“I have to go in and tender my resignation,” I told him, distracting him from the morning’s exercise. “I need to stay on the judge’s good side if I’m to ask for any cooperation over at the courthouse. How soon can we have an office up and running here?”
He shrugged. “No difficulty. The warehouse needs to be torn down, but if we’re careful removing them, the contents are still mostly available. I can salvage tables and bookshelves. I’ll call Boris to set up computers. You just have to order whatever online services you need. Do you have a credit card?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I mixed pancake batter and nuked frozen blueberries. “You know how much you didn’t pay me. Hard to get a credit card without a W-2.”
“Well, apply for one now while you still have a real job,” he said snidely. “You won’t qualify once you’re self-employed. In the meantime, I’ll give you mine. We’ll have space cleaned out by the time you return.”
Andre filled my tiny kitchen with his presence and his restlessness. I was still running on adrenaline. Pancakes were the last thing on my mind, but they gave my hands something more useful to do than running themselves through Andre’s blue-black hair and seeking release for overstimulation.
I poured half a dozen pancakes on the old griddle on the stove and handed Andre a spatula. “Flip them when they bubble. I have to dress for work.”
Rather than deal with the hyper sex drive between us, I left him to make his own blasted pancakes. By the time I returned to the kitchen, Schwartz had joined him, and Andre just about had pancake flipping under control. Leo was Norwegian big, and blond. Andre was Mediterranean dark, and sleek. Choices, so many lovely choices. I couldn’t afford to take either of them.
“You two look good together,” I said, grabbing a pancake off the top of a stack. “Have a nice life. I’m heading into town.”
They were probably glaring daggers at my back as I dashed out, but Milo purred a happy farewell.
Instead of pouring coffee when I reached the judge’s office, I prepared probate papers to file at the courthouse on Paddy’s behalf. Reggie stayed out of my way. Once the judge finally put in an appearance, I cornered him in his lair and pleaded my case. I was determined not to be a loose-cannon superhero. I wanted the law solidly on my side.
When he learned Julius was taking me on as a junior, Snodgrass actually managed a smile. “I didn’t know Montoya was still alive! What’s he been doing? Have him give me a call, will you? We can catch up on old times. How is that lovely wife of his?”
Now I could see why Julius hated making phone calls and talking to his old friends. It had to be painful to keep saying his wife was in a coma—and, ultimately, impossible to explain. The Zone had completely claimed him, even if he hadn’t been otherwise affected by the chemicals.
“She’s stable,” I said noncommittally. “Opening an office near his home is the only reason he’s agreeing to this. I’ll have a commute to the courthouse, but I can do that more easily than he can. Padraig Vanderventer wants me to file the probate papers while I’m over here. I’m doing it on your time, so you can invoice him. If there’s any problem, can you follow up?”
I knew how to play nice. I puffed his ego, said all the right things, and took care of business. I was no longer a twenty-year-old hothead egging the provost’s office. Admittedly, I’d sent my boyfriend to hell in a fit of fury, but I’d learned from the experience and brought him back—sort of. I hoped I was mature enough to take on this next step.
After we wrangled an emergency approval, probate was mostly paperwork, collecting a million copies of Gloria’s death certificate and filing them hither and yon. I was already hoping I could earn enough money to pay for a clerk. I’d developed a taste for action, and paperwork and errand-running no longer rang my chimes.
I writhed with my need to bring Acme down and rescue poor Bill and hunt for the missing cloud can. Maybe once Paddy was set free at the plant, he could stop whatever was shaking the ground and discover what was wrong with the pink particles. That was pushing my luck, I knew. But if he could just find the bad guys . . . maybe I could wish for the victims to be cured while I sent the bastards to hell. I still had a lot to learn about this Saturn business.
Max called after I’d tucked Paddy’s documents into my messenger bag and was on the bike, ready to head home. I would have to buy a briefcase, I realized. Carrying legal papers in a messenger bag full of cat hair wasn’t very professional. It would have been nice if I’d had a loving normal family showering me with congratulations and fancy briefcases for graduation instead of one that sent me links to strange websites, but I’d make do. My lack of family had taught me a self-sufficiency that had kept me alive all these years.
“Temporary probate filed,” I told Max when I answered. “You and Paddy will share equally unless a will is found. Want me to set up a meeting between the two of you?”
I shouldn’t be so malicious. I had no idea what the relationship had been between scientific Paddy and his son, the materialistic, greedy Dane, but I was pretty certain it hadn’t been great. Throwing Max’s social conscience into the scenario would bollix it up nicely. I didn’t have to have my own family to understand the meaning of
“I’d rather you sent me back to hell,” Max growled. “Except I think you’re right. I think Dane’s in hell, and he’s trying to kill me. The gas logs exploded this morning.”
My concern was instantaneous. I gunned the Harley and prepared to turn toward his condo instead of home. “What happened? Are you all right? I don’t want to be visiting you in a hospital room ever again.”
“I’m all right. The fire department called it a malfunction and turned off the gas. I’m having the gas stove replaced with electric.”
“Consequences,” I sighed, turning off the engine again so I could hear. “I knew playing with fire had consequences. I just didn’t know what they’d be. If I’m opening mirrors on hell, it can’t be good.”
I hadn’t been visited by any of the other cretins I’d dispatched to their just rewards. But maybe the Vanderventers were as privileged in the afterlife as they had been in this one. An affinity for wealth and power sounded evil enough to entice Satan.
“You didn’t take out Gloria, so you’re safe,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll probably look for a Realtor, but I’ve got the condo under control for now. I am not ashamed to admit that I want no part of Gloria’s hell house. Paddy can look for a damned will if he’s not happy sharing. Andre might want to stay out of the mansion, too. Logic has even less purpose on the other side than it does in the real world. All that bottled-up rage, hate, and fear is pretty raw and gruesome.”
“My expert on hell,” I said dryly, hating to think about my bighearted Max suffering such horror.
And I was fretting because I realized that, technically, Andre had brought about Dane’s death as well as Gloria’s, even if they’d caused their own demises. My very own demon slayer—and if she could, Gloria would go after him.
I wasn’t precisely innocent in Dane’s death. I figured illogical rage would find me if it haunted the mansion. I didn’t want any of us out there.
“Without a will, your trustees have to work with Paddy against your parents and grandmother for control of Acme,” I warned. “Divided this way, neither of you will have a controlling share. And I suspect Paddy won’t be satisfied until he’s searched the mansion and found Gloria left no surprises that might blow up in his face should MacNeill get to them first. It would be better if he had witnesses.”
“I don’t think Paddy is ready to work with anyone,” he said cynically. “Can you trust me to send out a team to help him?”
“You can try. Don’t feel bad if Paddy rejects them.”
I debated whether I should tell Paddy about the Dane/Max soul transference, but I still wasn’t positive Paddy was sane, and I doubted whether Max wanted his scary secret spread to the world if Paddy talked. I’d have to play that one by ear.
We agreed on a time, and I roared home, enjoying the ride down country lanes struck with more autumn colors with each passing day. I wondered what would happen if I tried to plant a tree in Pearl’s backyard. I would have to clear out the dead appliances and old sinks first.
I wheeled home, grabbed a sandwich, added Milo to his new tote bag, then trotted next door. Julius had crates of books stacked in the foyer, ready to be moved to our new office. I was already having second and third thoughts about Andre’s grandiose scheme.
“Won’t you need these?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if I just came over here when I need your library?”
