“That’s your plan? Slow exposure therapy?”
“It’s a work in progress.” He adjusted his tie. “Speaking of which, Morrison prep. You should probably finish that.”
“Changing the subject?”
“Desperately.”
He fled back to his desk.
The Morrison depositionstarted badly and got worse.
Morrison’s human form was a middle-aged man in an expensive suit, silver hair swept back, smile too wide for his face. But his eyes gave him away, vertical pupils that caught the fluorescent light and reflected it back yellow.
“Ms. Feng.” He didn’t stand when she entered. “I expected Victor.”
“Mr. Morningstar sends his regards.” She set her files on the conference table. Derek slipped in behind her, taking the corner seat with the court reporter. “Shall we begin?”
“I don’t deal with juniors.”
“Then you don’t deal today.” She opened her folder. “I have your contract with Pemberton Holdings. Section twelve, subsection C. You agreed to provide ‘consulting services of a supernatural nature.’ Care to define that for the record?”
Morrison’s smile flickered. “You’re very confident for someone so… fragile.”
“I’m very prepared.” She slid a document across the table. “This is your amended filing from March. You claimed the consulting was purely advisory. But we have testimony from three witnesses that you manifested in your true form during a board meeting.”
“They were being difficult.”
“They were your clients.”
His form rippled. Just for a second, scales flickering beneath skin, limbs folding in on themselves, before settling back to human.
“No shifting during depositions,” Ava said firmly. “Section 236 of the Supernatural Legal Ethics Code.”
“You can’t?—”
“I can. I am.” She met his yellow eyes without flinching. “Resume human form and keep it, or I’ll file a motion for contempt. Your choice.”
Morrison’s jaw worked. The rippling stopped.
“You’re new,” he said finally. “How do you know that code?”
“I’m good at my job.”
The rest of the deposition was almost anticlimactic. Morrison answered her questions with sullen precision, his form staying firmly human. By the time they finished, it was past eight. The office hummed with Friday night emptiness.
Derek waited until they were in the elevator to punch the air.
“That was incredible! Did you see his face when you cited section 236? He looked like he wanted to eat you!”
“He probably did.”
“But you didn’t even blink! You just—” Derek made an explosion gesture. “Boom. Lawyered.”
“Please never say ‘lawyered’ again.”
“No promises.”
“Pizza?” Derek suggested.
