“What are the chances,” I speculated, bouncing off the steel of Mayari’s bunker in low gravity, “we’d have the numbers to fight a war if we busted in and released everyone from suppression at once?”

I landed back on my feet with only slight unsteadiness, feeling pleased with myself for sticking the landing and for making it back to a dimension larger in volume than a few football fields. I’d dropped the Shitface imitation and had spent the last ten minutes switching indecisively between various human forms, unable to settle on a preference. After the events of Facility J, I felt restless and fidgety as we waited for Janus’ beacon to reset, impatient to complete the job. Tez couldn’t get a clear reading on it due to seer interference, and if it took much longer I wouldn’t be able to hang around.

“Don’t know,” said Tez. At Mayari’s instruction, he’d refurbished a new room off to the side, and was busy lining it with materials and equipment the moon goddess passed to him on rough sketches. “You won’t do it. Not anytime soon, at least.”

“We have passes. If we did –”

“But you won’t,” he interrupted, pausing mid-creation. The unidentifiable hunk of metal he’d been working on fell to the ground with a ringing clang. “Because it’s a terrible idea. Even you know that. It’s not going to be a war. It’ll be confused, disoriented employees against a backdrop of total disorganisation, and the full wrath of management against them.”

“Is that what you see?”

“No, it’s a guess. Because it won’t happen.”

He was right, of course. I wasn’t keen on risking our position unless we could do our best to guarantee a positive result. It still grated.

“Tch,” I said, and went to check on my holding cell in Singapore, materialising in as a mosquito on top of the cast-off thing that had once been my body. Nothing seemed to have changed since I’d left, except that the occupant next door had fallen asleep and started snoring in an unholier noise than anything I could imagine the devil producing, not that I’d ever seen him asleep at his desk.

I could either wait here and be bored, or I could wait in Mayari’s workshop and be bored and run the risk of not being here when they came to let me out.

An unexpected third option presented itself before I could make up my mind, however; the fehu rune intruding on my senses with all the subtlety of a mating buzzsaw. I guessed Tru had come round to the idea of a conversation, after all.

Alright, I’m coming, I grumbled, before it could start spouting bad rap verse.

Rap Boy was waiting for me in the penthouse living room, along with two others. One, a youngish man with a well-kept head of dusty, semi-receding hair, was wearing a flouncy white priest’s gown over a blue business suit like a last-minute afterthought. Neither half of the outfit did the other any favours. In one hand he held a briefcase, of all things. His companion was older, a short, stocky woman with a smile rigid enough it might have been nailed in place, dressed in the kind of flowery fabric that would have been more at home on a sofa in a retirement village.

So it was going to be that kind of conversation.

I glanced back at Tru, who had the decency to at least look slightly ashamed. He’d showered since I’d last seen him, and now only looked a little the worse for wear. “This is –”

“The exorcism, I know,” I said, interrupting. “You couldn’t have picked a pair of practitioners who advertised it more clearly if you’d tried.”

Tru swallowed, refusing to meet my eyes. “This is it,” he said to the priest, waving his arms in my direction. Violet light glinted from his exposed palm. “Bind it. Trap it. Before it gets away!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” I made my way to one of the sofas and sat down, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. “This is my first exorcism, would you believe? I wouldn’t dream of missing out on the fun.”

“Oddly coherent for a demon,” the woman observed, the first time either newcomer had spoken up since I’d arrived. “Indicative of a strong grip on the soul.” She approached me, looming over my seat and into my personal space, and reached out to grip my chin with a hand that felt like leather-bound iron. I felt her fingers squeeze temporary indents into my cheeks. Not holding back on the fingernails, either. “We’re going to have to tie you up, my dear. For your own safety.”

“Sure,” I mumbled around the hand, running my tongue around the inside of my cheeks when she released it. “You know, if you get tired of the whole exorcist deal, you could consider a career as a dominatrix. It’s not my thing, but I can already tell you’d have an aptitude for it.”

The smile vanished. “Royce. Ties, please. And if our client would be so kind as to bring us a chair for the lady.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Tru called out, keeping his distance as he hurried towards the kitchen. “It’s not a woman. It’s not human at all. It can take any shape it wants.”

