Chapter 27
Uh, so, the booth babes keep disappearing with my prospects before I can set up a demo call,” Ronaldo said. He didn’t make eye contact, though, as his eyes were very firmly glued to the butt of one of said booth babes.
Well, that’s what he got for convincing Hayley to change the uniform order.
Hayley at least had the sense to order pants, but the succubi filled out normal pants in a way that mocked show regulations.
Morgan had thought the logo shirts safe until she saw exactly where the two OOs of Zabloom managed to fall.
The succubi seemed happy enough, though—one had even commented how nice it was to wear something that wasn’t drafty.
The booth didn’t look too bad. The temporary walls were printed with slogans about wellness that could easily apply to both software and the juicer.
She had rolldown banners that would be unfurled to reveal Kaleo in all its glory after Brad made the official announcement.
Given that the cost could have gotten her a nice one-bedroom apartment in midtown for a year, she was glad it at least came out respectably.
The trashcan she was renting for twelve dollars a day appeared to be a cardboard box with a plastic liner bag in it and one of the rented barstools wiggled enough that no one sat on it for more than a minute.
She looked at some of the monstrosities around her in neat rows filling the cavernous Exhibit Hall and wondered how many souls you’d need to sell to afford them.
One exhibitor had constructed an entire house, including an upper level.
The folks across the aisle had chair massagers and a build-your-own-sundae bar, and the ones down the row seemed to be doing some kind of indoor drone race, taking advantage of the soaring ceilings multiple stories above them.
She’d run into one guy she’d known back in elementary school whose family specialized in illusions.
He’d given her a half-hearted wave, clearly uninterested in being asked which company he was working for.
It wasn’t easy doing pitches when all they could really do was hint that a big announcement was coming later in the day. So if the succubi stole all the leads but encouraged them to come back later, she could live with that.
Justin-or-Josh strolled up sucking what might have been either a smoothie or three pixies caught in a blender, balanced on top of a pile of swag.
She could see two tightly rolled t-shirts, a water bottle, a key chain shaped like a disco ball, a miniature skateboard suitable for doing kickflips with your fingers, pre-packed Insomnia Cookies with branded labels from two entirely different companies, two notebooks, and that was just what she could identify from the mess.
A stuffed alligator and an umbrella peeked out of the branded tote he had slung over his shoulder, along with two other different branded totes.
“It comes in pints!” he quoted at her, holding the smoothie aloft. “They’re just giving this stuff away!”
“We’re here to sell products, not collect presents,” she said, trying to keep her patience. “Where’s…?”
She suddenly realized she couldn’t remember whether this was Josh or Justin. Fortunately, he answered without noticing.
“Josh got the cute chick two rows down to help him carry his haul because of his cast,” said the programmer who must be Justin. He waved his arm and three pens escaped. “Bro! Over here! They’re giving out cake pops at the next booth in an hour, bro!”
“Is this booth B-23?” A bored-looking workman pushed a cart up to their booth. She’d been hoping for Brad, who was late. Or her mother, who was also late. Or even Gisele, who apparently had tried to leave the apartment twice already but had received emergency edits from Brad each time.
“Yes, we’re Zabloom—this is the popcorn machine?”
“Yes ma’am. Sign here, here, and here—I’ll be back to pick it up at three-thirty. Send someone over to exhibitor services if you need a refill.”
“How much are refills?” She didn’t care about refills. She wanted her people where she could see them.
“Fifty bucks for a three-pack.” Highway robbery for ten dollars’ worth of popcorn, but she didn’t have an alternative.
Where was Luke? Brad had dragged him off to go over plans and left her here.
She checked her phone again, looking for texts that did not exist and trying not to feel like he was already pulling away from her.
They hadn’t talked after her mother had left (because she was a coward), just fallen into an exhausted sleep next to each other but not touching, an inch and a million miles apart. “Lady?”
“Oh, yeah, we’ll take one right now. Thanks.”
