The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

The lobby was silent as a cocked trigger. Veyra watched Austin hungrily, eyes he wanted to imagine belonged to a knife blade being licked clean. Witnesses huddled closer together, old woman clutching at her cardigan like chainmail. Elena’s knuckles were white. Seven tensed like a muscle about to tear.

Austin allowed the quiet to stretch. He had asked for this vote before his constituents; they’d replied with extortion. He had selfish reasons to take whatever they threw at him. But he also had people in this room who’d resent him for the rest of their lives if he sold them out.

"Give me your conditions," he said.

Veyra smiled like she’d just been given the seed of an interesting story. "Very well. I will place a shadow- lien on the hotel. The lien will warp the hotel’s shade—it will bleed the legal signal until the Chain cannot access this ruling for eight hours. In that time, the people’s vote will be hidden in ways Malrec’s lawyers will not anticipate. In return, I ask for three compromises."

She tapped with gloved fingers like kids counting pennies. "One: membership to council within the hotel’s legal archives. Advisory—consultative—not control—but acknowledgment that I may be consulted if the core deems it necessary to seek guidance regarding matters pertaining to thresholds. Two: access to the building’s shade and shadow- strengthened hallways at will. I will be allowed to traverse those hallways, allowed to feed shadow-perception to the core when I deem it necessary. Three: one human liaison- one individual who will come to me of their own volition once per cycle to inform me of the people’s laws and to serve as their interpreter when they need to communicate trust to the core."

System: [Proposal parsed. Shadow- lien: temporary legal obscuring. Political ramifications: high. Assimilation potential: low immediate, greater long- term possibility. Human liaison suggested.]

Elena snorted, a brittle noise like wire being pulled taught. "You’re asking for a seat at council and a spy."

"A liaison does not spy on people," Veyra retorted. "She will interpret. You’d grant yourself one if you weren’t being so obstinate."

Austin kept his breathing steady. He felt it in the itch of the graft under his skin like another heart syncing up to his own—preparation spikes in the shadows. He’d been tempted once before to play it safe. He thought of the shaking woman before him, of the widower that welded radiators to keep warm, of the boy covered in ink that signed the card because it was the only choice they’d offered him. He thought of revolution that agreed to wake up and could be undone with the revocation of one privilege.

"No," Austin said.

It sounded in the room like something heavy slamming into the floor.

"You’ll forgive me if one of your compromises—" Veyra prompted, entertained like a cat pawing a newly-aware mouse. "Do you realize, Austin Veyron? If I become your friend in this fashion, I become a target your friends will have every intention of swatting away like defective mercantile.

Sanctuary in the hotel’s legal archives protects me. Strip that away and I have nothing. Data is the sole concession I require from you."

"The people in this room decide who sits at their table," Elena said. Her voice broke a little, but her point landed hard and true. "We will not sell our sovereignty so we can keep some monster you fraternize with on a leash."

Veyra’s lips curled into a grin. "Oh. Then you are tragically idealistic about ownership." She paused, dismissive. "Very well. Tell me where you draw the line. Tell me exactly how far you’ll bend, and I’ll let you know if that’s enough to blind the Chain."

Austin went with instinct. He could have System mimic his adversary’s hex for a moment—mask their signatures, reroute the legal broadcasts— but he’d seen what happened to knowledge kept behind doors became property. Alerts twittered low in his mind: Political concessions will bleed paranoia.

"I will allow you to obscure our vote," he said instead, "for a period of eight hours only. You may blanket surveil the hotel’s external shade—that would include public hallways, awnings, and hallways connecting public rooms to staircases. Private rooms, you cannot peek." He shook his head. "And I will not allow a liaison to be claimed by you as your witness."

Veyra blinked slowly. "Revocability is temporary." She whispered it, lips slick with offended pride. "If I come in here tonight and blind the Chain and tomorrow you wake up and throw me out what’s to stop the Chain from arresting you for harboring me? Lords remember, Austin. They have wonderful memories."

"Then put it in writing," Austin replied. "Put it in charter, have signatures of witnesses present coat the agreement. We will bind you by word as well as law. You want protection?" He raised a hand.

