Chapter 22
There’s something so surreal about living on the edge of a war zone,” Morgan said, staring at the sea of order forms spread across the kitchen table, splattered with the traces of the caramel-pecan cookies currently in the oven.
Even their usually intoxicating smell wasn’t enough to calm her down.
She had given up trying to jump back and forth online between all the pages apparently necessary for organizing a major conference appearance with little more than a week’s notice and printed them out before she left the office.
It was only helping a bit. “Constantly aware of big scary things you can’t stop, but meanwhile you have to choose between the popcorn machine or the barista bar. ”
“Get both,” Luke said as he flipped through the three pages of floral display options.
“It’s Ravenfell’s money, not yours. You know Brad would want both if you asked him.
Besides, the number next to the popcorn machine is so much lower than the number you approved for the exhibitry printing, it disappears. ”
“They wanted twelve dollars for renting a freaking wastebasket.”
“Still nothing, in the big picture.”
“Did you say what happened to the folks who had originally rented this space?” There had mysteriously been an opening, in a prime location on the floor, when she’d called to ask.
“There was a mysterious leak to the investors that the founder was embezzling and the company needed to pull back the funds to pay the lawyers,” Luke said, not looking up from his paperwork.
Bel’aliol must be delighted at the mounting bill. She didn’t pursue it further.
“Why do they even have popcorn machines?” Gisele asked, peeking at the cookies. “I thought this was a tech trade show, not a kid’s birthday party.”
“Kelly says the smell draws people to your booth.” Morgan swatted her hands. “Because apparently tech executives have the same attention span as second graders.”
“Flaming crap, you can rent people.” Luke looked up. It seemed like a good sign that he had learned that this was horrifying.
“Ugh, Ronaldo’s booth babes. You’re not renting them, you’re hiring them.
” Morgan tried to figure out how the weird grid for the electrical rental was supposed to be filled out.
Were there instructions somewhere? “They’re just models.
They’re supposed to talk to leads until your real salespeople take over. ”
“Tech executives are horny second graders, got it,” Gisele said, making a face. “I don’t get why you’re not getting, like, a literal unicorn or something. It could be symbolic of being a metaphorical unicorn.”
“Don’t tell Brad that’s an option,” Morgan said. The timer beeped and she took the excuse to abandon the paperwork and retrieve the cookies. She had to smack Gisele’s hand again before her roommate burned herself.
Gisele grabbed one anyway, juggling it as it crumbled. She had a faraway look in her eye: one Morgan recognized.
“OK, spit it out.”
“So I get it—demon war, quotas, souls in mortal jeopardy,” Gisele said. “But I can’t help think we’ve got a lot of power at our fingertips at the moment. And we’re not using it.”
“You mean Luke?”
Luke looked a little affronted. “It’s not my power, I’m only the account rep.”
“Yeah,” Morgan said. “When we fixed Hayley, it got added to his quota. It’s not free.”
“I realize it’s not free.” Gisele toyed with the remainder of her cookie; it disintegrated into crumbs under her fingers. “But Morgan. Honey. If I understand right, you’ve already paid the price. Shouldn’t you get something out of it?”
“What, you think I should accept being damned and start demanding riches?” Morgan couldn’t help feeling a little betrayed.
Gisele looked a little betrayed herself. “I guess if that’s what you want. But no one seems to be talking about the fact there’s unselfish things to want, too.”
“What, like world peace?”
“Hey, I already said that’s way out of budget, even if it were a Deal instead of a freebie,” Luke protested. “I don’t think any one person could buy something that big, even if they owed the rest of time.”
“Fine,” Gisele snapped. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t tons of stuff that’s more achievable that wouldn’t also be pretty great. Get the right person elected. Help out a charity. Save someone from cancer. Change the life of one underprivileged kid.”
Luke looked like he was going to say something, and then shut his mouth.
Morgan flushed to not have considered it herself. “You’d think a lot of desperate parents down at the children’s hospital would consider selling their soul to cure their child, if nothing else.”
“Maybe something to think about?” Gisele had squished the cookie crumbs practically back into flour.
It was something to think about. Why did all this magic have to be spent on making rich people richer? Except there was a problem there. “You’re still saying I should give up and embrace my status as a martyr.”
“I didn’t say you should give up,” Gisele said, stricken.
