During that week, I also received a fair amount of e-mail from the Las Vegas crew. Phoebe, Bastien, Luis, and even Matthias had stayed in touch since my visit, and all seemed to have increased their excitement over my pending move. Messages I would have found so witty and touching a week ago now left a bad taste in my mouth, now that I knew the truth about the transfer. Luis was simply helping to orchestrate Hell’s grand plan to keep me and Seth apart, and I didn’t trust a single word he said. Still, he was a demon, and one could expect a certain amount of insincerity from him. Phoebe and especially Bastien hurt more because they were operating under the pretense of friendship. I didn’t doubt Bastien was still my friend, but everything he sent me seemed forced, since it was coming from the orders of those above him.
Matthias was kind of a mystery. I didn’t know what role he played here, if he was just a convenient mortal they’d found to take me on or if he was in league with Hell. Many humans knowingly were, in the hopes of grandiose rewards someday. For all I knew, he could be an innocent in all this, just an ordinary guy who thought he’d lucked out in finding a dancer. Without being able to say for sure, I took no joy in his e-mails either.
Notably missing from the Las Vegas gang’s correspondence was Jamie. I’d received no friendly “Can’t wait to see you!” messages at all from him, something I suspected was also a direct result of Hell’s orders. They wouldn’t want to risk the topic of Milton again. When I mentioned this to Roman and Hugh, they told me it would be surprising if Jamie was even still in Las Vegas. If Hell saw him as a liability that might inadvertently expose the double-contract snafu, Hugh felt the odds were good they’d simply removed him to prevent me from finding him. If so, I hoped it was simply a matter of a transfer and that the imp hadn’t been punished for drunkenly revealing information he didn’t realize was dangerous.
On New Year’s Eve, Hugh and Roman told me my petition was finished. They presented it to me, a staggeringly huge stack of paper filled with legalese, and showed me where to sign. There was an air of both gravity and pride around them, like they’d just created a painstakingly crafted work of art. Considering how rare this type of event was, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad assessment.
I gave the ream back to Hugh, once I’d signed it about fifteen times. “Now what?” I asked.
“Now I take it to Mei and say you gave it to me to submit to Hell. I also claim ignorance about what this is in regard to, but the fact that it went through me tips her off that there’s a witness to it all. Not that she’d probably ‘lose it’ or anything, but . . . well, with demons, it’s best to be cautious.”
“Are they really going to believe you’re a hapless messenger ?” I asked.
Hugh crooked me a smile and gestured to the paperwork. “Well, they certainly aren’t going to believe you did this on your own. But there’s no real way to prove my involvement, and anyway, I haven’t technically done anything wrong. I’m an imp. I conduct business for Hell. That’s what this is.”
Too many days of pent-up emotion took hold of me, and I flung my arms around Hugh. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
It was all kind of awkward since he was trying to juggle the papers, but he still managed to pat me on the back. “It’s nothing, sweetie,” he said, seeming a bit flustered. “I just hope it actually accomplishes something.”
I stepped back and attempted to get myself under control. “How will we know if it does?”
“When you’re summoned to Hell,” he said.
“Oh.” My heart lurched with fear. “I actually . . . actually have to go there?”
Roman leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “How else do you think this is going to get resolved?”
“I’d kind of just hoped they’d send me a letter,” I said. “You know, like a college acceptance.”
Hugh snorted. “Afraid not. If they respond to it, they’ll summon you to Hell and hold a hearing to examine the contract, your complaints, and whatever evidence either side can muster.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to picture what that hearing would be like. “I’ve never been to Hell. Have either of you?”
They shook their heads, which wasn’t a surprise. Lesser immortals were recruited on Earth, where they then served. We had no reason to visit the realm of our employers, not even an imp like Hugh. Roman, as a nephilim, was on Heaven and Hell’s hit list. Walking into Hell would be like showing up in a lion’s den and presenting yourself on a platter.
“I always kind of pictured Hell as a cross between waiting in line at the DMV and watching a marathon of Perfect Strangers,” remarked Hugh.
Roman shot him a sharp look. “What’s wrong with that show?”
Overcome, I hugged Hugh again and then Roman. “Thanks, you guys. I mean it. I owe you . . . more than I can ever pay back.”
“Just win,” said Roman fiercely. “That’s all the payback I need.”
Hugh put the papers into his briefcase and slipped on his coat. “I’m going to get these over to Mei now, then head off to a party and drink away the memories of wading through all that legalese.”
“You’re going to Peter’s?” I asked. Unsurprisingly, our vampire friend was holding a shindig to ring in the New Year.
“Nah,” said Hugh. “Not much chance of getting laid there. I’m going to a party one of my nurses is hosting.”
We wished him a happy new year and bid him farewell. As soon as he was gone, Roman turned to me. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you going to Peter’s?”
I knew Peter was counting on it, but it was hard to make myself feel like celebrating. “No. I’m not in the mood. Besides, I’m not sure I want to risk running into Jerome since I’m sure Mei’s going to tell him about the appeal. I’ll just keep packing.”
“Come on,” Roman said. “You can’t just sit around tonight. It’s a new year . . . new opportunities. Maybe even the chance to break free of Hell.”
I nodded, though it was still hard for me to imagine what “breaking free” would even look like. It was something we kept talking about, but I really couldn’t feel it yet. And even though I’d talked a good talk to Seth about how the integrity of the soul and eternity were so much more important than any earthly concerns, it all seemed lackluster without him in my life. “I know,” I told Roman. “But any celebrating I do is going to be forced. If I’m going to be unhappy, I’d rather do it in a place where I feel comfortable.”
He glanced at the clock. “Let’s at least go out to dinner. Dress up and get a good meal. Then we’ll come back and watch all the New Year’s shows.”
I didn’t have much of an appetite but suspected if I said no, Roman would consign himself to the same self-imprisonment as me. I didn’t want his night ruined because of me, especially after everything he’d done this week. One problem presented itself.
“It’s almost five,” I said. “We’ll never get in anywhere on such short notice. Unless we want to dress up for Taco Bell. Which I’m actually not averse to.”
Roman was already reaching for his cell phone. “I know someone who’s a chef at this Italian place in Green Lake. We’ll get a table.”
Sure enough. One mysterious phone call, and we were on our way an hour later. I hadn’t been up for elaborate styling and simply shape-shifted myself into New Year’s finery, with an off-the-shoulder satin dress and my hair cascading in perfect waves. Roman had warned me “no black,” so the dress was dark purple, which still seemed appropriate for my mood. I paired it with a glittering necklace of white gold and amethysts that had been my Secret Santa gift to myself. I had great taste.
“Have you made any moves to put your condo on the market?” asked Roman as he drove us through the city. “Contacted a real estate agent?”
I gazed out at the bright lights of the downtown skyline. This time of year, darkness came early. “No. I need to. Unless . . .” I glanced over at him. “Do you want to keep staying there? I’ll keep it and rent if you want.”