Having no physical capability or need for sleep meant that I was bright eyed and bushy tailed when I arrived at Morgenstern and Clark the next morning.
Compared to my typically frosty demeanour, my cool smirk could be 'perky.’
When I waved at Luiz as I entered the office, he had used another set of words. Intimidating was one of them.
I sank into my ergonomic office chair with a sigh. I couldn’t win them all.
I cast my eyes around my office until they rested on the bottle of wine from the day before. Tapping my manicured nails against the mahogany desk, I inhaled deeply to ground myself. My nostrils tingled with the faint scent of the beeswax polish that the cleaners used religiously on my writing desk.
Standing up, I walked over to the offensive bottle on my side table. I picked it up and rolled the green glass cylinder in between my frigid hands.
The ink on the side of the label had done what Luc intended it to do. Annoy me and entice me to lash out.
I placed the bottle down with a thud. If the Devil had wanted to fuck with my mind, he had succeeded.
You'll always be mine, written on the side in Luc’s calligraphy.
For a brief second, I had become the same little Hellion that he had sculpted to fit his every desire.
Coming back to reality, I knew that I was wasting my immortal years brokering souls for him.
I sacrificed my place by his side because he had told me that he needed me on Earth. My home would always be the ice castle in the centre of the First Circle.
Or it would have been ... until he broke my shrivelled Pureblooded demonic heart.
I snorted an indelicate laugh and shook my head as Luiz knocked on the open doorframe of my office, startling me out of my reverie.
“How was your evening, Ms. Clark?” Luiz smiled sedately.
I stared at my assistant blankly.
“Mine was rather brilliant if I say so myself.” Luiz continued unprompted. He walked into my office and made himself comfortable in my chair.
I blinked slowly in confusion. I had only recently acquired the Hellhound, and I could not say if I admired his gumption or thought of him as terribly idiotic.
“The Tyburn Tree is giving off some major Hell Magic now. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Luiz picked up my crystallised scorpion paperweight and grimaced at the insect encased in crystal.
“I had no idea that Hellhounds could sense such things,” I said dryly. I stepped in front of my desk and took the paperweight from his grubby mitts and placed it back on my desk with delicacy.
“The D trade is booming.” Luiz continued. “You can get anything from a human if you let them have a little bit of your blood.”
My brow pinched. “Why on earth would I do that?”
Luiz swung around in my chair, he had cranked it all the way back so that he was almost lying down. A small niggle at the back of my mind sighed that I would have to rearrange all my office chair's settings to get it just the way I liked it.
“Have you ever given a human your blood?” Luiz asked.
I perched on the edge of my desk and picked up one of the contracts that I had yet to file from the day before.
“No.”
“Why not?” Luiz licked his bottom lip, his eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“I killed my last Hellhound.” I lied smoothly. “She was a curious one too.”
“Liar.” Luiz snorted. “Meesha works at the Hound races. Don’t change the subject.”
My face gave nothing away as I internally debated the merits of confiding in my assistant. The sooner I gave him the answers he seeked, the sooner that he would leave me alone, I reasoned.
“Pure Blood is potent. I would only bequest it for a purpose.” I relinquished reluctantly. “To kill a human or to allow them to become a Vessel.”
“A Vessel?”
“For one of the Original Seven.” I supplied, with disinterest.
“Have you ever possessed anyone?” Luiz tapped his lip, his eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Yes.” I replied. “But Luc is more skilled than I.” I flicked through the paper on my desk before turning to my assistant. I held up the contract in my hands and crooked a brow. “Luiz, why is this contract not filed? Robert Parr's deal was simple.”
The Hellhound yawned, which I knew to be for dramatic effect more than anything else. “It got returned. Void. Null. Rejected.”
My face folded into a frown. “That’s never happened before.” I murmured to myself.
“What do you think it means?” Luiz skimmed the first page of the contract which I knew was ironclad.
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth before I caught myself amid the bad habit. I walked behind my desk and kicked Luiz's shin with the side of my stiletto to imply that he should move. I then proceeded to sit and check my compact for lipstick stains on my teeth.
“It’s not like the Devil to refuse a soul.” Luiz wrung his hands. His typically jovial demeanour had thawed into worry.
“Calm down. Luc likes to keep us on our toes.” I said, opening my laptop and signalling that I needed to get to work with a dismissive wave.
“Do you think he’s coming here?” Luiz whispered in awe.
“On all Seven Circles, I sincerely hope not.” I laughed, kicking off my shoes as I began to prep for my first clients of the day.
My first appointment was a young couple with a sick child. Congenital heart problems, something about valve replacements and needing a transplant. Humans are so fragile.
