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Chapter 39

"Good afternoon, Ms. Samuels," the lawyer said, and shook Rhea's hand. Rhea shook back with a little more strength than strictly necessary. "Ms. Stillwater sends her regards," he continued, wincing slightly. Caldwell, Markham and Stillwater were an old Raleigh firm—solid, but not to the point of ossification. After the Unchaining, when other firms were fleeing across the border, they stood fast, and eventually forged in court many of the unique features that came to distinguish North Carolina jurisprudence. They had never tried to cheat her, and while they billed their time at exorbitant rates, the accounting was full and accurate. In short, for lawyers, they weren't bad guys, and while Rhea fully expected to see most if not all of them in Hell at some point, she fancied they might take on the occasional pro bono case there.

"Thank you, Mr. Markham." She smiled her professional smile, which didn't have the warmth of either her personal or her let-me-sell-you-something smiles. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice. Won't you have a seat?" She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

Markham sat. "You indicated you wanted to discuss a matter of some urgency?" He opened his briefcase, took out an old-fashioned yellow legal pad, and laid it on his knee.

"Yes. I do." She leaned forward across her desk. "First, I want to make clear that the social part of your visit is over, and that everything hereafter is covered under lawyer/client confidentiality. Agreed?"

"Of course, Ms. Samuels." Markham raised an eyebrow and made a point of sounding slightly insulted. He tapped his fountain pen on his pad. "That goes without saying."

"Today, nothing goes without saying." Rhea sat back again. "You are familiar with the ownership structure of Celestial?" she asked.

"Certainly. Ms. Stillwater briefed me thoroughly before I took on her client load. I have copies of your incorporation papers right here." He patted his briefcase. "Celestial Technologies is capitalized from a variety of sources, but sole proprietorship resides with you."

"Exactly," Rhea said. "Unfortunately, I may not be around indefinitely, and I want to make very sure today that I control what happens to Celestial in that case. I don't want my company ending up split between those investors, or worse yet, trading publicly."

Markham looked at her closely. "Are you unwell?" he asked. "Are we talking a 'death of the principal' situation?"

"Never felt better," Rhea told him, realizing in surprise that it was the truth. She considered for a second. "The situation that I'm facing is . . . considerably worse than death." She studied the lawyer, trying to decide if the plaque on his coronary arteries had already hardened to the point where he would keel over dead with what she was about to do next. She decided that, like most tough bastards, he'd do just fine. "We need to discuss some matters about my . . . personal life . . . that could have an effect on shortening my future, and threatening the future of Celestial."

"Ms. Samuels, have you been withholding information from us?" He sounded slightly exasperated, but resigned. "You'd be surprised how many people do. We cannot provide you full and effective representation and advice unless we have all the facts."

"Be careful what you ask for," Rhea said softly, and dropped her human manifestation.

Markham started. His pen point snapped beneath the weight of his whitening knuckles, and ink flowed in a steady blue stream across his pad and onto his pants. He didn't seem to notice; he was unable to take his eyes off Rhea. "Good God," he whispered.

"That's a matter of opinion." Rhea stretched her wings and watched the dark illumination of her aura crackle around her. She felt odd being in her true form again. She could feel the power of Hell coursing through her veins once more, closer and stronger than her human form could ever handle. But this body didn't feel like her anymore. It was as though Averial had become the disguise, and Rhea the real person. She smiled ruefully. Would that it were so . . .

Markham flinched at the sight of her smile, and she remembered the terrible, malignant beauty she presented as one of the Fallen. She resumed her human form.

"Ms. Samuels, per-perhaps you need another law firm," Markham finally managed to sputter. His face was white, his lips were tinged with blue, and he looked a lot closer to that coronary than Rhea would have suspected.

Rhea leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "Wrong answer," she said. "We have a contract, Mr. Markham. Legally binding to both you and me, drawn up with every line checked and approved by me . . . and I guarantee you I have much more experience than you do in looking at contracts . . . and dealing with people who break them." She got up and poured him a cold glass of water from the suite refrigerator.

He stared up at her, wild-eyed. He would have made a lousy trial lawyer, she decided. He let things shake him visibly. He wasn't a good actor. He took the water with a trembling hand and drank it in one gulp. After a moment in which he tried to pull himself together, he managed to say, "You're immortal, so we're not talking a death of principal scenario here. What . . . what are we talking about?"

Rhea stood by the window and looked out. "There are people looking for me," she said. "When they find me, there is a small but non-zero chance that I won't be able to fight them off. I think I can deal with them . . . but perhaps not. If they get hold of me, from a legal standpoint I might as well be dead. I won't be on Earth anymore. They might be able to force me back into working for . . . well. I might end up back here as someone else's puppet, forced to attempt to work against everything I've built. I need to make sure my company can deal with that, can withstand that."

Markham wasn't getting it. She needed him to focus on her legal problem and he was still bug-eyed over her physical problem. "There are people who can push a fallen angel around?"

Rhea sighed. "Count on it," she said.

 

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Framed