[*]
There
was a cliff, only just inside the city limits on a technicality. The pre-dawn light made finding the dusty
trail up from the small parking lot to the cliff edge difficult, even
dangerous. Yet these were her
instructions, and Lilah Morgan was nothing if not dutiful. Especially as disobedience would mean her
death by lingering torture, resurrection and then still more torture and
death. Repeat ad infinitum et nauseum.
Lilah
debated whether she should go back to her car and change into her jogging
shoes, but discarded that notion quickly.
Though hiking up a mountain trail in six-inch heels was no fun, the
consequences of missing her appointment would be far worse than a twisted
ankle.
Those
thoughts of torture and death, as always, depressed Lilah. Her own, of course, but even it being done to
others sickened her. Of course it did. If she had been in any other business, worked
for any other bosses, this would have been natural and right. But Lilah worked for demons. She was the cliché evil lawyer. If “The Devil and Daniel Webster” ever
happened in real life, she would have been the Devil’s attorney. And she would have won, too.
There
were compensations for selling your soul, even if done piecemeal over years;
the comfort with which she lived and the comfort she was able to provide for
her family, was the main one. Whenever
she saw her mother, now fully gone into her dementia and likely to spend years
there, Lilah knew that her sacrifice was worth it. Instead of her mother dying in her own filth,
she was instead being cared for day and night.
Her mother was as happy as she could be, and loved as best as Lilah
could love her. This was Lilah’s
happiness, and the motivation that drove her to wield the word and the knife
for her monstrous masters as they spread evil in the world.
It had
been early on in her legal career, a newly-minted associate at Wolfram and
Hart, that she had been made aware of the true nature of the firm. She had thought that Wolfram and Hart was
simply one of a number of high-profile, international law firms. Rich and influential, certainly, though there
were others with far wealthier clients, and who have won bigger cases. It was strange that no one ever saw the
Senior Partners. Yet still the salary,
bonus package, and health insurance had been enough to fill the younger Lilah
with glee and not ask any stupid questions.
It had
been her superior, Holland Manners, who had introduced her to the truth of the
matter. From atop a murdered anonymous
girl, she signed in her own blood the contract that sold the first part of
herself for power. Yet she recognized, even
if Manners did not, that the power he offered and she would wield was illusory. All she would be in the eyes of the Senior
Partners, those monstrous, never-seen demons who proclaimed that hell was
already on Earth and they its rulers, was a favored, pampered slave. She was a source of pleasure to them, and a
resource to be used or wasted as their whims took them.
Yet the
perks of her position were such that she could never go back. Beyond the money and comforts, there were the
pleasures she indulged in. Always
twisted, never clean, still she teetered on the edge of addiction to those sick
delights that were available to her.
Even now, as the sun was just about to come up over the mountains behind
her, and as painful as the walk had become, she felt a sudden jolt running from
the top of her head to her loins and then back up again at the thought of her
reward for a good day’s work. Yet this
thought also brought with it a sour pain in her stomach, and the taste of blood
and vomit in her mouth.
She
hoped that, given the chance, she would give all the indulgences up if she could
just feel clean again. She doubted she
ever would.
So here
she was, following cryptic commands from on high, to come to this cliff at the
edge of a nowhere city, in a nowhere county, in the wilds of central California. She was to be there before dawn, and there
observe as the representative of Wolfram and Hart. Further, and here things got very strange,
she was to speak of what occurred to none.
Not to Manners, from whom the instructions came, not to any of the other
associates, not even to the Senior Partners themselves should they come to
ask. Manners had seemed troubled and
alarmed by this instruction. Yet
nevertheless those were the words and wishes of the Senor Partners, and he
dared to neither omit them nor subvert them.
The sun
had yet to rise fully when she came to the wide cliff. There, just before its edge, was what could
have been a woman. Though she could now
see her way around, it was still dark enough for Lilah to see that the woman
was glowing. Not that the woman was
holding a flashlight really close, not that the sun was catching her just
so. Rather she was, honest to god,
glowing with a pure white light like some kind of angel from a terrible gift
card.
The
woman, who had been staring down at the city, turned at Lilah’s approach, still
glowing. Despite the unearthly light
emanating from her, she was dressed in a lightly embroidered gray shirt and
gray dress pants, with calfskin boots.
