Lucifer's Litigator

by TJ Nichols

  Chapter 2

  WILLIAM SMOOTHED his hair and then ruffled it. He wasn’t stepping into court. This meeting was far more stressful, and he was already running late for his high school reunion. He was sure that was deliberate on Plutus’s part. Plutus and the shadows couldn’t stop him from going to the reunion—directly interfering would be a breach of their side of the deal—but he could create chaos around him that would impede him. Last-minute meetings or a car accident blocking up both lanes of traffic for the best part of an hour were all obstacles designed to make life so difficult he gave up and behaved in a way that was acceptable.

  His heart beat a rapid tempo, too fast for the occasion. Did Plutus know what he wanted? William had been damn careful and never breathed a word of his desire, but perhaps he’d been seen with Lucifer—not his choice, not that Plutus would care about that small detail. That Lucifer wanted him to go to the reunion was a reason not to attend. Especially if Plutus was onto him. Or maybe Plutus saw the reunion as a threat in case Tom was there and nothing more.

  He closed his eyes. Every time he read a contract, he paid attention to the out clause. Especially if the person got free. He’d started making a list of things that had worked and could be applied to his case.

  What if Tom was there this time? What if William could trigger his nullification clause?

  And what if Tom wasn’t there… again?

  William had gone to his ten-year reunion, mostly to rub it in everyone’s faces that he’d become a success. Fuck, he’d been so dumb. Three years out of university and he had a plum, high-paying job. It was everything he wanted—no more secondhand clothes or making do. He could buy whatever he wanted, and he had.

  He stared out the dark window. The lights glittering off the Swan River held no appeal tonight. His penthouse apartment and top-of-the-line cars meant nothing. Five years ago he realized what he’d done, but by then he was in too deep.

  If he’d worked for a gangster, he’d be expecting a bullet or a quick boat trip to feed the great whites that lived between the coast and Rottnest Island. That fate would’ve been preferable. He’d have stood a better chance of survival.

  William didn’t move. His feet were rooted in the plush carpet. If he didn’t leave now, the party would be starting to break up. He might already be too late to accidentally run into Tom. Or would Lucifer make sure Tom was there?

  William had tried to look Tom up over the years, but it was as though he’d vanished. The careful work of the shadows, no doubt. Even if William did bump into Tom, he couldn’t tell him the truth, not without forking his tongue, and he really didn’t want to be explain the split on Monday morning. Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t even make it to Monday. He was too closely watched.

  William lifted his chin. Let them watch. This wouldn’t be the first reunion he’d gone to.

  He was probably overdressed in his three-piece suit, but he couldn’t get changed again, so he grabbed his phone and swept out the door. This time he didn’t care about impressing the rest of his classmates. He was no longer the scholarship kid. He was a success by any measure.

  Already delayed on his way home by what he was sure was not a random car accident, he opted to walk the two blocks to the hotel in the center of Perth where the reunion was being held. Shadows slithered around him, along the sides of buildings, and followed him as he walked. Surveillance was everywhere, but where once it had scared him—and had led to a year of binge-drinking—now he didn’t even glance at them. The shadows were always around, but most humans didn’t see them. Those that did were usually medicated.

  A few men were smoking in the front of the hotel. Was he supposed to know them? They looked at him, but there was no smile or nod, so William didn’t bother either.

  Twenty-five years on, and he had nothing in common with most of these people. Most of the boys in his year had gone on to be lawyers and doctors, as expected, with a smattering of accountants for good measure.

  The ballroom was well decorated and filled with old boys and their partners.

  Judging by the age gap between husband and wife, some men were definitely on wife number two or maybe three. It amused him that the bullies had softened around the middle, their faces puffed from alcohol and ill temper. Some of the boys he’d once known were now bald-headed men. They’d turned into their fathers.

  He had no idea who his father was. He’d died before William could form memories, and William felt no connection to the man his mother remembered.

