"No." I said.

"Yes. Do I have to threaten you again. This is getting old."

In life one has to pick their battles. I end up going along with it, searching for the least offensive choice.

The clothes range from extremely slutty to barely passable. Ultimately, I end up picking up a pair of black leather short shorts that hug my ass like a long lost lover and a lace thong that wedges itself uncomfortably in the crack of my ass.

When I bend down to pick up the clothes and put them away, the damnable shorts expose some of my butt cheeks.

As I walk, I can feel Dober's piercing gaze on my backside. I can hear her loud panting and drool hitting the floor.

"Look at that ass, my god. I can't decide wether I want to fuck you right now , right here, or if I want some food."

Fuck. I should have seen this one coming. "Look, Dober. I understand that you are a piece of shit rapist and all that, but we do have some stuff to do. Like the body of my aunt you murdered or finding a way to get some more food, ring any bells?"

My familiar sighs, still in her dog form. Must be trying to conserve energy. I still can't get used to a dog talking to me and don't see this happening any time in the near future.

"The things I do for my darling," she snickers. "Go cook something and then we'll take care of these things, cause I'm freakin' starvin' here. But, don't get me twisted, you won't be weaseling your way out of this; I want to have your tight hole tonight in bed."

Dober skulks off to do something and I walk into the kitchen.

This time I am also starving from no eating yesterday, so I put some meat for me as well. The savory smell makes my stomach grumble and my mouth water.

While I am cooking, I see a cockroach scuttling about in the counter and an idea hits me.

Using the spatula, I smash it to pieces. I leave it there.

Then, when the meat is done, I cut one of Dober's stakes on the side and stick the body of the insect as a present, smiling balefully. She didn't tell me to make it tasty this time and she probably won't notice.

I call her and with my sight I can see the connection between us flare, the wire getting tugged every time I say her name.

She comes running on all fours and all but slides to a stop, eyes sparkling with joy. Talk about food addiction.

"Bon appetit," I say smiling to myself internally.

She starts eating with gusto, food falling from her mouth, making noises.

"Mmm, this is really tasty, Jesse!" she exclaimed, food still in her mouth. "You outdid yourself this time. Maybe your love is making it taste better, maybe you've finally fallen for me, for my irresistible dick, hmmm?"

I grit my teeth, grinding them.

"Whatever, knock yourself out. I'm going to take care of Synthia's body."

I walk back towards the room were the fight took place.

Blood stains the walls, the floor. The walls and floor are cracked from the shotgun blasts, and the corpse lies in the middle of it, already emitting foul odors.

How do I even clean this?

I guess I'll need some cleaning elements. I have no idea where they are in this huge mansion, but the garage and basement seem like the most likely places where I'll find them

I check the garage, but while there are tools and other such things, I don't find cleaning products.

I jog down the stairs and pass by the library, going into one of the two other rooms there which looks like a storage room.

Here, I do find the bottle of cleaning product and mops. I also fill a bucket with water from a rusty faucet in the wall.

When I have everything I need, I make my way up to the room.

Before I start cleaning I decide to rummage through Synthia's belongings, holding my breath.

Her leather jacket has marks and runes on the inside for durability and protection and I decide to wear it. I grab the short shotgun as well, some throwing knifes too.

Now, the only question is what to do with the body.

I wrack my brain, looking for solutions. All those crime shows have made me paranoid, and I can't help but feel that if I do something stupid like bury the body in the yard, the police is gonna dig it up.

When in doubt consult the experts, I suppose. I decide to call up the lawyers and ask them for advice. After all, aren't lawyers supposed to be corrupt and keep silent.

The only issue is that I forgot their damned number and don't have the letter where it was listed with me. What was it? 6..0.. shit, I don't remember.

I decide to attempt calling their names, activating my sight, and tugging on their connection. Maybe they will call the house phone like that.

"Morgan and Crane." I said, feeling the connection tug.

"Morgan and Crane."

Still no call. Maybe the third time?

"Morgan and Crane."

No call. I looked around the room, looking for any changes, any signs of what was happening.

"Morgan and Crane."

I inspect the connections again and find that they are still being tugged, summoned.

"Morgan and Crane!" I screamed. Maybe with a more emphatic tone the spirits will listen?

"Morgan and Crane! Morgan an-"

A set of loud knocks on the front door stop me.

