The Devil and Dan Cooley

by Holly Lisle

  The devil nodded and shuffled toward the door. Dan noticed his unshod clawed feet—definitely not in keeping with the rest of his look—and sighed. "Shoe store first." He'd keep the receipt and pay for the shoes out of his own pocket.

  Halfway down the stairs he remembered the imp. "Wait. We've got to go back."

  "Why?"

  "Fetch is in the apartment."

  "I know. It's still cleaning." Puck grinned, and this time Dan was certain his fangs really were a little smaller. "Don't worry. I told it to scrub the place down, then crawl into the tub until we got back. It won't hurt anything, I swear. Anyway, you don't want it around your sponsors. If it gets excited, no leg is safe. Understand what I'm saying?"

  "Oh. Yuck." Terrific, Dan thought. Either he trusted the imp alone in his apartment for the day or he risked ruining the entire Makeover project because it had a penchant for the shin shimmy. His mom always said if no choice was good, to take the lesser of two evils.

  Or leave the lesser of two devils.

  Or something like that.

  "We'll leave it."

  "Good. Don't worry! You won't recognize the place when we get back."

  Probably not, Dan thought. Probably not.

  Chapter 17

  "How do you do Mr.—would Puck be your first or last name?"

  "Only."

  "Mr. Puck. I'm Samuel Offing, owner of Reginald Court Menswear." He held out a hand and the devil, somewhat hesitantly, shook it. "We have the finest men's garments in Raleigh. Historically we have relied on word-of-mouth for our advertising, but recent changes in statewide demographics have required us to be a bit more flexible in our approach."

  "He just said all the rich people moved out of state," Puck said to Dan in a stage whisper that Dan was certain Offing couldn't have missed.

  Offing's laugh sounded false in Dan's ears. "Precisely."

  Dan said, "I understood what he was saying without the translation."

  "Sorry."

  Offing said, "Please don't worry about it. I understand that Mr. Puck is still... ah... rough around the edges. But I also understand your campaign, Mr. Cooley. I think you have a wonderful idea, and I'd like to help. However, I will expect a significant return on my investment."

  Dan nodded and got out one of the station's advertising contracts. "What were you thinking of?"

  "First let me tell you what I can do for you. In addition to paying your regular advertising rate for spots, I'll supply a complete wardrobe for Mr. Puck here. Suits, sports clothing, undergarments, appropriate footwear, neckties, hats if he needs them... all tailored to emphasize his good points." Offing paused a minute to study Puck. Dan figured he was trying to come up with a good point or two to use as examples. He frowned, shrugged and said, "Or at least deemphasize the worst of his bad points."

  "When can you have it for him?"

  "I assume you have a full schedule today. If he comes in tomorrow morning, though, early, we'll fit him. I can have some of the wardrobe tomorrow—sportswear won't take much work on our part. The suits I can have in the next several days."

  Dan nodded. "That's quite generous. A regular advertising campaign wouldn't cost you as much as a wardrobe of these clothes."

  "No. It wouldn't. But I don't want a regular advertising campaign. In exchange for my investment, I want exclusivity. No other clothier, no other clothing advertised in relation to Mr. Puck."

  Dan figured out amounts involved, and said, "We'll need a guaranteed number of thirty-second spots per week for the length of the Great Devil Makeover campaign to guarantee exclusivity."

  "I'll have my assistant work out the contract details with you. I'll sign your contract after I've had a chance to speak with Mr. Puck."

  Dan's eyebrows went up. "Why—"

  Offing cut him off. "You say you have a devil who's willing to try to change his ways. Before I risk any of my money, which is increasingly hard to come by, I want to feel that there's some chance of his success."

  "I'll talk to him," Puck said.

  "Fine." Dan shrugged, not really certain that he should turn the devil loose with Offing, but not sure what else he could do. So he went off with the assistant and got the man to agree to an exorbitant amount of advertising.

  Offing and Puck, meanwhile, went into the back room.