  He walked through the gathering, nodding to a few he thought he knew.

  “Still lawyering, William?”

  William turned at his name and smiled. “Yes.” He took a moment and tried to remember who the man was and what he did for a living, but William had no recollection. He hadn’t paid attention to that shit last time. He’d only cared about making sure they all knew how well he’d done.

  Now he cared about catching up with only one person, and this was the only place he could do it. He was about to turn away, but then he stopped. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen Tom Langford about?”

  “Tom? I haven’t seen him since school. Didn’t he get himself blown up in Afghanistan?” The man laughed and shook his head as though it was funny.

  William stared. He was sure Tom hadn’t gotten killed, even though he’d been surprisingly hard to find. “I don’t think so.” William turned away and scanned the crowd. He’d recognize Tom, wouldn’t he?

  The doubts that had stalked him like the silken shadows on the street swarmed and made it hard to breathe. What was he doing? It had been too long. Tom would’ve moved on. William had… and yet he hadn’t. He couldn’t, because of his contract.

  What had possessed him to put Tom in the out clause? Had Tom been a true regret? Or, twenty-five years ago, had he just not believed he’d ever want to get out of his contract?

  He swiped a drink from the tray of a passing waiter and kept his mask firmly in place. He had the life others would envy. He should at least act as though he was enjoying it.

  With his heart beating too hard and his resolve back in place, he circulated around the room. He wasn’t there to meet Tom. He wasn’t hunting down his old regret with the hope of fixing it. He was at the reunion to see people and be seen. That was all.

  After an hour, it was clear he’d been forgotten by most—including those who’d tormented him, which was disappointing. He hadn’t forgotten them, and he was tempted to send a reminder after them—a shadow to worry at their heels for a bit like a dog with a stolen slipper.

  It was worrying that he even had that power, and more worrying that he wanted to use it. He was losing his grip on his humanity on a daily basis. When he’d first noticed it happening, he’d been horrified, and he’d known then that he’d been in the job too long. But how did one leave the godly Industry of Miracles?

  Miracles was far too good at making sure no employee left—ever. No miracle was free, and the fine print was ever so fine and convoluted.

  He’d thought he was helping people, negotiating between humans and gods so everyone won. How blinded by money had he been?

  Yet he worked for the gods. How could that be wrong?

  That’s what everyone thought until they saw the inside and the way the gods played games. If not for Lucifer and his lawyers, there’d be no one protecting humans from vultures like him.

  He stared into his glass. He was the reason so many people didn’t like lawyers. On some level, people knew. He was already a monster.

  Suddenly the lights in the room were too bright and the shadows too dark.

  THE ACCIDENT had held Tom Langford up for well over an hour. He was late, and there was almost no point in going late, but now he was back living in Perth, he needed to reforge the connections he’d let slide while he was in the Army. Going to his high school reunion had seemed like a good way to reconnect. Today it was like the universe was trying to make sure that didn’t happen.

  His niece’s party had run late, his su
it wasn’t ready at the dry cleaners, and then the accident on the freeway had delayed him. Instead of wearing a suit, he put on nice jeans, a shirt, and a waistcoat, but he still felt underdressed. He wasn’t one of those people who could make casual look classy. Too many years in uniform had stripped his dress sense to the basics. There were times when he missed having a uniform for every occasion.

  He parked his car and made his way to the hotel. There was still an hour to go, and some of the guys would kick on and make a night of it. Or at least he hoped they would. He could do with a big night out, even though hangovers over the age of forty were practically demonic.

  He missed the bounce of his twenties. If he drank in those quantities now, he’d end up in a hospital or dead.

  Probably dead.

  He wiped his palms on his jeans as he walked in. He hadn’t done a reunion and wasn’t sure how they went. His invitation had arrived at his house a week past the RSVP deadline, but he’d called up and had been allowed to attend. The invitation had traveled from Perth to Sydney and back to Perth with a detour via Darwin. He had no idea why it had ended up there. He was lucky the new owners of his Sydney place were still forwarding the scraps of mail that came addressed to him.

