“Welcome to my home, Shinji,” Cat said at the front door. “Please make yourself comfortable.” Mr. Mouser came from inside and jumped on her lap. “And this cute guy here is Mr. Mouser.”
“Sorry for intruding,” the Japanese man said and entered the house. “Do I keep my shoes on?”
“Yes. Let’s drop your baggage and you can freshen up. I’m so sorry for putting you through that meeting right after arriving, but...”
“You are running against the clock, Catherine-sama. The sooner we defeat our enemy, the fewer people he can harm. It is laudable,” he wisely said.
She gave Shinji the best guest room they had and left him alone. Still caressing the pet lazying in her arms, she was about to go to her room when she heard a car entering the driveway.
[Dunno. Let’s check.]
She turned around and climbed down the stairs. She found her mother and two men in business suits with suitcases at the front door.
“Ah, the most unfilial of daughters,” Mrs. Wallenstein said. “Can you spare your mother a few minutes, Catherine?”
She felt each word like a knife stab. “Yes, mom. What can I do for you? Do you want a refreshment?”
She led the trio to sit on the couches. Mrs. Wallenstein nudged her head and one of the men opened his briefcase on his lap, removing a stack of documents.
“I came here to ease your worries about me,” the widow said with a smile. “The foundation is growing splendidly. We are operating in thirty-seven states with over fifty women’s rights organizations.”
“I’m so happy for you, mom,” Cat honestly gushed.
“And I settled ALL my debts!” Mrs. Wallenstein triumphantly gloated and signaled for the man to give her the documents. “All I needed to do was talk to my creditors and get the loans renegotiated! And they were kind enough to let me settle most of them without interest, even converting some of the debts into direct donations to the charities I’d originally donated to.”
Cat looked through the documents. The first one was their original bankruptcy plan, with a large “VOID” stamp across it. Then several debt settlement letters. She somehow convinced a dozen banks into just turning money into confetti. Somehow my ass, Cat thought. It was obvious the demon did something to the bankers to convince them to let the debts go.
“The foundation is partnering with several financial institutions to raise funds and awareness,” The woman explained. “We are promoting synergies and facilitating those institutions' social responsibility initiatives.”
The girl swallowed her worries and tried to be happy for her mother. Everything was going well for her, too well to be true but she was helpless. Unless they removed the demon from the equation, they couldn’t tell the truth. The end of the stack contained promotional pamphlets from the partner institutions promoting women’s rights and rape prevention programs.
“This is awesome, mom. I’m proud of what you accomplished,” she tried to sound sincere but was afraid she failed. Mrs. Wallenstein’s face remained impassive, her mix of poker face and business smile inscrutable. “Are you coming back home?”
“No, I just dropped by to give you a status update. I moved all my essentials to my New York home, and it is easier to manage the foundation from Manhattan. But I didn’t come here only to gloat,” she motioned to the second man, who removed another stack of documents from his briefcase. “Here are the disclaimer documents renouncing my position as a beneficiary of the Wallenstein dynasty trust. The trustee has already notarized them. I don’t want a dime from your inheritance, Catherine. It’s all yours.”
In any other situation, it would be a marvelous gift and a show of maternal trust in the child. But Cat couldn’t help but worry there was some kind of trap mixed in with the documents. Something was terribly wrong and she wished Shinji was around to sense “kegare” or demonic influence on these people.
“I don’t know what to say, mom,” she honestly remarked. Should she tell her to stay the fuck away from that demonic church? No, she’d be laughed at.
“Thank you are the customary words in such occasions daughter.”
“Thank you, mom.”
She and her two assistants stood up, “Well, I’m done here. Are you throwing a party for your birthday?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, you should. Mr. Marthan has been very interested in your well-being. You should make connections in society, Catherine. You can’t be a recluse heiress or they’ll forget the Wallenstein name and influence.”
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Of course, the demon sent to drag her screaming back to hell was very interested in her wellbeing. Or lack thereof.
Cat nodded, “I’ll keep your words in mind, mother.”
“Good.”
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After her mother left, she went to her room with the documents, feeling as if she’d lost a battle. She couldn’t help but suspect something was going on.
[There’s something wrong with the trust fund.]
[What?]
Cat took her phone and called Agatha at her work. After the initial greetings, she went straight to business. “Agatha, I need a full audit of the dynasty trust. I have reasons to believe the trustee bank is violating its fiduciary duties. I’ll also need an audit on the offshore holdings. And I’m sorry to be cliché but I need it yesterday.”
“Calm down, Catherine,” Agatha said on the other side of the line. “Explain to me what happened.” After a retelling of her mother’s visit and the connection between pardoning the debts and the trustee institution, the lawyer agreed to the audit. “We’ll make it happen, and don’t worry. That bank manages a lot of trusts for our clients, Rothman & Sullivan’s reputation is on the line too. I’ll go and talk to the boss. Can you fax me the documents? No, I’ll send a courier to pick them up. Make copies and keep them ready for pickup.”