  When they came out, nearly forty-five minutes later, Offing wore a smile Dan could have spotted from across town. He got ready to discuss the contract, but Offing just signed it and said, "Have him in here tomorrow."

  Dan glanced at Puck, wondering what the devil had said to so completely reassure the man, then gave him a hard second look. Puck's scales were smaller and finer, and his features seemed a little bit more sculptured... a little less like afterthoughts. And he couldn't be sure, but he thought perhaps the claws had become slightly less sharp.

  Contract in hand and fitting appointment made, he walked Puck out to the car in silence. Only once they were on the road did he ask.

  "What happened in there?"

  Puck leaned back in the seat and stared at the road ahead. "His only son died in a car accident last year. Ugly circumstances. He wanted to know if he'd... ah."

  "Gone to Hell?"

  "Yes."

  "How could you help him? I thought you said you didn't work in Personnel," Dan said.

  "That's right."

  "Then how could you know his son isn't in Hell?"

  "He had a computer. I'm out of the loop, but I still know the ropes, if you know what I mean."

  "Computer?"

  "Yes. If you know what you're doing, you can extract data from the HellWire Info Net."

  "And what did you find out?"

  "That his son wasn't a bad kid. He didn't sign on with us."

  "You look different."

  "I feel different. I helped him, you know. And I didn't do it to make him buy your station advertising or because I was going to get a bunch of clothes out of him. I did it because... because..." Puck fell silent.

  "Why?"

  "I don't know why."

  "That's okay. Sooner or later, you'll figure it out."

  Chapter 18

  Meg slipped off her shoe and thumped a cockroach as it scuttled behind her desk. Then she slipped the flat back on and went through the morning's mail. Bill. Bill. Late check from a client. Letter from a client explaining why check was not enclosed. Bill. Junk.

  The phone rang.

  "Lerner Family Consulting, may I help you?"

  "Meg, it's Ed."

  "Hi, Uncle Ed. What's up?"

  "I have some news for you."

  "Good or bad?"

  "Good."

  "Then I'll keep you. What's your news?"

  "I have your investment group."

  "Really? That's outstanding! May I ask whom?"

  "Some of my clients at the bank are willing to put together the money to fund a consortium, if you and your devil can come up with the right project."

  "How much are they willing to go?"

  "We're currently liquid for eight million dollars, and—again for the right project—we can go higher. Here's the stipulation. We're not looking for a long-term investment, but something with a quick turnover. Do you have any idea when you can have a proposal for us?"

  Meg remembered the law office where she'd worked while she was getting her degree, and the lawyer who got a call asking if he had any knowledge of publishing law. He'd said yes and set up an appointment for the next day. Meg waited until he was off the phone, then said, "You don't know anything about publishing law."

  He said, "I will by tomorrow morning. Expediency rules, Meg. Always take the client. Spend the night studying case law if you must, but always take the client."

  She didn't agree with him at the time, but now she found herself thinking, Expediency rules. "I'll have it as soon as you're ready to see it. I'm booked today and I have court tomorrow, but if I can set up a meeting with everyone the day after that, I'll put the proposal on the table for you."
>
  "That will be fine. Oh, by the way, I ran into Frances Lederman on the golf course this morning. She wanted to know if there was any chance you'd changed your mind?"

  "About the partnership offer? No, I haven't. Corporate stuff just isn't my area of interest. There aren't enough family lawyers with fees real people can afford, so I'm going to stick with my private practice. If I find myself prowling the pet food aisle at the grocery store, I might reconsider. Till then, I'm going to tough it out."

  She said her good-byes, then checked her calendar. Bainbridge for a divorce consultation at ten-thirty. Lackland to discuss getting an increase in child support at noon. Simkins at three to work out the last details of a separation agreement. And dinner with Dan and the devil at seven.

  Plenty of time in between to work on the legal brief for the class-action antidiscrimination suit. And to figure out some sort of business the Hellraised could do that would be an attractive short-term investment for her uncle's group.

