Page 13

It’s Technically No t Illegal?

“O kay, I got what I need from you, just give me a couple of hours, and I will have this all sorted,” the friendly man, whose name they were not supposed to know, said as he lowered the digital camera he used to take Rafferty’ s picture.

Shifting his feet, Rafferty rubbed his eyes against the afterburn of the flash.

“You alright?” Helena asked him, stepping b eside him.

“I’ve… never had my picture taken before, ” he said.

She smiled at him. “There are probably going to be a lot of firsts now,” she said. She glanced over at the nameless man who was helping them create a new identity for Rafferty, nibbling nervously at her lower lip.

“What is it?” Rafferty prompted.

“It’s just, I know this is technically not leg al, but…”

“Oh, it’s legal,” the nameless man affirmed. “These documents will be perfectly legit once I process them. Don’t worry. My clients never have any troubles with these, I guarantee it. You said you are French, correct?” He switched to speaking Rafferty’s mother tongue to ask the question.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Rafferty asked i n disgust.

The nameless man nodded. “You have a really good American accent. Props,” he said, and then he returned to the plastic cabinet he had rolled in when he had arrived in Scarlet’s office, opening the different drawers and pulling out the needed documents. “Okay, so work visa and US residence permit. Unless you want to be a naturalized citizen? Oh! Or I can make you a dual French and American citizen. I haven’t done one of t hose yet.”

He eagerly pulled out more documents, then paused. “Do I need a marriage certificate as well?”

He looked between Helena and Rafferty for th at answer.

“Oh, uh. No, not…” Helena glanced at him, but Rafferty didn’t have a better answer than that. “Not just yet.”

“Yeah, okay. No problem. You can always get one later. Or you can just, you know, get married, after I have these documents sorted and legitimized,” the nameless man said and returned his focus to the next steps. He went back to his prep, only to realize a second later that Helena and Rafferty were still standing there staring at him. “You need to go away now while I do this. Go get some lunch. I’ll call you when it ’s ready.”

Helena nodded, taking Rafferty’s hand to lead him out. That was their entire existence right now. Something happening, and she leading him through it. His personal guardian.

He couldn’t believe his luck. If this many good things had happened to him in his first life, he never would have taken Vassago’s original deal. Everything he needed was just happenin g for him.

Out in the main room of the office, Rafferty could see what an amazing place this once had been. He had seen a handful of offices before, but those had been taupe limbos all their own, with little squares to keep the workers in place and isolated. This room was beautiful, with the open workstations separated by vibrant plants instead of fabric-covered walls. A tall glass wall with water cascading down it protected the workers from the view of visitors in the foyer.

But for all the signs of vibrancy in the room, it was half empty of the people that made it an office. So many of the desks were stripped of anything that made them personal and unique. To emphasize the emptiness, about every fourth desk did still have someone sitting at it. Amongst the remaining workers was a tense hush as they poured over job sites on their computers, looking for new employment, or played videos games while waiting for callbacks. They just didn’t seem to realize how lucky they all were. They were alive, safe, and still being supported to do nothing. Like royals or nobility.

Helena nibbled at her lower lip as she regarded them all. Her own desk lived in Scarlet’s office, now forbidden to her while the nameless man worked. The head of the organization had gone to a meeting with her lawyers and the Bureau of Demonic Inve stigation.

“Come on,” Helena said, tugging him again toward a side room. The lights came on automatically as they entered a kitchenette. Like the rest of the office, this room housed hanging plants in the corners and had a large window letting in sunshine from outside. A long, granite counter lined the wall to the right with cabinets above. Two refrigerators sat side by side to the left of the bay window, now unnecessary for so f ew people.

“There should be some leftover food in the fridges. We were bringing in catering every day leading up to the ball,” Helena said as she went to the first ref rigerator.

While she did that, Rafferty went to the counter. A few machines lined the back edge of it including a microwave, a panini press, a toaster oven, an electric griddle, and a standing mixer. Opening one of the upper cabinets he found several bags of bread products, including bagels, and crackers.

“Here, sandwich meat.” Helena set a plastic tray partially covered with folds of sliced meat. From a glance, Rafferty guessed it was the standard turkey, ham, and beef. Still, he slipped the clear plastic cover off and selected one of each, taking a tiny bite per slice.

“They are still good,” he affirmed.

“Well, yeah, it’s only been a couple of days.” Helena returned with another smaller tray, which included several kinds of cheese. At a glance, he recognized Swiss, cheddar jack, and straight cheddar. The other two white cheeses he confirmed as Havarti and provolone after he ta sted them.

“Is there butter?” he asked, a plan forming in his mind. It appeared beside him. He mulled over his options, not satisfied with the simple sandwich he would make out of what was available. Still, his stomach growled with even this much b efore him.

He was hungry. Actual ly hungry!

