by R. J. Blain
I had questions, but I suspected until I signed a lot of paperwork, I’d get no answers. “Dr. Lakset said this would be a paid internship. What can you tell me about the offer?”
“Well, I can tell you that Lucifer is going to scrap the entire offer he put together upon meeting you, and he’ll come back with something else, probably in the morning.”
I referred to his schedule for the day, which had given him time specifically to meet me. Someone had labeled me as Intern Supreme, a title I found to be amusing. “Who made this label?”
“He did. He has a twisted sense of humor. Do yourself a favor. Think about what nickname you would like, make sure it sounds all right with ‘my little’ prefacing it, and come to terms with that becoming part of your life. He’ll use your name some of the time, but when he wants attention, he will use your nickname to annoy you.”
“I’m adding twenty thousand to the bill if I have to put up with that.”
“Trust me, make it yearly, demand a salary, and get every benefit you can worm out of him. Before I leave, I’ll set up a tablet for your use, hook you up with an email address, and email you with research information you can go over along with your test results. The meter is taking its sweet time going through your results, so it might be a while before I have something useful for you. The tablet has a cellular plan, so if your phone isn’t sufficient, you can use the tablet to make calls and use the internet.”
“I have the phone somebody got for me.” I could only presume the phone had come from Lucifer.
I had not expected the Devil to be the kind to give somebody a phone without pestering the recipient for everything he needed.
“It’s a piece of shit, but Lucifer had it and he wanted you to have access to a phone immediately, so we’ll replace it with something better. Once you’re out of the hospital, I’ll take you to a store to pick a phone you like.” Diana rummaged through the briefcase, pulling out several papers, which she tucked under her arm. “I’ll leave this with you. The initial agreement is in here, so you can review it. My number is also in here, so call me with any questions. If you’re ready to sign based on that, give me a ring, and I’ll make sure the new version Lucifer has drawn up exceeds that, and I’ll send someone over so you can review and sign. I’m going to make sure those two don’t wreck the entire hospital, as neither have any self-restraint this week.”
At a lack of anything else to say, I replied, “Thank you, Diana.”
“You’re welcome. Rest as much as you can, and try not to worry too much over this. Despite appearances, Lucifer is a good employer. He’s just a little crazy sometimes.”
“A little? Sometimes?”
Diana laughed. “At least it’s a good crazy.”
“If you say so.”
Four
The Devil, as always, was in the details.
Several hours after the Devil and his entourage left, the nurses came armed with fresh bags of blood and a determination to get me out of their hospital sooner than later. As I couldn’t do much during the four hours it took to pump the new blood into me, I made use of my free hand to go over the internship documents Diana had left with me. At first glance, the paperwork promised a good future, one where I’d exit the internship with my JD and any additional education I might desire along with an opportunity to continue working for my hellish client.
The Devil, as always, was in the details. Travel expenses would be paid through a credit or debit card issued in my name drawing from his accounts, all future medical bills would be paid along with lodging, travel expenses, any technology I needed to complete my work, and business-appropriate attire would be provided. To cap it all off, I’d be paid thirty dollars an hour, which fell in line with what an entry-level attorney would make with a firm.
The entry-level attorneys also needed to worry about paying their rent, buying clothes, and the million other little things that chipped away at a paycheck and left little behind in their wake.
I could work with thirty an hour with a chunk going to taxes and the rest paying off the debt the Devil wasn’t covering.
Living debt-free and able to give back to my parents counted as my top priority, and I’d save the fancy new car, a gaming computer, and all the little things that made life fun for after I covered the things that mattered most to me.
However, following Diana’s suggestion I should take the Devil for all he was worth, I planned to request forty an hour, justifying it through taking away from my schooling time, a minimum requirement to get a master’s degree in something, which would be negotiable, the option to pursue a doctorate if desired, and the Devil had to provide the vehicle if I needed to have one, otherwise all transportation would be his problem, along with his other baseline offerings.
Then, as I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life working, I requested three weeks of vacation a year with future increases of vacation time to be negotiated but mandatory, depending on how long I stayed in the Devil’s employ.
Three hours into the transfusion, Marie came in armed with x-rays, her clipboard, and her tablet. “How are you feeling, Sandra?”
“Hey, doc.” Careful to keep my left arm still so I wouldn’t inflict unnecessary discomfort on myself, I waved the internship offer at her. “I’m not doing too bad. How about you?”
“Not too bad myself. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
Damn it. Did I really need more bad news? “Hit me with the bad stuff, and if it’s that bad, please spike my IV line with some vodka.”
“You aren’t old enough to drink yet. Come back in after you’re twenty-one and try again,” she teased.
Interesting. The bad news couldn’t be that bad if Marie was up for cracking jokes. “Can that be my bad news for today?”
“Your bad news is that we’ll be evaluating if you can be discharged the day after tomorrow, which means you get to undergo even more tests. You dislike several of the tests.”