Her black hair hung to her shoulders in light waves, with her bangs
framing her face. She smiled in welcome
as Lilah came to stand by her.
It was
time to take control of the situation, and the best way to start was with first
impressions. “Lilah Morgan, Senior
Associate at Wolfram and Hart, PC.” She
took the glowing woman’s hand and gave a firm handshake, while looking her
soberly in the eyes.
“Hi,”
said the woman, “I’m—oh, it’s starting.” They
turned then to the edge of the cliff, where a black cat appeared, suddenly and
without fanfare. Almost immediately
after a dog walked out from behind a scrub brush and joined the cat.
The cat
began to speak. Lilah wasn’t even
surprised by that, jaded as she’d become to the strangeness of the world. “Well, that was a thing that happened,” said
the cat, wryly.
“Did
not see that coming,” said the dog. It
sat on its haunches and began to lick itself.
“You’ve been around a while. Has
this ever happened before?”
“Not
since the time of No-Time, when being and un-being were united,” said the
cat. “This wasn’t any temporal folding
or quantum leap or what have you.”
“That
was a good TV show. The ending didn’t
make a damn bit of sense,” said the dog, interrupting.
“I
always liked the hologram,” agreed the cat.
“And that Halloween episode was very good.”
“Anyway,”
said the dog, “if this wasn’t a temporal fold, then it had to have been a . . .
what, restructuring?”
“Reconfiguration
from a prior state.” And then here the
cat turned to look at the glowing woman, and the dog did the same. “With some changes, obviously.”
“Yeah.” The dog resumed licking himself. In between licks, he said, “I think I detect
the hand of my sister. Aunt. Counterpart.
Whatever.”
“Maybe. There again, maybe not. She wasn’t at the center of things, whereas
your mother and father were. And while
she might have the power, she has no access to it in her current state. Nor I believe would she have had the . . .
presumption to do so.”
“Maybe. No, you’re probably right. Still, she is human, and that means she can
surprise even us, as we’ve just seen demonstrated.”
The cat
nodded in agreement, an odd thing to see a cat do.
There
was a cliff, only just inside the city limits on a technicality. The pre-dawn light made finding the dusty
trail up from the small parking lot to the cliff edge difficult, even
dangerous. Yet these were her
instructions, and Lilah Morgan was nothing if not dutiful. Especially as disobedience would mean her
death by lingering torture, resurrection and then still more torture and
death. Repeat ad infinitum et nauseum.
Lilah
debated whether she should go back to her car and change into her jogging
shoes, but discarded that notion quickly.
Though hiking up a mountain trail in six-inch heels was no fun, the
consequences of missing her appointment would be far worse than a twisted
ankle.
Those
thoughts of torture and death, as always, depressed Lilah. Her own, of course, but even it being done to
others sickened her. Of course it did. If she had been in any other business, worked
for any other bosses, this would have been natural and right. But Lilah worked for demons. She was the cliché evil lawyer. If “The Devil and Daniel Webster” ever
happened in real life, she would have been the Devil’s attorney. And she would have won, too.
There
were compensations for selling your soul, even if done piecemeal over years;
the comfort with which she lived and the comfort she was able to provide for
her family, was the main one. Whenever
she saw her mother, now fully gone into her dementia and likely to spend years
there, Lilah knew that her sacrifice was worth it. Instead of her mother dying in her own filth,
she was instead being cared for day and night.
Her mother was as happy as she could be, and loved as best as Lilah
could love her. This was Lilah’s
happiness, and the motivation that drove her to wield the word and the knife
for her monstrous masters as they spread evil in the world.
It had
been early on in her legal career, a newly-minted associate at Wolfram and
Hart, that she had been made aware of the true nature of the firm. She had thought that Wolfram and Hart was
simply one of a number of high-profile, international law firms. Rich and influential, certainly, though there
were others with far wealthier clients, and who have won bigger cases. It was strange that no one ever saw the
Senior Partners. Yet still the salary,
bonus package, and health insurance had been enough to fill the younger Lilah
with glee and not ask any stupid questions.