I agreed to find them a heart in exchange for their souls. They would live to the end of their natural life, which could end tomorrow or in seventy years, and then their souls would be tethered to Hell.
Not many people can be heinous enough to warrant the First Circle of Hell. It is reserved for betrayals that shake the foundation of the earth and put into motion things that should never come to pass. The souls that I delivered to the First Circle were not destined to be punished. They were simply fuel.
The people that rotted away in Lucifer’s torture chamber were the ones that deserved to be there. The people that I signed over were destined to be used up. Their soul would become fuel and never be redeemed or reborn.
Dealing with grieving parents, and taking their soul to extend their daughter's life was not a mood enhancer. The parents did not deserve to be used up and spit out.
I was their only option so I would not fight it.
Kneading my temples with my fists like bread dough, I rested my elbows on my desk. I watched Mr and Mrs Deluca's contract burst into a flurry of blackened Hellfire.
FAO Lucifer Morgenstern.
I slid my plush office chair away from the mahogany desk, it’s wheels moved sluggishly through the thick cream carpet. Leaning down, I plucked my Hermes handbag from the locked bottom drawer. I placed it on my shoulder and pressed the button on my office phone that connected directly to Luiz.
“I’m heading out for my appointment with Mr Kerning. I'll be back in two hours,” I informed him.
Striding past his desk and then through the maze of the other broker’s offices did nothing to ease my annoyance.
Almost all clients, even the most obnoxious ones, would come to the Morgenstern and Clark offices in Mayfair. We were a well-renowned brokerage firm in almost all fields. Mr Kerning, the next possible leader of the Labour Party had demanded that I meet with him outside of his office. As it had never happened before, it piqued my interest.
Simon, my driver, was waiting for me outside of the office; the sleek limo was parked in my designated spot and my driver was ready and waiting with the door open.
Kerning lived in Tottenham. The years had done wonders to some parts of London. I remembered when a woman wouldn’t have walked through Muswell Hill without a strapping man to protect them. Now the house prices were ostentatious and the schools were top tier.
Mike Kerning MP lived in a three-bedroom house; it had no other discerning features or personality. Simon parked up on the curb, almost certainly earning a ticket if the residents only parking signs were true.
Kerning's housekeeper opened the door and led me to the study.
My face soured. I disliked being treated as an employee. I loathed it when people asked to meet and then did not have the manners to greet me themselves.
I had half a mind to decline the MP's request and leave.
I had my own set of rules that co-aligned with Lucifer's. I could not make a man Prime Minister. I did not have the power to influence millions of British voters. It did not work that way.
“Ms. Clark,” Kerning stepped into the room behind me and I did not turn to greet him. “I am very happy that you were able to accommodate my whims and meet me at my residence.”
I turned around and narrowed my eyes. “I do not take daemons as clients.” I kept my voice level as I allowed my eyes to pursue his body. Leviathan. Envy daemon.
How had Luiz not known? I had walked into the meeting and assumed that I was meeting a human. I hated being blindsided.
Kerning cocked his head to the side. “I think we can help each other, Ms Clark.”
“I. Do. Not. Take. Daemons. As. Clients.”
“Well—,”
I waved my hand in dismissal.
“You may find it easy to forget, Mr Kerning, due to my impeccable wardrobe and my blonde hair but I am descended from one of the Seven Original Demons. I am a Pureblood.”
Kerning’s eyes bulged as his jaw clenched. He chewed his tongue as he tried to push words around it. He could not. I held up my hand and he shrank back.
“You thought to invite me to your home. Perhaps use your charisma to make me fall to your knees and somehow crown you the king of the house of Commons?” I quirked my brow and gave him an intense look of chastisement. Kerning opened his mouth to speak again, so I took his voice.
I forced the illusion into his mind. His lips melted together. Soldered and burnt flesh. Kerning began to panic and clawed at his face. His eyes sparkled with fear. Deciding that his frantic actions would not bring his ability to speak back, Kerning turned with his hands curled into claws. He lurched forward for my neck but I stepped into the space between worlds and around him.
“I. Do. Not. Take. Daemons. As. Clients.” I repeated, enunciating my words as I turned on my heel and left.
There is a vast and inscrutable difference between a Pureblood and a Daemon.
A Daemon was once human, but then corrupted by Hell Magic.
There are two types of Daemon: Elite Daemon and Low. Elites were corrupted directly and thus retained the ability to hold onto Hell Magic and have the power to create new Daemons.
Low Daemons were basically immortal humans.
Purebloods were creatures that were born of Hell. They had never been human. A handful walked the earth, the rest lived in various circles of Hell. I was one such creature.