  Chapter 19

  Dan led the devil into Irregardless on West Morgan Street a few minutes before seven.

  "I'd say that went well," Puck said.

  "I'd say the whole day went extraordinarily well." When they were seated at a comfortable booth at the back, Dan studied his menu. "Try the Bean Burger," he told the devil. "It's fabulous." He ordered a margarita while he waited for Meg; the devil drank scotch, neat.

  Dan put his menu aside. He didn't want to order food until Meg got there. "It was so strange that almost all of them wanted to talk with you first, though."

  "Not really. Almost everyone knows someone he cares about who didn't live an exemplary life. Almost everyone would like to know that friend or family member wasn't damned."

  Puck had changed remarkably during the day. His manner of speech was gentler. His facial expressions lacked the air of Hellish viciousness they'd had when Dan first found him. And physically he'd become different, too. His copper scales, initially so large and coarse and sharp-edged, now were as small as goldfish scales, and surprisingly attractive.

  This wasn't to say that Puck was any thing of beauty. Even though his horns and fangs had shrunk and his talons had rounded and flattened, his square-pupiled, goatish eyes still glowed with unmistakable Hellfire. And that face was never going to be anything but ugly.

  Dan caught a flash of movement from his right and saw Meg following the waiter toward them. Meg was still dressed in work clothes—a linen suit, sensible shoes, and her briefcase.

  She smiled at Dan and gave Puck a frankly curious stare as she joined them.

  When the routines of introductions and ordering were out of the way, she turned to Dan. "I have several things to discuss with the two of you. I don't know much about your devil here, nor do I have any real idea of how likely his... rehabilitation... is going to be. None of that matters at the moment. Puck, I've spent much of my day on the phone with some of my colleagues at the ACLU. I did the preliminary work on the initiation of a class action antidiscrimination suit designed to force legislation mandating equal employment and housing opportunities for the Hellraised."

  "She's talking about equal rights for devils," Puck said to Dan.

  "I know what she's talking about. Shut up, already."

  Meg glanced from the devil to Dan, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. "But I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Puck here used to be the guy in charge of translating clearly worded communications into High Bureaucratese. He's taken delight all day in translating bureaucratic babble-speak back into English for me, whether I needed it or not."

  Meg said, "I thought my way of phrasing things was clear and to the point."

  Dan kissed her. "I know, gorgeous. And that little touch of the delusional is part of your charm."

  Meg laughed. "Fine. Let me tell you where I am in my... my quest for equal rights for the Hellraised. Was that clear enough?"

  Dan nodded. So did Puck, who grinned when he did it.

  Meg filled both of them in on her reasoning behind the need for such a class action suit, and finished with a shrug. "I don't have the manpower or the time to do this right. But a couple of old friends of mine who are still with the ACLU are going to take my preliminary work and build a case around it. If." She paused.

  Dan watched Puck, who had been looking amused by the whole idea of human lawyers fighting for his sort.

  Puck raised one scaly eyeridge and said, "If?"

  "If you can convince your... your what? Associates? Friends?"

  "Fellow damnedsouls," Puck suggested.

  Meg pursed her lips. "Fellow damnedsouls. If you can persuade them to go into the offices of the ACLU around the state and make public statements about their grievances. The jobs they've tried to get, the housing they've been turned away from, the sorts of abuses that they've had to suffer."

  Puck tipped his head to one side and thought about it for a moment. "I'm not actually on speaking terms with any of the other Hellraised at the moment. However, I imagine I could find a way to get in touch with a few who wouldn't hurt me too much—and they could pass the information on."

  "Fine." Meg opened her briefcase, took several sheets of paper out of it, and passed them across to Puck. "Addresses of the offices statewide."

  Puck smirked. "We knew where they were."

  "Tine." Meg didn't react to the smirk or the implication. Instead, she said, "The good news is, a successful suit will make life here easier for everyone, I think. The bad news is, it's a long-term project. In the meantime, we need to do something for your people now, before they have equal rights. And since I think it's likely that very few people will hire the Hellraised as things stand, I think we need to find a way for the Hellraised to employ themselves."