I disliked most of the tests the hospital kept inflicting on me, which didn’t count as bad news in my book. “What’s the bad news, then? Potential discharge is never bad news, doc.”
“The bad news is, assuming your blood pressure stabilizes and your virus levels are acceptable, you will be expected to venture into the wilds of humanity in an effort to contract illnesses, and you’ll have to return for appointments to do more tests. Those tests are covered as part of your treatments, along with any other care you require as a result of your early release.”
“I’m failing to see how this is bad news.”
“We’re expecting you to become very ill and have to be hospitalized again.”
I considered that, and I nodded. “That could be bad news. If that’s the bad news, what’s the good news?”
“According to your latest blood tests and scans, the lycanthropy virus has restored basic function to your liver and your kidneys. If your numbers continue to improve, you won’t need to undergo dialysis. The bone scans are also showing improvement.” She showed me a pair of x-rays. I recognized the one as my pre-treatment scan, which showed the cancer having done a good job of eating away at my bones. The second x-ray may as well have belonged to somebody else. “We’ve determined your pain levels were tied to the lycanthropy virus attacking and rebuilding your bones.”
“Wait. The virus attacked my bones?”
“It appears the virus viewed a layer of cells bordering all cancer sites as cancer, eliminating them before encouraging the body to restore them. What we know of the virus implies the incubation period before shapeshifting to be the virus preparing the body to handle the shifting process, which breaks down and rebuilds cells from the ground up, using magic to account for any differences in base body mass. We’re still not sure how that works, but the CDC suspects that the virus uses base caloric energy from its host to convert into mass. Those who have small animals often have higher caloric intake needs post shifting. Anyway, we suspect that was the primary source of your pain. Your pain levels w
ill gradually improve, but it could be a process taking several months. The virus has a lot of work left to do. That leads to the more neutral news.”
“I’m going to have to keep getting transfusions from the donor?” I guessed.
“This is a distinct possibility. The amount of blood you’ve required for the treatments isn’t going to make this widely available for most. There just aren’t enough willing lycanthrope donors.”
“But it’s possible, which means it can be studied.”
“Yes. You’ve proven the theory is plausible. If you were to have a mate, it’s possible the virus would be able to sustain itself throughout the treatments. Essentially, your mate’s virus would work with yours to boost it while you heal. Honestly, this method of treating cancer is something that could, potentially, become viable for those who are willing to take a mate, as their new mate would be a willing donor. If their blood types don’t initially match, the virus can be extracted and donated, although it’s less efficient until the woman’s blood type changes to match her man’s.”
“Wait. Until the woman’s blood type changes? Is it always the woman’s blood type?”
“Yes. The virus always seems to adapt the woman’s blood type. We suspect it has to do with the human reproductive cycle. It’s currently believed the virus works with the woman’s menstrual cycle to eject the old blood type during the blood conversion process. Since men don’t menstruate, it would be more challenging for the virus to do the work. Something about the virus’s magic keeps incompatible blood types from causing death, although those in the medical profession are unwilling to attempt non-matching blood type transfusions.”
“Essentially, lycanthropy is the cure for cancer.”
“There are no known cases of a post-shift lycanthrope having cancer. The virus does need to be matured or given in a high enough quantity before it is able to combat cancer. This treatment wouldn’t work through natural lycanthropy infection. You would die from the cancer long before the virus was able to help you. That puts us back to step one in terms of cancer research, although we might be able to help others in similar shoes to yours if they’re willing to take the risks.”
I nodded, wondering how long I would’ve lived if I’d been prejudiced against lycanthropes. Many feared the virus—or, more accurately, they feared the restrictions the infection brought along with a lengthened lifespan. For some, freedom trumped all else. I wanted to live, and coping with the restrictions bothered me a great deal less than looking down the barrel of terminal cancer.
“The really good news is that you’re improving much faster than we anticipated, even considering how much infected blood you’ve received. So, try to bear with it a little longer. Tomorrow, we’ll conduct some tests in the morning and the evening, but you can have visitors starting at ten until the end of hours. I spoke with your doctors, and they approved you having whatever food you want brought in if you’d like, but make sure you have at least five thousand calories. You need to feed the virus and yourself.”
“Five thousand?” I blurted.
“I know it’ll be a challenge, but view it as an opportunity to binge on whatever you want. Your virus has established itself enough you should be digesting faster than you’re used to.” Marie set both of the x-rays on the table near my bed along with her tablet. “Try to walk around if you can to start rebuilding your strength. The tablet has your complete medical record on it, and I’ve been instructed to give you an opportunity to review everything. There is an explanation of all results, in layman terms, with the records. If you have any questions, ring for a nurse, and someone will help explain things to you.”
“Thanks, doc.”
Marie smiled and headed for the door. “I’m glad to help, and it’s nice when we get a chance to beat the odds. It’s rare.”