“I will. Sorry for springing it upon you, Agatha.”
“That’s my job, miss Wallenstein. On behalf of Rothman & Sullivan, we wanted to say thank you for your timely report. We’re so lucky to have customers like you!”
Cat couldn’t help but laugh. She pretended to be angry and shouted at the phone, “You don’t dare change tracks into marketing, you hear me!”
“Not even in my dreams, Catherine. It is thanks to you I landed this opportunity straight out of college. You boosted my career by more than ten years and have been nothing but a sweetheart to me. That means a lot to me and I’d like to tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
“And Oliver’s.” Both women vocalized their concern for the senior lawyer with sighs and groans. “Any news about him?”
“The doctors said he’ll wake up any day now. They were amazed at how fast he recovered.”
“Thanks, Agatha. I’ll leave you to do your job now, and when you go talk to the big boss, tell him I need my second favorite lawyer at his firm to keep a mind as keen as possible. No overtime for you.”
“Booh,” Agatha joked. “Take care, Cathy. Rothman & Sullivan thank you for your contact.”
“A nice day to you too.”
Cat went to her computer and spent the rest of the day browsing the periodic reports the trustee sent her family going back as far as eight years ago. The former investment banker found them almost spotless and as ironclad as Catherine claimed.
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Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp, Cuba.
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Dispossessed, disfranchised, humiliated, abused, tortured. Nobody cared for him, not the fellow prisoners, not the wardens of this military camp. He, a US citizen had his civil rights stripped when he was shipped offshore along with the shredded bits of the Constitution. Now he had to hear the incessant droning of the Arabs praying.
A guard tapped the steel door of his cell. “You got a visitor, scumbag,” the soldier barked.
He heard the latch open and the door swung. Roger Marthan was on the other side. “YOU!” He shouted and rushed for the cursed lawyer when two taser darts flew past the man. He fell on the ground, spasming.
“Tut-tut. We can’t have violence here. Thank you, gentlemen, I’ll handle him now,” the black-eyed lawyer said and entered the room. The door closed behind him. Displaying strength beyond what his physical body should bear, the man lifted him by the neck. “Now listen up, scumbag of a rapist. Hell has a special place for people like you. I hope you like pineapples shoved up your ass (what a great idea) because you’d wish we could grow pineapples in hell.”
He was violently thrown against the reinforced concrete wall, pain shot up his spine and he fell on a heap next to the hole he used as a toilet.
“What do you want?” He grunted.
“I want Catherine Wallenstein’s soul,” Rorgramathan’s voice became guttural as he dropped his human disguise and assumed his true form.
He screamed and scuttled backward, wishing he could fit in the literal shithole underneath his floor toilet. The man screamed his brains out at the sight of the pudgy and disgusting demon. The smell of his acidic ichor burned his nostrils and made his eyes water.
“Now, do you want to get out of here and get your vengeance against her, or should they take you to the ‘special chair’ again? I bet you loved sitting on that bump for hours. Prove your worth to hell and we might make you a lesser daemonling.”
Rorgramathan knew it was his fate anyway so he wasn’t promising anything that would cost the demon something.
“Do YoU wAnT to KILL tHe BitCh?” The demon asked, inching forward menacingly. “I’ll grant you the power to do so. Break her divine protection, then break her tiny body. I’m tired of wasting energy attempting to do so myself.”
Pure anger flowed into him as he gave himself up to the infernal embrace, “Yes. I’ll murder that bitch if you take me out of here. I can’t stand the torture here!”
Rorgramathan smiled. “So shall be it. In exchange for your eternal service as my lackey, I’ll give you strength, resilience, and a way to locate Catherine Wallenstein. I just don’t have a fancy McFarlane suit to give you, but arise, hell-spawn.”
The demon breathed out ichorous red smoke that sparkled with a sinister light. As if attracted by the man’s sins, the smoke flew toward his mouth, nostrils, and eyes, forcing itself into his body and making his face bleed until It was covered in blood.
He screamed as the infernal energy entered him. It made the humiliation he passed under his own government feel like a lover’s caress. His bones and flesh broke and became remade. He was already big for an offensive lineman and grew another foot, gaining equivalent body mass. His skin assumed a reddish tone and his teeth and fingernails became pointed. Even his cock grew in both length and girth, sprouting backward barbs behind the circumcised glans.
“Perfect. Just perfect. I love when the sins express themselves so purely on a mortal’s body. Now, I must go back to New York. Do make yourself useful, little daemonling. Try your newfound powers in your jailors and fellow inmates here. Then make your way back home. Oh, this will be glorious.”
The demon assumed his human disguise and knocked on the door. The man was still writhing and convulsing on the ground, his mind drowning in hellfire. A single purpose filled his sin-powered being. Long after the lawyer left and the night fell, he moved and said three words with an otherworldly voice.
“KILL tHe BitCh!”