Morgan nodded, mentally apologizing to the poor company before hers for the pain she was about to unleash upon them. “And your colleague?”
Fiona smiled. “Steve has his hands full with the Valefar guy. You’re safe. Go!”
Morgan took off powerwalking again, switching to the next aisle over to come up to the back of the booth. Fortunately, by this point, the rest of the team were all in the front preparing for the reporters and investors to arrive, with Gisele huddled on the ground in the narrow space behind their back wall and the curtain that divided them from the next booth. A pile of giveaways with a Post-It labeledJustin’s, Don’t Toss!!were wedged in beside her. She sat with her laptop in her lap, Rix curled up next to her.
“Luke got you up to speed?”
“Only kind of. Not sure I get it. Then he ran out to summon Bel’aliol. Who went for the Italian three-piece suit for his glamour, by the way. His shoes are so polished I can see myself in them.”
“All right, so here’s what I’m thinking. The contract is on the iPad, and we’re casting it up to the big screen in the back when Kelly signs it, right? And there’s the whole bit where Brad pauses to highlight the soul clause, ha ha, very funny. What if we make the clause a static slide—tell him it’s so you can zoom in so people can read it—and then change just the contract on the iPad? So it looks like the contract includes the clause but the thing she signs doesn’t?”
Gisele nodded. “I can do that. I’m already set up to control the rest of the presentation from back here, since half the website doesn’t work anyway. But I need a few more minutes to make the switch, and our slot is supposed to be any minute now!”
Morgan craned her neck around the edge of the exhibitry. Farther down the row, Vesper was gesticulating in front of a very confused-looking group, his dapper umbrella tucked under his arm now that he was in the safely windowless exhibit floor. “I think we have a couple more minutes.”
But even as she spoke, the host leading the Spotlight Series investor parade was shepherding the group on, trying to keep them on schedule. “Can you go any faster?”
“Do you want them to be able to tell?” Gisele snapped. Morgan gnawed at her thumbnail. The investors and reporters were arriving at the booth. She ducked back so they couldn’t see her.
Brad was starting his pitch. She looked over Gisele’s shoulder as she frantically moved files around, projecting the presentation up on an alternate screen even as she continued to fix the alignment on the screenshot.
“And how exactly is this different from Juicero?” asked a familiar voice.
Mentally, she blessed Stavrula. She didn’t know whether her mother had grabbed the reporter and asked her to delay, or whether she’d decided to go for the jugular on her own.
“Ouch!” Brad made it sound like a joke, but she could tell he was annoyed to be compared to the legendary startup who had failed when it had been revealed their juicer packs could be squeezed by hand instead of by their $750 machine. “Well, for one thing, I don’t think you’re going tofind anyone who wants to shred kale by hand.”
He paused while the rest of the reporters laughed obediently. “But also, sometimes success is a matter of timing. I don’t think the world was ready for subscription juices back in 2017. Now, we have a sophisticated target audience that has grown accustomed to all its products being subscription-based.”
Morgan didn’t think most consumers were so much accustomed as bitterly resigned to everything being on a subscription model, but she needed him to keep talking. “Now?”
“Got it!” Gisele swapped in the new file and breathed a sigh of relief.
Morgan turned her phone camera to front-facing, and eased the camera around the bend like a mirror so she could see what was going on. Brad had shown off the many smoothie flavors, all of which were static, unclickable images—and none of which existed yet. He clicked the order button and, rather than the button loading the site, Gisele swapped in the next screen from behind the wall.
“We’re so confident that this is going to change our customers’ lives that we’re asking them to put their money where their mouth is. Or rather, their soul. Only a teeny bit, though—because while most of us would sell our souls for better health, all we’re asking for is a fraction!”
Gisele’s mockup zoomed in on the soul clause and the audience laughed again. Morgan re-angled the camera. Luke was standing near the front, anxiously twisting his hands. The handsome man next to him with the sharp suit and salt-and-pepper hair watched the presentation, eyes glittering. She swallowed.
Kelly walked up at Brad’s gesture, smiling broadly and picking up the iPad. Morgan swallowed, her mouth dry. This was a terrible last moment, sitting on cheap industrial carpet under fluorescent lighting, listening to stock music on the demo video loop from the booth next door for the hundredth time that day. She’d never been to Paris. She’d never even had a job she liked. She was never going to get married or have kids or accomplish much beyond saving the world, and almost no one would even know she’d done that.
Kelly typed her name and clicked the tick box acknowledging the terms and conditions. She hit theAcceptbutton.
34
Nothing happened.
Which didn’t surprise most of the audience, who thought she’d merely signed up for a database she’d presumably be screened out of automatically based on her employee email address. The more cynical or knowledgeable would guess that she hadn’t even been entered, because who would bother hooking a conference demo up to the customer relationship management database?
But Bel’aliol’s eyes narrowed.
Brad, the consummate showman, continued to the actual juicer part of the demo. But she could tell he was shaken. He probably couldn’t know that the soul hadn’t transferred: it wasn’t like he could have sensed the energy flow. But he could tell Bel’aliol was pissed.
Behind Bel’aliol, she could see her mother glaring at the back of the demon’s head. She wanted to do something about him but couldn’t in the crowd. Then something caught her mother’s eye. Her mouth got tight. She shook her hands the way Morgan knew would loosen the enchanted daggers hidden in her wrist sheaths. Morgan angled the phone. There was nothing there.
She risked a quick peek around the wall herself.
The angel was watching them all.
