“You can’t be put in a soul vessel, you’re still in your body,” he pointed out. “And you didn’t bring any differential with you to arbitrage. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t delicious.”
She sucked in a breath and pressed herself against the wobbly wall. There wasn’t even anywhere to hide.
“Not to me!” he said quickly. She was startled; she hadn’t been hiding from him. It hadn’t even occurred to her to consider him a threat, and she wasn’t sure when that had changed. “But I can’t promise anything about my coworkers.”
“Could you disguise me? Like yours, but in reverse?” Maybe she would look fetching with scales and horns. But then, Lucareoth had been gorgeous in both forms. So she would probably make a dishwater demon. Dishwater was better than delicious.
“The budget’s for making Deals, remember?”
“And now we’re on the wrong side for that.” Shit, shit, shit.
“OK. OK, we can do this,” Lucareoth said to himself. “No one is looking for me, so we’ll hide here in the conference room until everyone’s gone for the day, and then we’ll…sneak… somewhere. My boss! Bel’aliol’s office has a whole set of books on the shelf. One of them has got to be useful.”
She swallowed, trying to get her mouth to produce saliva again. She sat on one of the molded chairs, whose texture felt subtly wrong but still creaked like cheap plastic.
The door opened.
A head peered in at waist height: Morgan managed to restrain herself to a jump and not a shriek. The compound eyes took up most of the face, with a tiny, incongruously delicate pair of lips beneath. Feathery antennae like a moth’s rose from farther back on the owner’s skull.
“I booked this conference room two days ago, you need to wrap whatever this is up. You’re already three minutes late. You always do this, Lucareoth,” the new demon said peevishly. Then she did a double-take. “Lucareoth? Where have you been? Bel’aliol’s been complaining about you disappearing without filing your leave paperwork for days.”
Then the demon saw Morgan. The antennae, which had been gently waving, probing the air currents, froze in shock. “Is that…? Lucareoth, what did you do?”
“Hi, Niseraz,” Lucareoth said, all his insouciance fled. “This is Morgan.”
Niseraz stepped the rest of the way into the room. She had translucent, veined wings that vibrated even when half-folded behind her, and two pairs of three fingered-hands, both sets of arms crossed angrily. Her fingernails had been painted a pearly pink that reminded Morgan of the cheaper polish in the cosmetics aisle of Duane Reade.
“Well, this puts a new light on your mystery disappearance,” Niseraz said. “I suppose you think you’re above the rules.”
If she’d had lids on her eyes, Morgan guessed the demon would have narrowed them.
“Nis,” Lucareoth said, his hands open, pleading. “We’ve always been friends.”
“We’ve never been friends,” Niseraz snapped. She cocked her head. “You want to protect her? Seriously? What can you offer?”
Morgan sucked in a breath. She’d seen coworkers blackmailed before, but never so fast or so blatant. Probably because most people were smart enough not to show their needs so publicly, but poker faces were clearly useless here. No wonder Lucareoth spent so much energy repressing desire.
And his desire was apparently to protect her.
“You’ve always wanted my stapler, it’s the Good Stapler,” Lucareoth said quickly.
Niseraz made a rude noise. “Or I can just wait until after Bel’aliol eviscerates you.”
“I’ll file your expense reports for you. A quarter of my paycheck. Wait, we can talk about this!”
She wheeled away, her buzzing wings briefly lifting her off the floor, and slammed the door behind her.
“You call that a negotiation? I thought you could tell what people wanted?” Morgan rounded on him.
“That doesn’t help when you don’t have anything they want!”
“Now what?” She was going to die here. She wished she’d done the yoga. She wished she’d eaten more ice cream. She wished she’d run a finger along his cheek and she wished she hadn’t just thought that where he could hear. She wished she’d done anything at all with her life.
“Stay here,” Lucareoth started to say, and then stopped. “No, wait, it’s too late for that. She isn’t going to tell Bel’aliol; she’s going to tell everyone. You’re safer staying with me now. Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Morgan protested as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door.
“Only choice now is to tell Bel’aliol ourselves,” he said and dragged her down the hallway.