I walk towards it and unlock it, swinging it open.

"Good day, Jesse." greeted Crane, giving me a professional smile. "You called?"

Morgan gives me a short analytical glance and then goes back to her clipboard.

I expected something, but not them showing at my doorstep like this.

"Yes, I have a delicate situation here that I am hoping you can help me with. But, you have to guarantee me you won't talk about it with anyone, especially the police, if you know what I mean."

Crane chuckles cynically. "Do not worry, we pride ourselves in our client confidentiality, no matter the crime, no matter the atrocity."

"We really should continue our discussion inside, unless you want the Others hiding around the property to relay this to their masters?" drawls Morgan in her monotone voice.

What? But, it isn't nighttime. Don't tell me they were bating me, creating a false sense of security during the day? Damn it all.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, becoming them in.

As we walk deeper into the house, I remember what Essentials said about the rules of hospitality. How for millennia, it was vital that travelers be able to stop over in strangers' houses, lest they die in the wilderness. Few sins were as egregious as a breach of genuine hospitality. To harm a guest in one’s own home, or for the guest to harm the host.

"I don't have much to eat, but please allow me to offer you a glass of water, for the sake of hospitality," I said, starting on the path towards the kitchen.

"Look at him, Morgan. He even knows about the rules of hospitality. He's already doing better than the first."

Morgan nods, looking at me, my gun, and writing something down, looking at me with what almost passes for respect.

"You'll take the water then?" I ask, hopeful. It is clear that they are practitioners and this way they wouldn't be able to harm me.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll take some water."

We are a few meters away from the kitchen now, but before we can make our way into it, Dober appears in her Other form, growling, brandishing her claws.

"Who are these people, Jesse! How did they get in! They have the repugnant stink of diabolism on them!" she hisses.

Fuck, that can't be good. But, a man that has monsters crawling all over his house at night and no allies should take any help he can get.

"They are the lawyers that my family hired for the inheritance. They have agreed to see about taking care of our corpse problem."

"Jesse, is your brain full of shit?" she said, looking dumbfounded. "They! Are! Diabolists!"--she says the word like a curse--"They facilitate the destruction of the world at the hands of demons. The damage they do can not be undone. Their kind is persecuted, hounded, they are killed on sight."

Crane smiles, all charm. "Miss Boogeyman, in our defense, is dealing with The Abyss really all that better? We came here with the intention of helping you resolve whatever bind you found yourselves in. Why don't you give us that water so you can have your peace of mind and at least listen to our proposition."

"Your SWAT uniform leads me to believe you were part of the police force before you became an Other," said Morgan, using her hand to tuck her brunette hair beneath her ear. "Surely, you must know what will happen if his family's enemies, which I happen to know have their hands on the local police, find this body that was mentioned. We can safely dispose it for free, so long as you allow us to talk with your partner here."

The Doberman looks unsure, but she relents.

We all step into the kitchen and they have their drink.

Once that is settled, we all sit around the fancy dinning table.

"We should inform you that we charge by hour," Morgan began, crossing one of her pantyhose-covered legs over the other, hands folded over her knee. "We will give you the first thirty minutes for free. For that period of time, you have the benefit of our advice and knowledge, and you can make requests, though we can’t promise we’ll grant them."

“If you want,” Crane said, “We can cut it short, and save the time for later this month. Once the month is over, we’ll be limited to short conversations for each month thereafter. In order to make things fair, we will start the timer from this moment onwards.”

Wasting no time, I ask my first question. "Why are you doing this, why are some diabolist lawyers dealing with my family, with me?”

“As you know you come from a family of Scourges that deals with The Abyss. Our firm is interested in stopping this by recruiting or at least getting the heirs of your family to delve into diabolism.” Crane answered.

“Why?” I asked.

"Because our benefactors do not like The Abyss taking what is theirs. They do not take kindly to the it spreading its influence and sinking its terrible fingers in the pie that is the world." he said.

"But, why would The Abyss, which I understand my family is sworn to, allow us to deal with you? Why would my family even want to delve into diabolism as well and potentially get screwed even further?"

Morgan finally chooses to speak and for the first time since I've met her, she smiles, crystal blue eyes blazing with life. It is not a nice smile, it is dark and...just not right. 