She hovered as the delivery guy set up the popcorn machine and started it popping.
One of the succubi fluttered a wave at a passing dude in a polo shirt and khakis.
He stopped in the middle of the aisle, causing another guy in a far better fitting polo shirt to nearly crash into him.
The victim drifted over, oblivious to dagger eyes from the people around him.
Ronaldo perked up and moved to intercept.
But once again, the succubus and her captive ignored him.
“What the hell? I thought they were supposed to get us leads,” Ronaldo fumed.
“I didn’t want them at all,” Morgan pointed out.
“What is that amazing smell?” the third and last of the succubi asked.
“Here, let me introduce you to popcorn. Scoop it into the paper cone with the scoop, don’t touch the metal part,” even though she wasn’t sure if the succubi could get burned, “and hand people the popcorn. And then send them to Ronaldo, don’t take the people anywhere.”
The succubus pouted, and then sniffed again. “It’s food?”
“How do you not know what popcorn is?” Ronaldo scoffed. “Or are you one of those sorority girls who live on black coffee, lettuce, and sem—”
“Finish that sentence and you’re fired,” Kelly said, coming up. “I’d love some of the popcorn, please. Has anyone seen Brad?”
“He’s still prepping for his announcement,” Morgan said. Her phone buzzed. It was her mother. Finally. “I’m going to go look for him.”
The succubus tentatively put a piece of popcorn in her mouth. Her eyes grew round. She shoveled a handful in after it.
“Great,” said Kelly. “Ronaldo, get back to the front of the booth. Hey, stop eating all the popcorn. You can have some, but leave most of it for the prospects. Now, everyone, what are our two rules today? First rule is?”
“Don’t demo the Kaleo until after Brad’s pitch,” everyone mumbled back for the third time that day.
“Great,” said Kelly. “And after the pitch, the rule is?”
“Don’t double-load the Kaleo.”
Morgan hurried off, making a calendar reminder to check if she needed refills in an hour.
She didn’t want to be thinking about popcorn when she could be facing the end of the world as she knew it, but no one else was going to think about the popcorn.
She’d pulled off a miracle to get this entire thing set up in so little time: it looked amazing, and it hurt that no one was really even going to notice with all the other potential fireworks going off.
They would have noticed if she’d failed, though.
Halfway to the entrance, she ran into Gisele. Who had a familiar friend with her, wearing an unfamiliar vest.
“Why is Rix here?” Morgan demanded. “And where did you even get a support animal vest?”
“Look, I’m not going to leave him in the apartment on his own. I already don’t know how to explain the bite marks taken out of the fire escape,” Gisele whispered back. “And Luke added it to the illusion.”
“Fake support vests give real support animals a bad name!” Morgan protested, but quietly.
“Yeah, I know, but also we’re involved in a soul-laundering ring and I can’t afford not to get at least some of the damage deposit back. Priorities.”
Morgan opened her mouth and then stopped and chose to let it go. “Fine. You’re going to the booth?”
Gisele shook her head. “Brad and Luke are holed up in one of the rent-a-meeting-rooms.”
She thought about being trapped in a room with fake walls with Brad while he prepped for a speech, and felt a tiny bit more relieved about Luke not texting her.
Maybe her mother was just getting into her head.
No, if things were broken between them, it wasn’t Fiona; it was one hundred percent her fault.
She tried to push past the navel-gazing she didn’t have time for. “How is it going?”
“I’m tacking on my pain-in-the-ass surcharge,” Gisele said matter-of-factly.
“Because your boss is definitely one of the bigger pains-in-the-ass I’ve had to deal with.
He’s got two speeches—the five-minute Disruptors Stage pitch and then the Spotlight Series demo on the floor—and he’s being a big baby about them both. ”
“Well, I’m the one who will sign off on the expense, so go ahead and tack it on,” Morgan sighed.
“Where are you off to, then? I would have thought you’d be babysitting the booth.”
“I’m supposed to be finding my mother—oh, there she is.”