To make my doctors and nurses happy, I walked as far as I absolutely could, which was roughly fifty feet. Then, after catching my breath and drinking a protein shake, I aimed for fifty-one feet. As I still needed special drugs and counted as fragile, a nurse kept me company the entire time, and her praise fueled my determination almost as much as my desire to leave the hospital. I occupied myself for three hours, reaching sixty-three feet before I surrendered to my general exhaustion and returned to my room to review the internship offer one more time.
I debated between calling Diana or emailing her, and I determined I was so starved for conversation with someone who wasn’t a doctor or nurse I’d make use of her invitation to bother her.
On the third ring, she answered, “Good evening, Sandra. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, actually. I might get discharged the day after tomorrow, although I’m under the impression I’ll be back in the body shop due to illness in a hurry. My marching orders are to go expose myself to sick people. I find this to be a little strange, as I’m in a place where sick people go to get better, but I’m guessing they don’t want me to infect the sick people trying to get better. Not with lycanthropy, but with whatever germs I’m supposed to be contracting in the wild. I have a counter offer I wanted to pitch to you.”
“Let me grab a notepad and a pen,” she replied, and a few moments later, I heard the slap of papers hitting a hard surface. “Whatever your salary counter was, add at least twenty-five percent. I’ve been reminded women are expected to be happy with the offers they receive. I’m guilty of this. My fiancé spent an hour earlier proving he was right, and the bastard enjoyed it.”
In the background, someone laughed.
Upon evaluating my notes, I decided her fiancé was onto something. “Okay. I’m taking that advice. I was initially going to request forty an hour. As such, I’m now requesting sixty an hour, as sixty sounds better than fifty-five.”
“I cannot dispute that logic, so I won’t. Good. Sixty an hour is reasonable for the headache Lucifer will inevitably give you. Now, add your twenty thousand bonus for putting up for Lucifer’s idiocy. That’s on top of your base sixty per hour, with it reoccurring yearly. As Lucifer’s idiocy truly knows no boundaries, you should request a ten percent per year minimum increase to that bonus.”
“Am I allowed to be a little gay? At least a little gay enough to say I think I love you and how you think?”
“You don’t have to be gay to love someone of the same gender. Good friendships are founded on love, and I find that being friends with my co-workers makes life a lot better. But I am not the kind to become offended by such affections. I deal with succubi on an almost daily basis, and I’ve gotten used to being fondled, hugged, cuddled, and otherwise handled by other women. Maybe I should suggest you add a bonus to deal with the various demons and devils. It’s quite the adjustment.” Diana sighed. “The more I think about it, the more I think this offer, even Lucifer’s upgraded offer, is just not high enough. He has had an idea.”
“Ideas are dangerous things in the wrong hands,” I muttered.
“Lucifer’s hands are always the wrong hands. Always. It took me about a month in his employee to learn this terrible truth. Worse, my fiancé is one of his nephews, so I simply can’t get rid of him. It doesn’t help I literally live in hell, and technically, he’s one of my neighbors. It’s a decent hike to his house from mine, but it doesn’t change the fact there are no beings offering any form of buffer.” Diana chuckled, and then she added, “It would not surprise me if you become one of my neighbors, too. Lucifer keeps his preferred people close, and Darlene has stars in her eyes regarding her brother.”
Who had time for an incubus around permanently? Not me. Or maybe not me, depending on the realities of the incubus. “She has stars in her eyes because he’s whining?”
“The whining is a real problem, but really, Jonas is lonely, he’s too dedicated to his partners to make a good incubus, but Lucifer was concerned he would become violent if converted into another demonic or devilish type. Incubi are pretty varied.”
“He wasn’t always an incubus?”
“Oh, no. He had a bad run as a mo
rtal, and Lucifer saved him to get on Darlene’s good side.” After muttering a few curses and something under her breath, Diana said, “If they want to tell you about how he became an incubus, they will. But he started out as mortal as you and me, as did Darlene. The Devil has his way of corrupting the poor unfortunate souls stuck with him.”
“Hey,” the Devil protested in the background. “What did I do now?”
“You’re bothering me. I’m on the phone, and if you keep bothering me, I’ll instruct Sandra to be more ruthless with her counteroffer.”
“That’s not encouraging me to stop bothering you,” Lucifer replied.
“Go away!” A moment later, something crashed, and the Devil yipped. “Damn it, I even liked that lamp.”
It took a moment or two to gather my courage, but I asked, “Did you just throw a lamp at Lucifer?”
“Not only did I throw a lamp, I hit him in the face with it. I really need to stop putting lamps I like on my desk. He comes and bothers me, and it’s the closest projectile with sufficient weight nearby to make it actually hurt if I hit him.”
“He lets you do that?”
“He encourages it. If he didn’t want to be hit in the face with a lamp, he’d stop giving me lamps.”
“Such a cruel, low blow,” the Devil complained. “How will I ever recover?”
Diana snorted. “I don’t know. Go ask Darlene. While you’re at it, send that idiot brother of hers here. I need him to do me a favor. Anyway, I’m sorry about that, Sandra. He’s leaving, probably to pick glass shards out of his face. That’ll keep him busy for a few minutes.”