  He’d kept up with a few of the guys on the footy team online, but the old habit of keeping his private life private had never died. When he was in the Army, he’d made sure to keep his profile locked down and to be careful what he said. He’d seen too many get bitten on the arse by a careless post.

  The ballroom was full of guys and their partners. For a moment he was acutely aware that he was alone. Moving back to Perth had killed his last relationship—five years gone because Harrison valued his career more than what they had and more than Tom’s career reboot. Or maybe it was because Tom refused to introduce Harrison to his family. That had been the start of the arguments. Instead of celebrating marriage equality, they broke up. Tom relocating was the excuse they both needed, but it still hurt. Before Harrison there’d been a string of girlfriends and boyfriends. He’d tried to settle down, but maybe that just wasn’t him.

  He recognized a few guys from the football team and made his way over to Paul and Scott, thankful he had someone to talk to until he was able to gauge the room a bit better. The guys were happy to talk about themselves, which suited Tom, even though he didn’t care about the second divorce or the twins or the boat or any of the other things they boasted about.

  “What about you?” Paul had once been the quickest man on the field. He was now quick at sucking down the free beer while his wife chatted to one of the other wives.

  They still all got together regularly. Was that going to be his life now? Falling back into the old friendships as though nothing had changed? They’d had good times, and maybe he needed to extend himself beyond the friends he had up north when he was on-site.

  Tom took a sip of beer. “I got out of the Army three years ago and moved back here a few months ago. Got a job on the mines.”

  “Up north?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t mind the bush or the heat or working with a small team of surveyors. He liked being closer to home and seeing his nieces and nephews. Being forced to see the rest of his family at the same time was a downside. He could still hear his father mocking him for getting out of the Army, as though he couldn’t hack it. Twenty years was long enough. It had been time for a change. He’d shown exceptional restraint in not laying his father out and ruining the party. Instead he’d asked what exactly his father had done for the country.

  “What did you do in the Army? You could’ve done anything.”

  He couldn’t have. His grades weren’t enough for medicine or lawyering, and he’d never wanted an office job. “Surveying.”

  And other things.

  A dark-haired man caught his eye, and he glanced away. This was not the place to be picking up. Fuck, was that Will? If it was, he hadn’t aged a day.

  Scott followed his gaze. “Oh yeah. Will was asking if you’d be here. You two were friends, weren’t you?”

  Tom couldn’t breathe. Will. They had taken their tutoring sessions to new and debauched levels. Before Tom had gone to the Australian Defense Force Academy, their summer had been rather epic, even though some of the memories were fuzzed by alcohol and age.

  “Yeah.” And then some. “I’d better go see him.” Tom broke away from the group and moved toward Will. He still wore glasses, though they were far more stylish, and his dark hair still had an untamable quality caused by the two cowlicks on his crown. Tom’s heartbeat quickened as though not a day had passed, and the lust was as heady as it had ever been. A wash of shame quickly followed. He’d been such a tool back then. He didn’t know why Will would want to see him.

  Intent on Will, Tom crashed into a waiter, who dropped the tray of drinks he was carrying. Wine and beer splashed up Tom’s jeans, and broken glass scattered over the floor.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” the waiter apologized.

  Tom hadn’t been paying attention, that’s what had happened. Will had once again captured his interest simply by being in the same room.

  “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. The red wine would stain his jeans, and for a split second, all he saw was blood-spatter. He blinked and the moment was gone, but the lingering image made his skin cold.

  Will walked over, drawn by the commotion. Tom swallowed hard, torn between wanting to see him and not knowing what to say. What was that rule about old lovers? Don’t go back, because there was a reason it ended? There was no reason, though, except he’d moved across the country and had been too lazy to keep writing or calling—too young and dumb to do long-distance.