It had
been her superior, Holland Manners, who had introduced her to the truth of the
matter. From atop a murdered anonymous
girl, she signed in her own blood the contract that sold the first part of
herself for power. Yet she recognized, even
if Manners did not, that the power he offered and she would wield was illusory. All she would be in the eyes of the Senior
Partners, those monstrous, never-seen demons who proclaimed that hell was
already on Earth and they its rulers, was a favored, pampered slave. She was a source of pleasure to them, and a
resource to be used or wasted as their whims took them.
Yet the
perks of her position were such that she could never go back. Beyond the money and comforts, there were the
pleasures she indulged in. Always
twisted, never clean, still she teetered on the edge of addiction to those sick
delights that were available to her.
Even now, as the sun was just about to come up over the mountains behind
her, and as painful as the walk had become, she felt a sudden jolt running from
the top of her head to her loins and then back up again at the thought of her
reward for a good day’s work. Yet this
thought also brought with it a sour pain in her stomach, and the taste of blood
and vomit in her mouth.
She
hoped that, given the chance, she would give all the indulgences up if she could
just feel clean again. She doubted she
ever would.
So here
she was, following cryptic commands from on high, to come to this cliff at the
edge of a nowhere city, in a nowhere county, in the wilds of central California. She was to be there before dawn, and there
observe as the representative of Wolfram and Hart. Further, and here things got very strange,
she was to speak of what occurred to none.
Not to Manners, from whom the instructions came, not to any of the other
associates, not even to the Senior Partners themselves should they come to
ask. Manners had seemed troubled and
alarmed by this instruction. Yet
nevertheless those were the words and wishes of the Senor Partners, and he
dared to neither omit them nor subvert them.
The sun
had yet to rise fully when she came to the wide cliff. There, just before its edge, was what could
have been a woman. Though she could now
see her way around, it was still dark enough for Lilah to see that the woman
was glowing. Not that the woman was
holding a flashlight really close, not that the sun was catching her just
so. Rather she was, honest to god,
glowing with a pure white light like some kind of angel from a terrible gift
card.
The
woman, who had been staring down at the city, turned at Lilah’s approach, still
glowing. Despite the unearthly light
emanating from her, she was dressed in a lightly embroidered gray shirt and
gray dress pants, with calfskin boots.
Her black hair hung to her shoulders in light waves, with her bangs
framing her face. She smiled in welcome
as Lilah came to stand by her.
It was
time to take control of the situation, and the best way to start was with first
impressions. “Lilah Morgan, Senior
Associate at Wolfram and Hart, PC.” She
took the glowing woman’s hand and gave a firm handshake, while looking her
soberly in the eyes.
“Hi,”
said the woman, “I’m—oh, it’s starting.” They
turned then to the edge of the cliff, where a black cat appeared, suddenly and
without fanfare. Almost immediately
after a dog walked out from behind a scrub brush and joined the cat.
The cat
began to speak. Lilah wasn’t even
surprised by that, jaded as she’d become to the strangeness of the world. “Well, that was a thing that happened,” said
the cat, wryly.
“Did
not see that coming,” said the dog. It
sat on its haunches and began to lick itself.
“You’ve been around a while. Has
this ever happened before?”
“Not
since the time of No-Time, when being and un-being were united,” said the
cat. “This wasn’t any temporal folding
or quantum leap or what have you.”
“That
was a good TV show. The ending didn’t
make a damn bit of sense,” said the dog, interrupting.
“I
always liked the hologram,” agreed the cat.
“And that Halloween episode was very good.”
“Anyway,”
said the dog, “if this wasn’t a temporal fold, then it had to have been a . . .
what, restructuring?”
“Reconfiguration
from a prior state.” And then here the
cat turned to look at the glowing woman, and the dog did the same. “With some changes, obviously.”
“Yeah.” The dog resumed licking himself. In between licks, he said, “I think I detect
the hand of my sister. Aunt. Counterpart.
Whatever.”
“Maybe. There again, maybe not. She wasn’t at the center of things, whereas
your mother and father were. And while
she might have the power, she has no access to it in her current state. Nor I believe would she have had the . . .
presumption to do so.”
“Maybe. No, you’re probably right. Still, she is human, and that means she can
surprise even us, as we’ve just seen demonstrated.”
The cat
nodded in agreement, an odd thing to see a cat do.