“Complications,” Victor repeated carefully.
“You’re soul-bonded to a first-year associate, Victor. Regardless of how the bond occurred, it raises questions aboutobjectivity, supervision, and professional boundaries.” Malphas pulled two thick packets from a drawer and slid them across the desk. “You’ll need to file updated disclosure forms. HR has additional documentation. Emergency contacts, conflict of interest declarations, the standard soul-bond addendum to your employment contracts.”
“There’s a standard soul-bond addendum?” Ava asked.
“We’re a thorough firm.” Was that amusement in his voice? Hard to tell with no lips. “And Ms. Feng, you’re no longer eligible to work on any case Victor supervises directly. Conflict of interest. You’ll be reassigned to other partners’ portfolios.”
“That’s it?” The words escaped before she could stop them. “Paperwork and reassignment?”
Malphas’s empty eye sockets fixed on her with unsettling precision. “What were you expecting, Ms. Feng?”
“Termination. Being thrown into an actual hell dimension. Something worse than… HR forms.”
“This is a law firm. We solve problems with paperwork, even supernatural problems.” He steepled his too-long fingers, joints clicking softly. “The situation is unusual, I’ll grant you. It raises questions we’ll need to address over time. But it’s not grounds for dismissal. Soul bonds, while rare, are recognized under diabolical law. You have rights. The firm has obligations.” A pause that stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable. “We’ve had stranger arrangements.”
“Stranger than soul-bonding with your boss?” Victor’s voice was carefully neutral.
“Beleth once courted a client’s ghost for six months. The jurisdictional issues alone took a year to untangle.” Malphas gestured to the door, the movement too fluid for human joints. “Fill out the forms. Return them by end of day. And Ms. Feng…”
She paused at the door, Victor’s hand warm on her back.
“Congratulations.” The word sounded strange in Malphas’s papery voice. “In four centuries, I’ve never seen Victor look at anyone the way he looks at you. It’s rather nauseating, actually. But also…” He seemed to search for the word. “Reassuring. That such things remain possible.”
The door closed behind them.
“Did Malphas just compliment us?” Ava whispered in the hallway, still processing.
“I believe so.” Victor sounded equally baffled. “And made a joke. I didn’t know he could do that.”
“Maybe Hell is freezing over.”
“Too late. We just got back from the Hamptons.”
Conference Room Threehad become Derek’s war room.
He’d claimed the head of the table and surrounded himself with coffee cups, energy drinks, and the remains of what looked like three different pastries. His tablet displayed multiple windows of what appeared to be a gossip tracking spreadsheet. His tie had been loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his expression suggested he’d been stress-researching for the entire weekend.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded the moment they entered. “And I mean everything. Start from when you left the ballroom. No, start from before that. The dodgeball. Was Lilith really hit in the face by her own ball? Because there are conflicting accounts and I need to know the truth.”
Ava sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. “Yes. She threw at me after the game was called, I ducked, the ball bounced off the wall and hit her in the face. It was…” She allowed herself a small smile. “Magnificent.”
“I knew it. Marcus from accounting said it was staged but I knew it.” Derek typed something furiously on his tablet. “Okay, continue. After the dodgeball victory. What happened that night?”
Victor closed the door and engaged the privacy wards. The air shimmered briefly, that subtle wrongness that meant they couldn’t be overheard. “The short version: the partners recognized the bond as valid. Lilith objected. She was overruled. She left. We’re legal.”
“And the long version?”
“Is complicated and personal.”
“That’s not fair. I spent the entire weekend monitoring firm communications and fielding questions from people who wanted to know if you’d been devoured by hell-beasts.”
“We appreciate your concern,” Ava said. “But some things are just… ours.”
Derek deflated slightly. Then rallied. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But at least tell me this: the bond. It’s permanent?”
“Yes.”
“Like, permanent permanent? No take-backs, no annulment, no supernatural divorce court?”
