?” Lucareoth bit his lip.
“She did until Niseraz ate her three weeks ago,” the tarantula said, all the eyes glittering. “Which you would have known if you’d bothered to read my memo. Either of them. The ones titled Everyone read this: Change in forms.”
“So, umm, has anyone seen Bel’aliol today?” Lucareoth shrank in on himself in the face of the tarantula’s righteous anger.
The crocodile shrugged and took another slurp. “Office.”
Lucareoth’s tail twitched anxiously.
Something came bounding down the aisle. It was waist height and had four legs and a whippy tail, but it also had eyes that burned with tiny literal flames and short spikes down its spine.
It seemed half made of smoke; the skin that seemed solid had the unnervingly delicate texture of a Sphinx cat at the joints but fine scales like a pangolin covering its back, forehead, and shins.
It rammed its head into Lucareoth’s knee and grinned happily, dripping some kind of ichor from its teeth that left little burn marks on the floor.
“Hey there, Rix,” Lucareoth bent to scratch behind the office hell-dog’s spines. “It’s nice to see someone missed me.”
“Is that a hellhound?” Morgan asked, staring.
“One of the runtier breeds,” Luke confirmed. “Although Rix here is even runtier than most. Little idiot lacks any kind of killer instinct, although it makes him a pretty good cubicle dog. I guess that’s why he likes me,” he finished mournfully.
He looked like he was going to his own execution along with her. She wished she’d thought of the stupid journal the first night, when it might have saved him, at least. “I liked you.”
He gave her a queasy smile. “I liked you, too.”
For a moment, they considered the might-have-beens.
He knocked on the dark fake-wood door at the end of the corridor. A brass nameplate was boldly engraved with a script that made Morgan’s teeth buzz when she tried to read it.
“Enter.” The voice sounded as if the owner had too many teeth in his mouth. Lucareoth pushed the door open. Rix followed them in.
The owner had too many teeth in his mouth.
Most of them looked very sharp, although the tusks protruding from his lower jaw had jaunty little gold caps on the tips.
The teeth were all black, which was a bit disconcerting, but they nicely matched the bull’s horns that curled down from the sides of his head.
His skin was burnt umber and his whiteless eyes glittered.
His tie had the very subtle sheen that on Morgan’s plane would have meant it was made from something expensive, and had been tied in the kind of elaborate knot that inspired prissy menswear video tutorials and no one ever actually used anymore.
The glittering black eyes narrowed. “Lucareoth. When we last spoke, I recall saying that you needed to pull off something special this quarter if you wanted to avoid unpleasant repercussions.”
“I have a great lead,” Lucareoth started.
Bel’aliol cleared his throat and Lucareoth’s voice cut off.
Morgan was not entirely sure whether that had been voluntary.
The hellhound padded around the desk. To her surprise, Bel’aliol did not eviscerate him, but instead reached down to scritch behind Rix’s ears with one hoof.
Then again, stroking a cat was an evil mastermind staple, so maybe this counted.
“I see a distinct lack of contract in your claw,” Bel’aliol continued as if Lucareoth had not interrupted.
His tone was mild, almost offhand. Like he was ordering an after-lunch cappuccino at a nice restaurant.
A cappuccino flavored with blood, perhaps.
“And a disconcerting presence of a human. Human, I don’t suppose you have signed a contract recently? ”
“N-no, sir,” she managed to get out as his gaze swiveled to her.
“I rather thought not,” he said, dismissing her presence again. She luxuriated in her momentary irrelevancy. “Now. We had talked about this. I do not typically expect to have the same conversation twice.”
Lucareoth opened his mouth and his boss held up a cloven hoof. “No, I suppose it is not the same conversation, but that is not a virtue when it turns out that this one is much, much worse.”
Why wouldn’t he defend himself? If the stakes were so high, surely it would be better say something?
But he knew better what worked here. Somehow all the references to eating people had seemed horrifying yet kind of funny on her plane; here, they were just a reason someone had to take on some additional forms.
Bel’aliol steepled his hooves. They formed much sharper an edge than steepled fingers ever could, an alpine slope capable of dumping deadly avalanches on the unwary and possibly splitting unwary pigeons in half.
He peered over them at Morgan and Lucareoth.
“So. We have, in order of seriousness, several days of unexcused absence. A missed quota. An unauthorized excursion to another plane, in complete defiance of any number of regulations and laws. And the trafficking of not only an un-negotiated soul but one you have untidily left unshucked. Do you have any idea of how many forms Xe’hel’thir is going to have to fill out this afternoon? ”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Morgan blurted. “My being here.”