The excitement of satisfying that hunger took him over. He went to the refrigerator to lo ok inside.

“There is also some lettuce, but the other toppings are a bit picked over and not looking so good anyway,” Helena added from the other fridge, pulling out a very sad-looking plastic plate with a few scraps of wilted lett uce on it.

“Are there eggs?” Rafferty asked, instead of commenting on the pathetic greenery.

“Eggs?” Helena glanced back into her fridge. “No. Why would there be eggs in a n office?”

“I suppose no mil k either?”

“Oh, that we have.” She pulled out a carton, exchanging the greenery plate for it. She popped it open to smell it. On the side, he saw a name written in Sharpie along with the words, “Don’t drink!!!”

Helena passed it to Rafferty who took his own whiff. “Henry doesn’t work here anymore. He left with the fi rst wave.”

“Was he the sort to drink directly from his carton?” Rafferty asked, taking the okay-smelling find to th e counter.

“No, definitely not,” she assured, following him to all his finds. “So what masterpiece are you planning?”

He sighed. “With what is here, something very functional and boring. I’m only just now realizing the limitations of my new e xistence.”

“What do you mean?” Helena slid over one of the chairs so she could sit in it sideways to watch.

“As a demon, any missing ingredients I needed for what I wanted to make, I could simply create from my store of power. Without it, I’m stuck with wha t I have.”

“And you want eggs?” she asked.

“I was thinking of making those savory French Toast sandwiches that you liked so much,” he said, opening another cupboard and finding a hodgepodge of spices and salts. He pulled down a salt shaker and pepper inside a plastic grinder. “I have everyth ing else.”

“Okay, then here you go. One miracle,” Helena said, slapping her hands together.

Energy flowed between them before Rafferty could object, and then there she was, holding a carto n of eggs.

“Oh!” she breathed. “I think I get it. It’s like you use your energy to rewrite one… piece, I guess, of reality.” She held it out to hi m proudly.

“No! You shouldn’t have done that!” Rafferty cried, seizing the eggs from her as if they could hur t her now.

“What? It’s no different than what you used to do,” Helena said, surprised by his reaction.

“That is the point! Everything has a cost! You’re the only one p aying it.”

“But look, I’m fine. I’m alright.” She held out her hands in proof. “I didn’t even break a sweat. It’s just a small thing. It’s just eggs.” Then she thought for a second. “Or are you worried about my intentions? Right? When you make something this way, you imbue it with intention al magic.”

“Don’t call it magic.”

“I just wanted to make you happy. How can that be bad?” She looked up at him with her beautiful, sincerely sweet eyes. She was the same person she had always been, her human appearance and the touch of her hand on his forearm felt so very real and normal that he could forget that she had changed at all. She was just h is Helena.

His resolve melted like butter on the electric griddle. “Okay. I guess, this won’t really hurt anything. And it’s just us eati ng this…”

“Well, actually.” Helena looked at all the ingredients laid out. “Really, we could serve this up to those that remain of my coworkers. It’s a lot of food that’s going to go to waste o therwise.”

His lips thinned at that s uggestion.

Then she batted her eyes at him, p leadingly.

“Fine.”

Her smile bloomed on her face. “I’ll go ask everyone.”

She left the little kitchenette as Rafferty dipped four bread slices into the batter and slapped the batch onto the griddle to a hissing sizzle. Within minutes, more people filed into the room, all sullen and dour. They received their plates of the fresh sandwiches with barely a word of thanks, but Rafferty didn’t mind, he just focused on making up the next batch, enjoying every second. This was what made him f eel alive.

While he worked, drinks were retrieved from the other refrigerator. Condiments were applied as needed.

Soon, the atmosphere of the room shifted. The remaining employees started to talk to each other. Then there were brighter faces accompanied by laughter. The room felt more lik e a party.

People slapped Rafferty on the back, complimenting his work. A couple of them even asked for his recipe. It fed his soul even more than food ever could, but it was a close contest. Helena beamed at him proudly. And all the while, he kept making sandwiches until every egg and slice of bread and meat was gone. The conversations continued. It felt good to just be a part of a group like this, a temporary community. He even got to eat some of his work, and it was as delicious as everyone around him said.

He set his anxieties about her eggs aside. There was no way her intention didn’t get into the food with them, but it seemed to be as she said, she just wanted to make everyone happy. She couldn’t affect their minds, anyone who chose not to be happy would resist the pull of her energies, but they would still feel her call to tha t emotion.

Sometimes a demon can do miracles, he thought as he took another delicious bite, full o f flavors.

Just as the plates were piling into the sink and Helena started the water before he could think to, the door to the kitchenette opened and the chatter in the room went silent as if a switch had been flipped. It was so jarring as Scarlet entered the room she jerked to a stop as the wall of eyes focus ed on her.

“O h. Hello.”