The once human Daemons clung to the farce of the Elite Families. Structures of hierarchy and Power that had surpassed many human lifetimes. The Families had been around long before I had been banished from Hell. Each type of Daemon had their own Families. Incubi and Succubae were by far the most populated.
As far as I knew, there were no descendants of the First Circle, and thus no family of Treachery Daemons running about.
I had never had the desire to corrupt a human with Hell Magic and make them immortal. I had never shared my blood.
When I arrived back at Morgenstern and Clark, I found a human behind my assistant’s desk. Cocking my head to the side in confusion, the tiny intern blustered and offered me coffee. To which I declined.
“Mr. Ramirez had a family emergency to attend to, so he asked me to fill in.” The redhead explained. She was unable to meet my eyes and would shift from one foot to the other. At one point, she placed her hand on her ear and I knew that it caused her discomfort to be in my presence.
I turned and walked into my office without a word. Peeved at Mike Kerning and whatever the Envy Daemon had planned, I opened my MacBook and wiped all my client meetings for the rest of the afternoon.
No sooner had I pressed, “delete”, did the trilling sound of my office phone fill the space around me.
I picked up the handset.
“Clark,” I answered simply, as I picked up my bag and readied myself to go home.
“Ms. Clark, it’s Marina from the Italian office. Mister Luc would like to pass on a message,” the subtle purr of Luc's Sicilian Hellhound would be the closest I had spoken to Lucifer in an age. I found myself unable to work my jaw, anger had turned my words into taffy inside my mouth.
“Tell Mr. Morgenstern that if he has a message then he can speak to me directly,” I said curtly, clutching the handset with white knuckles.
“Mr. Luc wanted to know why you have cancelled your appointments for this afternoon? Si?”
“Marina, tell Mr Morgenstern that whatever I do is my own business and not his.” I snarled.
“Mr. Luc will not like to hear that Miss Clark.” Marina's beautiful lilting voice sounded playful but that was just how she spoke.
I slammed the receiver down and then ripped the cord from the wall. Plaster left a cloud of white dust on my carpet and I had a uncouth hole in my wall. I did not care.
My personal mobile phone began to ring; it was an unknown number.
“Marina, I will reach through this phone and pull out your vocal cords if you attempt to speak to me on Mr Morgenstern's behalf again!” I hissed into my phone.
“Ms. Clark?” Luiz’s voice was shaky but I knew it wasn’t my tirade that had caused his fearful reaction. Luiz dealt with my fits of anger like an old hand.
“Luiz?”
“Ms. Clark. I need your help. Can you come to the Fold at Denmark Place?”
“If you’ve gotten tangled up in some daemon scheme, I may have to rescind your payslip.” I muttered.
Luiz laughed nervously and I knew that someone was listening to his phone call.
“I may have mentioned that I knew a human that can tell the truth from a lie.” Luiz wrung the sentence out like a nervous rag.
At least he hadn’t informed any one of my heritage. That was something.
“I’ll see you soon,” I did not wait for his response as I hung up.
I despised going into the Folds. They were almost completely daemonic domains. A fold was the space where the fabric of Hell and Humanity met and thinned. Normally caused by a heinous event such as mass slaughter or grief.
Many of the folds were places of revelry for daemons. Bars and clubs, hidden away in pockets around London. Some were simply used for transport.
I had the ability to Lace the fabric of space together. I could travel any distance if I willed it. However, Luiz had done me a favour by keeping my Pureblooded lineage a secret from whatever daemons had attached themselves to him.
I stepped onto the curb and slipped into my Limo, signalling for Simon to take me to the outskirts of Camden, where the Fold in question was located.
When the car pulled to a stop, I took a second to collect my thoughts as I severed my connection to Hell.
I stepped onto the broken concrete and found Luiz was waiting for me.
I looked at him in question. My eyes sought the shimmering film of the Fold, and Luiz held my hand out for him to hold.
Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten. I was playing the role of a simpering human. One who would not be able to venture into the Fold without help from a Daemon.
Samba music accosted my ears as we stepped onto the dancefloor as easily as disembarking from an elevator. The Fold was almost empty due to it being mid-afternoon. Luiz led me through the array of dark furniture and down a staircase. My heels clacked against the wooden floor. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was not sticky.
“What do you need me for?” I whispered.
Luiz's chocolate button irises flicked to mine. “You’ll see in a second.”
A door appeared on my left, as if materialising from nowhere. My senses were dull and sluggish as I was cut off from Hell and little more than a human. I had not seen the Magic that had hidden the door until I was almost touching it with my nose.
Luiz depressed the handle and gestured for me to walk through first.
I did not know what I expected to see, but it was not a blonde she-daemon strapped to a chair with her throat in the grip of a man. And I did not expect to see Samuel Rose as the owner of that hand.