Arc 16 (Judgment)
The lawyers arrived from beyond the gate that bordered the property. Rose was pretty sure they hadn’t truly approached. They were there, but they hadn’t come from further away. They hadn’t crossed the space from some distant point to there, before they’d started to make their way up the shattered driveway.
Folding space, or manipulating connections, Rose couldn’t be wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like demons didn’t open doors into messing with the fundamental structures of things.
An ugly thought, that. If they were drawing on demons every time they paid a visit…
Rose eyed the lawyers as they approached. Levinn was the most recognizable, an older man, veteran member of the firm. She also recognized the driver that had taken her to Toronto before the Conquest fiasco, though she didn’t remember specifics-
Memories flooded her mind. Out of place, out of sync with her own. As if viewed from the wrong perspective, the words and responses jarring with her own.
A conversation with the driver. Word choice, priorities, meaning. Getting the book Black Lamb’s Blood.
It didn’t feel good, and her head pounded uncomfortably, the edges of her thoughts burning or dissolving into static at the edges, recovering slowly.
“Tone it down,” she murmured.
Alister shot her a look.
She shook her head a little. “Nothing.”
Walking behind the group was the creepy man who had delivered supplies to the house after her return from Toronto. Long haired, prone to leering, he’d always struck her as the type that had probably been one of the worst kinds of diabolists, before.
Of the two new practitioners she didn’t recognize, one seemed to be occupied by something. He came across as more Other than human, with dark circles under the eyes, and an unhealthy color and texture to his flesh. When he was viewed with her Sight, it became clear that something crawled beneath the skin.
Bringing the total number of demons present up by one.
“What have you gotten us into?” the Elder Sister asked, under her breath.
As the lawyers crossed the distance to Ms. Lewis’ side, the group from Toronto backed away, forming loose battle lines as they did so. A few weapons were discreetly drawn.
Rose used Conquest’s eyes to assess the situation, and she didn’t like what she saw. If she stood on the other end of the battlefield, assessing the assembled group, she could have pinpointed a number of ways to break them, just by body language alone.
A lack of teamwork, obvious at a glance. This was a motley crew, press-ganged into fighting by necessity. Certain things stood out as being particularly vulnerable.
The Astrologer was a member of the group, but stood alone, apart from the others.
The sphinx was reacting to the demons with more fear and alarm than anyone else. Isadora had backed away more than anyone else, when the group had retreated some. The fear of demons was apparently stronger when one was immortal. Or was it that the sphinx noticed things that others didn’t?
Paige, the sphinx’s follower, hadn’t realized just how much Isadora had backed away, and stood off to one side, just a little more vulnerable.
Rose’s own group, huddled within the damaged diagram, hadn’t moved at all. On a level, consciously or unconsciously, the members of Toronto had put the group between themselves and the assembled enemy, imps and lawyers both.
If that continued, it could spell disaster.
“What a grotesque lot,” the sphinx spoke. Wary as she was, she didn’t let it show in her tone.
“Petty insults?” the old man asked.
“You seem poised for a war,” the Elder Sister observed.
“You seem to be under the impression that this will be anything but one sided,” Levin spoke. “Lewis? Please. There are things to look after.”
Ms. Lewis nodded. She squared her shoulders.
Rose felt her heartbeat pick up.
Blake was inside her, feeding her parcels of information. Collecting memories, pushing them to the surface.
Grandmother’s notes on the lawyers. Observations, collected across the diaries.
All drawn together like this, one after another, Rose found her head making a few connections that she hadn’t made when reading the diaries back-to-front, several times over.
Grandmother had written about every aspect of her life, and for the most part, she had been frank. The diaries were diaries, and they held all the weaker and more embarrassing moments of adolescence, of romance and a brief affair with Aimon Behaim. Even a visit to New York, to meet with a cabal of diabolists, for discussion, the trading of books, and an orgy.
She’d detailed her family life, which had been a challenge in every respect. Finding a husband had been hard, when she’d been limited to Jacob’s Bell, and a husband that met her requirements was harder still. She’d settled on a young man who was in Jacob’s Bell to dodge trouble, and had written about being relieved when he’d dodged Jacob’s Bell and his fledgling family too. Compared to so many other mothers out there, she’d written so little of family. They were an obligation, something she had little care for. Her grandchildren had piqued more interest, but she’d watched them from a distance, interfering only periodically and anonymously.
All this was committed to paper. She’d held nothing back, and she’d still been willing to leave her diaries for Rose to find. Regular updates over the course of a long life.
It was, Rose realized, akin to the way a legal office might send a file, along with dozens or hundreds of other boxes of files.
The information in demand was there, it was only buried.
Family, husband, romance, sex, each had their turn at being glossed over. But Lewis, Levin, and Mann were there, regularly, details provided.
Blake brought up the various little details and notes, one after another.
Ms. Lewis made eye contact with Rose, and the expression was unreadable. Not cold, not angry, simply disconnected.
“Murr,” Ms. Lewis said, and the name was an intonation. “Please.”
Murr unfurled its wings. Black feathered, the wings spread, and the shadows grew deeper, spreading in every direction, as though the light sources were growing smaller. In this perpetual night, the darkness was already thick. Murr made it impenetrable.