The pair of exorcists glanced at each other in a way that suggested they were unconvinced. Royce made a small cough. “Now, it’s important to note that possession can take various forms, and we won’t know -”

“Haven’t you been fucking listening? It’s not possessed. It is the demon.”

The priest tilted his head downwards, peering at Tru as if over a pair of invisible spectacles. He set his briefcase down on the kitchen island. “With all due respect, we’re experienced professionals. Let us do our job before you decide to pass judgement.”

“This one certainly displays the arrogance one sees in the possessed,” said the woman, not taking her eyes off me. “The rest we shall see soon enough.” She accepted the strips of material Royce handed her and waited for Tru to drop off the chair, which he did as far away from me as possible while still following orders. Royce picked up where he left off and moved it closer.

“Sit,” instructed Leathergrip, pointing at the chair. I sat. She stood over me and continued to loom, fabric dangling from one clenched fist, staring me down like she’d try to squash me if I moved.

I stared back.

Royce moved back towards the kitchen, reaching across the bench. “Before we begin.” He slid the briefcase across the marble island top and unlatched it, revealing a small sheaf of white papers. “Just a formality we need to get out of the way. You’ll need to sign here to accept legal liability and responsibility for any insurance costs should an injury result from the exorcism.”

A sneaking suspicion began to form in my mind.

Tru narrowed his eyes. “Why? Wouldn’t that be your fault?”

“It would if you don’t sign the waiver, from a legal position. Which is why we have one. Exorcism is high-risk by nature and our clients – not to mention the victims of possession – have often been through a lot. We wouldn’t be able to do what we do without covering ourselves.” He reached under the neck of his robe and pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket, passing it to Tru.

“So much for altruism,” the demon lord muttered. He took the pen.

“Read it carefully,” I weighed in from the chair.

“Fuck you,” said Tru. He clicked the pen on, found the spot Royce had indicated and signed.

This seemed to have been what Leathergrip had been waiting for. She bent forward on one knee and began winding one of the fabric strips around my leg.

I peered down at the process. “Do all your demons wait politely to be restrained? This seems a bit underwhelming so far.” I gave the fabric a flick with a finger. “One good set of claws would tear through this in a heartbeat.”

“The tools of true faith are simple, and hardier than their enemies would expect,” grunted Leathergrip, pulling a tie tighter than it needed to be. I could feel it slowly cutting off the blood supply to my lower leg. A fervent cadence crept into her voice as she spoke. “Cleansed in holy water. Anointed by the saviour. Anathema to the unhallowed.” Another sharp tug saw the fabric cut in further down my leg, and I dulled the feedback from the relevant nerves.

“We restrain the possessed, not the demon,” Royce explained. “The point is to drive the evil spirit up and out.”

Leathergrip pulled the last of the ties tight around my ankles and moved on to my arms, pulling them straight down by my sides where they could be bound to the frame.

“So what do I do if I get an itchy nose?” I asked her. “Are you going to scratch it for me, or do I get to sue you if you don’t? I didn’t sign a waiver.”

“You don’t have rights,” stressed Tru. He hadn’t moved from the kitchen, hovering behind the bench in short bursts of restless movement. “If you did, you wouldn’t have needed to use mine.”

Hmm, fair point. Wasn’t going to get far in mortal circles without a solid paper trail. But the exorcists didn’t know that.

“No need for concern,” said Leathergrip, ignoring my question. “Obviously we can’t make a deal affecting the possessed while they’re compromised. The demon will do everything they can to ensure they come out badly. So it’s important we expel the demon first. Then we work out an agreeable arrangement after the victim recovers.”

I curled my fingers around the chair frame as far as they’d go, which wasn’t far. “Knock them around a bit and take advantage of the resulting confusion, got it.”

“We’ll work something out to everyone’s satisfaction,” Royce reassured his client, giving Tru a pat on the back. “It’ll be fine.”

“Just horribly illegal,” I taunted them, as Leathergrip tied the last tie.

“Quiet, now,” she said, stepping back to view her handiwork. “It’ll hold.”

So what did you make him sign? I asked Lucy.