  “Hi” was all he could force out.

  The waiter was still apologizing, and the broken glass was getting cleaned up around him. He stepped back to get out of their way and almost slipped on the spilled alcohol. Will put his hand out and steadied him. The heat of his palm soaked through Tom’s shirt.

  “I’m having the worst luck today.” Tom smiled and tried to make light of his clumsiness. He’d caused a scene, and everyone was looking at them.

  Something flashed across Will’s face, but it was gone before Tom could work out what it was. “I hope running into me doesn’t count.”

  Tom wasn’t sure how to answer. He should say no and that he was glad to see him. He was, in part, but the rest of him felt the embarrassment of not replying to a letter or even bothering to call. Because he’d been busy, the weeks had slid by, and it had seemed too late to reconnect. It hadn’t been too late—he knew that as an adult—but his nineteen-year-old self hadn’t known what to do.

  He hadn’t wanted to admit Will was more than a friend, even though they’d been fucking. So he’d bailed on Will and used study as an excuse instead of telling the truth and apologizing. Then he convinced himself it was for the best, that they’d have never made it. They both had dreams to pursue. It was a fling, an intense few months that had left him gutted when he got on the plane to Canberra.

  “No.” How was it possible that Will looked so good? “I….” He had no idea what to say. Will was still touching his arm, and his brain had turned to static.

  Will smiled, but where once it would have lit his blue eyes, now his eyes swallowed that joy, as if there was only a hungry void within him. His hand fell away. “I was hoping to catch up with you. Someone told me you’d gotten yourself blown up. Clearly not.”

  “I’m out now. Just a civvy. You?” Why had Will wanted to see him? Their history was almost vintage. When had they gotten old? Not that Will looked anything close to forty-three. Tom’s gaze skimmed over Will’s well-tailored suit—the kind that didn’t come off the rack. The watch on his wrist was worth more than some cars. Will was not the broke teen he’d once been, but Will had always been smart and driven. He’d been going places even at school. Tom had known he’d never be able to keep up—another reason they weren’t going to work.

  “Contract law.” There was no sm
ile, just resignation and the same dead-eyed stare Tom had seen on the faces of men who’d given up—the knowledge that no matter what they did, life was shit. He wanted better for Will.

  Tom’s tongue turned wooden. He didn’t know what else to say, but he wanted to catch up. He’d thought about Will over the years but had lacked the balls to do anything about it. Now here he was. No rings on either of their fingers, but that didn’t mean anything. He needed to say something, so he went with the obvious. “Here with someone?”

  “No. You?”

  Tom shook his head. “No.”

  Should he apologize for not replying all those years ago, or was that forgotten history? “Scott said you were looking for me.”

  “Just wanted to catch up…. It’s been….”

  “Years. I….” The words dried up on his tongue.

  While people chatted and laughed around them as though everything were fine, the hairs on the back of Tom’s neck prickled. He wanted to scan the room and look for threats, but at the same time, didn’t want to risk looking away in case Will vanished. He didn’t want to lose him again, so he jumped, knowing full well that his chute might not open.

  “You look good.” Too much? Or too little? He sweated for the three seconds it took Will to answer.

  Will’s smile reached his eyes for a heartbeat. “So do you.”

  “Nah, too much sun and squinting.” He knew he had velociraptor’s feet, not crow’s feet, and he looked like he’d spent the last twenty years outside. He’d gotten his hands dirty.

  “It suits you.” There was that smile, so familiar and yet so different.

  Tom’s heart beat a little faster. The old attraction was still there. Will had always been good at getting what he wanted. With a touch or a smile, Tom would melt. That hadn’t changed.

  They weren’t doing this… whatever this was. Never go back. That was a good rule, right? But back to what? They hadn’t dated, and Tom had never called him boyfriend, but they had definitely been more than friends. Will had known that, but Tom was too blinded by fear to realize what he had. What he’d lost.