“You kind of did, though?” Something a little like anger was starting to burn in her belly.
Apparently, it really was too much to want something.
Anything. Too much to want to live, even.
“So much for making my garden grow or whatever. I only wanted to make enough money to buy fancy ice cream. Why do I have to be the sacrifice?”
“Oh, honey,” Gisele said, grabbing her hand. “I’m not asking you to set yourself on fire to keep me warm.”
Luke pulled her into a hug. After a beat, Gisele joined them. Morgan let herself sniffle a little.
“Do you think I should be asking for something selfless?” she asked Luke, pulling back.
He shook his head. But didn’t say anything.
“Luke?” Something wasn’t right. “Can you… Can you not talk about this?”
He looked a little panicked.
Come to think of it, it wasn’t the first time in the last few days. “There’s something else. Something you can’t say. Something that Brad told you not to say?”
He opened his mouth again and nothing came out. Tried again. The cords of his neck stood out with the effort. A strangled squawk was all he could manage. He stopped, panting. “You know enough.”
“But I haven’t put it together,” she said slowly. There was something else here. Something even worse. “You’ve been trying to tell me for days, haven’t you?”
He looked at her mutely.
“It’s got to have something to do with the pivots,” she guessed. He didn’t say no. “A reason he wants to switch to be consumer-facing? A reason he keeps asking for all kinds of stupid stuff? Something to do with the vampires? Or the trade show?”
“Maybe kale is actually as evil as I’ve been saying all along,” Gisele joked weakly. She handed Luke a glass of water, which he took gratefully.
“I suppose you can’t give me a hint.”
He shook his head and then buried it in his hands.
“How am I supposed to guess while also preventing a demon war and signing another two deals?” she asked bitterly as she looked back down at the mess of unfinished forms. “I can’t even figure out what the symbol for an electrical outlet is supposed to be.”
* * *
Clutching her mug of Blueberry Bagel Morning, which only smelled vaguely chemical-y, she paused at the door and looked over her coworkers settling into their days.
She’d been up far too late the previous night, trying to find some kind of question that could get past whatever restrictions Luke had on him.
It hadn’t netted much except an increasingly haggard Luke.
How was it connected? It wasn’t that she didn’t think Brad was stupid; he was, in so many ways.
But he was cunning and, above all else, self-interested.
He was convinced he could beat the demons at their own game, she was sure.
But what did it have to do with kale smoothies?
Or his weird obsession with sign-up pages?
She needed to make some kind of progress at something or she was going to lose her mind.
Maybe another try at Ronaldo? This time telling him what he would be signing?
Brad sauntered toward his office but saw where her eyes were resting and paused.
Then he continued on. But a few minutes after she sat down to confirm the printer’s proofs for the booth exhibitry, he pinged her on Slack.
She and Luke exchanged a helpless glance before abandoning their email and trotting over to see what he wanted.
“I saw that speculative look you were casting Ronaldo,” Brad said as soon as the door had closed behind them. “Let’s be clear—this Deal we’ve got going? It’s exclusive.”
“That’s not part of the contract,” Luke started to say. “Requests afterwards are not binding.”
“Maybe it’s not, but the non-compete in her contract is,” Brad said pointedly. “And yours. Do you have a contract with us? Whatever. You two come as some kind of weird pair, but let’s be clear—I don’t need her.”
Morgan felt like she was going to throw up. “Are you firing me?”
“No,” Brad said, nearly rolling his eyes. “But I am telling you that there is only one person in this company I expect to be getting supernatural help.”
“I thought you liked Ronaldo,” she said, a little bitterly.
“He’s a good dude,” Brad said. “But if you want to keep the chain of command clear, it’s important there’s only one captain on the ship, you know?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”
“Threat is such a harsh word. It really brings down the vibe, you know?” Brad tossed his mini-basketball back and forth between one hand and the other. “But no, I’m threatening her. You just care, which is your strategic error.”
If only they’d gone to Ronaldo with an explanation first, instead of trying the stupid ‘terms and conditions’ play. If only it had worked. If Ronaldo had gotten a Deal, he couldn’t possibly have been as insufferable as Brad.
Oh.
Her eyes widened. “That’s why you care so much about the sign-up pages.”
Luke’s sigh of relief confirmed it. Except it still didn’t make any sense.
“You’re not as dumb as you look,” Brad said, cocking his head.