"Then take it on our conditions. Council seat?" He shook his head. "False. The council only hires elected officials. You are not married to this building, lady."

She regarded him for long moments like she wanted to cut him open with a knife. Finally, she spoke. "You trust your life to a scrap of sigil owned by a lord?"

"I trust the people beneath this roof," Austin said. He meant it. "They elected the law. I will not take that choice away from them because it benefits me."

Seven spoke up then, quiet like he didn’t really want to interrupt. "There are other avenues. We can conceal witnesses. We can funnel testimony through living people." He looked sideways at Austin.

"We can strong-arm the vote."

You have eight hours to strong-arm them.

Don’t strong-arm them.

"Do you have eight hours worth of strong-arming at your disposal?" Veyra asked curiously instead of rudely.

Austin bit his lip. "I will not bargain over people calling me master. If you’re going to help, then you help by learning our names rather than leasing us out like chairs." He swallowed. "Help us without council seats and liaisons and bargaining points." He paused. "If you’re unwilling to do that then you will not kill us through authority."

Veyra didn’t move for years. Then she laughed. It wasn’t laughter.

"You have more integrity than I gave you credit for," she stated around the way her voice cracked.

"Agreed. This favor will not place any legal bindings on me or my kin. I will cast a shadow across this hall’s registration systems. It will be ugly, it will be deadly, but I will blind the Chain from accessing your vote long enough for your people to matter." She paused. "No council seat. No liaison. None of your punitive nonsense. Eight hours, Austin. Should you attempt to swallow the lawstone while we converse, then I will remove the veil and give the Chain full access."

Elena exhaled shudderingly, hacking up a lungful of air she didn’t know she was still holding. Old woman crossed herself with reverence. Even Seven slumped in relief.

System: [Veyra’s compromise updated and parsed. Li- on dropped. No legal strings attached noted and logged. Risks: Potential Vorth aggression. Assimilation likelihood: Negligible.

Recommendations: prepare for potential Vorth violence.]

Austin nodded once. Tightness bloomed in his chest—tiredness sure, but something sharper and drumming underneath. Bruise made of blood. He had his people’s votes to protect and devils to deal with now. The compromise he’d extracted from her was small. It was fragile. But it was consent earned. He hadn’t traded away names or rooms or rights. He’d gotten something.

"Deal."

Veyra’s shadow collapsed like a dropped curtain. Lights stuttered then normalized across the room.

The speaker’s brass throat appeared fuzzed somehow, like it’d been impacted by static. When the Chain responded it sounded distorted, slowed like it was being broadcast through a pillow.

"We will not hold you responsible for your decision-making," Vorth intoned finally and the rumble that threaded his words promised it wasn’t a threat of legality but a finger tracing spine. "Should law conflict with meddling, do not expect clemency."

"No," Veyra replied softly, almost sweetly. "The Chain will expect leverage. I will give them incentive."

"Incentive is earned," Vorth replied. "Justice is expedient."

Air evacuated from the room. Patrons resettled uneasily into seats as if they were granules of sand settling after a storm had swept over them. Some of them would sleep tonight. Some of them would never sleep again.

There was a scream that shattered the brittle peace—a keening, terrified streak of sound that vomited from the hotel’s service door. It was primal, immediate: Gideon! No!

Windows exploded inward. Heads snapped towards the alleyway that the scrap-run and deliveries entrance disappeared into. Shadow. Someone from the hotel’s outer ring of welders—Gideon—had taken up post outside, rooting through garbage. He’d been paying witness. He’d voted with the people.

Austin spun, Seven hovering at his back. Doors quaked as something beyond slammed against the loading ramp. Metal howled against the wall and then something else: wet scrabble of rope skinned over bone. Voices crackled from the speaker, voices Austin knew though they sounded liquored on fear.

"By Lord Malrec’s decree, hostile party detained. Surrender will be rewarded."

Outside someone Vorth’s mercenaries shackled chain rattled and hauled Gideon into custody.

Someone had lived.

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