Her mother had a Black man with her. They both had attendee badges devoid of title or company name.
Fiona had put on a white button-down as a nod to the professionals around her, but undercut the gesture by layering her battered leather coat over top.
Black leather was cool; black leather with a scorch mark on the shoulder was a little eccentric.
Gisele patted her arm and took the opportunity to escape.
“I brought backup,” Fiona announced as Morgan came into speaking range. “You remember Steve Cunningham from the Council, right?”
She didn’t, but she shook hands anyway. He was younger than her mother, maybe in his forties, and moved with the easy grace of someone who had some kind of movement training. She was willing to bet martial arts or military over dance.
“How did you even get badges?” Morgan asked. “Did you just…” She waved her hand like she was magicking them up.
“Oh, your mother knows people, you know that,” Fiona smiled. But her eyes were wary and scanning around them. She was in work mode now.
Morgan gulped a breath. Her mother always knew people.
The cavalry was here to save the day. And she was grateful, she really was.
But it emphasized once again that, even when she was in the center of the story, the story would never be about her.
Steve could probably cast lightning bolts or fireballs or something, and her mother could stake a vampire while side-kicking a zombie, and Morgan could make a social media post with the tradeshow hashtag and order more popcorn.
“We’re going to split up and look for ripples from Infernal magic.
We can’t see anything directly but we’ll be looking for any effects that can’t be explained,” Steve said, pulling out his phone.
“Your mom gave me your number, I’m texting you mine now.
We’re only a text away if you notice something we haven’t, OK? ”
She nodded mechanically as her phone buzzed and added him to her contacts. Then he took off, grabbing a custom logo cookie from one of the stands. It was nice to know even powerful Council mages weren’t immune to the lure of free sugar.
“You OK, pumpkin?” Fiona looked at her with concern, like she was likely to break down and confess her concerns about her demonic boyfriend in between the booths for AI personal assistants and actual drink-making robots.
“I’m fine,” Morgan insisted. At least Fiona couldn’t tell what she wanted. This wasn’t the time to deal with any of it. In any case, her mother had been bad at heart-to-hearts when she’d been in high school and she hadn’t gotten any better since.
“All right. Your booth thing is over that way?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have to stop by. I know you worked hard on it.” It was the tone people used for complimenting a kindergartener on her handmade glittery macaroni necklace.
Morgan snapped. Quietly and politely because she was in the middle of a trade show floor and she did want to continue to work in the industry, but still.
“This is my job, Mother. I realize it’s not as important as your work, but it’s important to me.
And I am doing a good job. And you won’t even know from looking at it, because the things I’m good at have nothing to do with what you do, so why don’t we both skip that part.
You don’t care, I’ve made peace with that, and we don’t have to keep pretending. ”
Fiona’s eyes flashed. “Have I ever criticized you for choosing a different path from me? I’m glad you chose a different path from me. You have a nice little life. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and safe.”
“That’s what you say, but that’s never been what you meant.
You always say the things like I can’t hear the disappointment behind every word.
I’m sorry my life is little; I’m sorry I’m not more like you.
But I’m not.” Her throat was tightening.
“You know what? I’m sorry, this was a mistake.
I brought it up, it’s my fault, but I can’t have this conversation here and now. ”
“So you’re going to dump this on me and then shut it down?” Fiona’s hands were balled into fists. Her mother would never hit her, she knew, but she wasn’t so sure about the hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of exhibitry around them.
“Yeah, I am.” Morgan took a shaky breath. “You have things to do. I think you should go do them now.”
Fiona’s lips compressed into a line. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we have demons to stop.”
They wouldn’t discuss this again if Morgan could help it. She gave a short, sharp nod to end the conversation.
Fiona blew out a breath and very deliberately relaxed her hands. She turned, walking off with only a brief glance over her shoulder.
Morgan took another breath, trying to get her equilibrium back. Right now was not the time to be off-balance.
“Your mom?” asked a familiar voice.