“Because there are some things even The Abyss can not stop," she declares. "Most diabolists know that the universe as we know it is just the leftovers of something far vaster. All of the materials, all of the elements that gathered to form stars and planetoids are merely the crumbs of a great feast at the hands of demons.

Morgan stands up and starts walking slowly, confidently around the table. The Doberman tracks her with her red eyes, growling all the while, but does not move to attack. Morgan ignores her completely.

"Our benefactors once helped create the universe and now work to erase it. They will erase it, they are even destroying it now as we speak and they are winning.

"Matters became too complex for your family to handle on their own--too much bad karma, you see. The Abyss only helps them so much based on how much they help it in turn. It was more economical for them to deal with us."

Morgan reaches my chair and stands behind me, arms on my shoulders. She leans down, pressing her breasts to the back of my head and whispers seductively, darkly, into my ear.

"There isn't a happy ending for you, Jesse," she chuckles. "Your karma"--she looks at my necklace--"is about thirteen lifetimes. You could work hard your entire life and only make up one of those. If you devote yourself wholly and singularly to that one task, you could maybe make up a second lifetime’s worth. Reality is not of a mind to assist you in ascending to greatness. Far easier to help the execution along and take what it can from the aftermath. Almost certainly, your karma will continue to spiral down, and down, and down, until not even The Abyss can protect you. You will die violently and ignobly, a toy used and discarded. Or..."

She caresses my hair, nails biting into my scalp.

"Or you could join us, wipe your slate, your karmic debt clean--in every respect. Assume a new role, a new name as one our lawyers and leave every part of your previous life behind. Jesse, if only you had seen the things I've seen, you would understand."

"And what, help destroy the world in a sea of hellfire and brimstone? How much time do I even have to work for you "firm".”

"No such thing," she laughs fakely, mockingly. "In the process of signing the contract you would be giving them just a foothold. And, please do keep in mind that if you don't, someone else will. You are lucky, in a sense, that we are interested in your family in particular more than most, because it is long and old--powerful. Some of our best lawyers have come from it. And...who knows, if you rise through the ranks you might even take on the name Crane or Morgan." She answered, completely dodging the second part of my question.

"I asked you how much time I'd work? Hundreds of years? Thousands?"

"That all depends on how much debt you have when you sign."

I sense she won't give me a more elaborate answer, so I move to a different, more important track. "What do you mean by foothold?"

"You would hand things of value, and they take them. Footholds. To help them climb forth from where they’ve been banished or bound, or give them a foundation to better leverage their strength. A room, a house, a pen, a sword, a companion." she said, hand trailing down to one of my breasts. I grab it and stop her.

"What's to stop you from maneuvering me into a corner so I will use the escape clause and call you to take the deal."

"Nothing," she moaned, taking a sadistic pleasure from my miserable situation. "But, we won't do that for the time being. We will do good work and help you, that is so long as you show interest in joining the firm."

I guess it's time to make my requests and be done with this. "What would the cost be of getting rid of a body and all the evidence of it pointing it to me, as well as arranging a delivery service for some food and essentials like soap, shampoo, etc. Everything an average person needs."

Crane chips in. "The cost would be you reading this book here." The cover reads Black Lamb's Blood.

"Is this a trick? What's the catch?" I ask, weary.

"It's just a book, no trick. Hopefully it will change your mind." he answers. "There's something you haven't considered, which I will tell you out of good will: even if we take care of the body, which we will tell you the location of so you can pay your visits if you wish, the police officer here is one of your enemies. He might set up things to cause you to get arrested anyways by an army of innocent's or even publicly executed, and that'll be the end of you, we'll be dealing with the next heir then."

"Can you get rid of him? What would the cost be?" I ask, my heart sinking.

Morgan is still behind me, breathing down my neck. "No. We won't do that. How about, metaphorically speaking, instead of giving you some fish, I escort you and teach you some tricks to fry some human shaped fishes. I will walk you through how to kill this enemy of yours. You'll be leaving your little pooch behind, of course." breathed Morgan.

"Why would you do this? Why not just get rid of him? Why this elaborate escort quest?"

"Because I want to see you struggle," she moans. "I want to see you fight for your life, get hurt, suffer. But, don't worry I will do everything in my capacity to get you back alive and sound of mind to the house."

"Jesse, don't do this." pleads Dober.