  Puck nodded. "The higher-ups are pretty well taken care of in that regard. They have Satco—but unfortunately for most of the lower-echelon Hellspawn, Satco doesn't employ all of us. I don't think any company can claim to gainfully employ one hundred percent of an entire ethnic population in a state."

  Dan snorted. "That does sound unlikely."

  Meg said, "So what I need to know, Puck, is this: does anyone in your organization have any ideas for self-starting employment?"

  Puck thought for a while. Dinner arrived while he sat there with his eyes tightly shut, his face screwed into an expression of extreme concentration. He didn't even notice the food.

  Neither Dan nor Meg said anything. They waited, silently eating their Bean Burgers and Caesar salads.

  Suddenly Puck's eyes opened. "I remember something. But it's something really, really big. It's not like vegetable stands or anything. Before his—disappearance—the first head of Satco, Agonostis, made plans for a big amusement park kind of thing, called Devil's Point. He intended it to be a place where Hellraised could operate a legitimate business. It would have been huge! Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of us would have been required to run it." Puck briefly outlined what he recalled about the amusement park, and Dan found himself becoming interested.

  "Could the Hellraised really do that—bring back extinct animals and showcase them in their natural habitats from the times when they lived?"

  "I couldn't have, even when I had my powers, but the fallen angels could. That comes under the heading of a 'benign miracle'—as long as the dinosaurs and whatnot can't do any harm—and the Fallen can do any sort of benign miracle they like." Puck shook his head. "That park was a possibility once, but it isn't going to happen now."

  "It sounds like it would work," Meg said. "What went wrong?"

  "A couple of things. Scumslag, the new guy in charge of Satco, didn't come up with the plans, so rumor has it that he's dragging his heels in trying to implement them. That's the first problem, and for all I know, the scuttlebutt may have been wrong. I wasn't all that high on the food chain even before they kicked me out."

  Meg shrugged, "That sounds like typical bureaucratic stupidity to me. I've known people who've deep-sixed terrific ideas because they
couldn't take credit for them. So we'll assume for the time being that what you heard is right. We may face some resistance from the CEO of Satco. What else?"

  "The Hellraised can't get the land. I know right after our management turnover, the devils who were on the team said they'd found the ideal site for the amusement park, but nobody will sell property on that scale to the Hellraised. I guess that kind of thing happens when your company gets a bad reputation for sticky contracts. The funny thing is, people are desperate to sell their property to get out of the state, but they still won't sell to my kind."

  An idea occurred to Meg. "Where's the property?"

  Puck said, "Down by the beach somewhere. I wasn't on the Devil's Point development team, so I really don't know."

  "Can you hook me up with someone who does?"

  "I know someone who does. The problem is that she won't have anything to do with me. I'm poison for anybody's career right now."

  "Could you tell me how to reach her?"

  "Sure. Just don't tell her how you got her number." He gave Meg a phone number. "Her name is Glopsmear. Tell her you're calling in regards to Devil's Point."

  Meg started to tuck the number into her briefcase.

  Puck said, "Wait. Aren't you going to call her?"

  "Right now?"

  "Satco doesn't have to worry about paying overtime or things like that, and it doesn't pay any attention to the regulations for an eight- or twelve-hour day. Jobs there are twenty-four hours a day."

  Meg looked at what remained of her burger, and Dan saw a flicker of regret that she wasn't going to be able to finish it while it was hot. Dan empathized—the food was some of the best he'd ever had. But she shrugged and bit the bullet. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

  When she was gone, Dan said, "You could have at least waited until after she finished dessert to tell her that."

  "I got the impression time was of some importance to her." He took a huge bite of his Bean Burger.

  Suddenly Dan realized that Puck had said he couldn't eat vegetable matter.

  Incredible how fast he's changing, he thought.