“I suppose on your plane you care about matter of fault,” Bel’aliol countered. “I am concerned, rather, with matters of responsibility. Understand me, human—on this plane, you are a not a person, you are a utility. No one particularly cares what you have to say. So. This is what will happen.”
He placed his hooves on the desk blotter and leaned forward.
“Since we will have to fill out the paperwork for a planar crossing anyway, in triplicate, then that is what we shall do. For the first transit only. This little visit home never happened. I’ll speak to your colleagues and they will remember what serves them best. You’ve been over once; there is no shortcut home. Bring us a soul, or do not come back.”
Lucareoth’s scales had turned dull.
As an afterthought, Bel’aliol added, “The time away from the office counts against your vacation time, of course. I believe you’ve already blown through this year’s allotment, so I hope you did not have plans in the next year or two. Or however many.”
He turned to Morgan. “Now, your body cannot possibly stay here. So I will send it back.”
Morgan was not so stunned that she had missed the phrasing. “I have not signed any contracts giving you a claim on my soul.”
“Oh, I have no claim on your soul. I cannot possibly sell it or use it without the title paperwork.” Bel’aliol waved a hoof, unconcerned. “That does not, however, obligate me to transport it between worlds.”
She saw where this was going and wanted to throw up. It wasn’t like it was going to be better once they’d reviewed Lucareoth’s expense report, however that worked. “So you will offer me a Deal to let me go for a while, and then when I die, I end up back here in a glowstick or something.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be your soul. If you wish, we can leave that detail blank and you can fill it in at your leisure. As long as you have legal right to the soul you send back, I don’t have any particular attachment to the identity.”
“Sir—” Lucareoth tried to interject. His voice shook and his tail had wrapped itself around his leg for comfort, but he tried. It was a bigger risk than any she’d taken for him.
Bel’aliol’s eyes slid over to him. “Really? Her? How humane of you. I suppose you can help her, if you must, but another word and I’ll raise your own quota.”
Lucareoth’s jaw closed with a snap.
“And if I don’t sign?” She hated that her voice quavered. Rix padded back over to her and bumped his head against her thigh for comfort. His spines snagged her dress pants.
“Then you can live in a nice little soul jar. What did you call it? A glowstick. In storage. Or in my office, I suppose, if you think you might be lonely. For as long as you’d like.
I imagine after a time, you’ll want to be used if only for the change.
” He smiled, a small polite smile only slightly distorted by the teeth and the tusks.
She couldn’t doom someone else to this. What kind of person would she be?
He was opening a drawer, sliding out a sheaf of papers.
Her breath came faster and faster. None of this was her fault.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d even tried to help!
How could this possibly be fair? He was flipping through them, taking his time choosing the right one.
She didn’t want to live in a jar. She’d barely even begun to live.
She was only twenty-three: she was supposed to have her whole life in front of her.
Satisfied with his choice, the demon wedged a pen in the cleft of his hoof and began to write.
So many people had done things that were so much worse than anything she’d ever done—why was she the one to be punished?
The ink glowed sullenly for a moment before sinking into the paper.
Her throat tightened and she blinked rapidly, trying not burst into tears.
Unless that would make him feel bad? He didn’t seem like the kind to be swayed by tears.
Lucareoth’s tail lashed unhappily. I’m sorry, he mouthed at her.
Like that was going to make a difference, she wanted to scream at him.
Why couldn’t Tim have lived long enough to sign his contract?
He’d asked for this, not her. Plenty of people deserved this more than her.
Criminals. Corrupt politicians. Abusive husbands.
Ronaldo and his sexist bullshit, or Hayley and her touchy-feely bullshit, or Brad and his bullshit bullshit.
Any of them would have sold their souls at the drop of a hat for a better reward. At least they would have gotten a reward. She hadn’t even gotten a reward out of it, not unless you counted an increase in work with no change in title. Why hadn’t they been the ones to get the Deal?
They still could.
Two souls, that was all they needed. One to pay her debt, one for Lucareoth’s quota. In an industry where people joked about selling their souls all the time. It wasn’t even forever, it was just… How had she put it earlier? Indentured servitude. And they’d get their heart’s desire out of it.
Was it really that much worse than selling bullshit software?
All she wanted was to go home.
She met Bel’aliol’s eyes. And then, before her conscience or her common sense could catch up with her, she picked up a pen.