Meg got home late. She'd spent much of her day at the Raleigh office of the ACLU, going over case law with an old colleague.
Her uncle Ed greeted her at the door. "Thanks so much for calling. Supper's burned."
"I'm sorry I didn't call. I simply could not get to a phone." Meg shoved her hair back from her face and kicked her shoes into the hall closet. "Who cooked?"
"What difference does that make?"
"I want to know whether to weep or rejoice that I was late."
"Greg cooked."
"So I have to weep." She sighed. "I'll do it later, okay? Right now I'm too tired to cry."
"Dare I hope that you're working for a paying customer?" He led them into the kitchen and pulled out a seat for her before getting one for himself.
She dropped into it and rested her elbows on the table. Only when she completely settled in could she feel the ache in her back and the back of her neck, or appreciate how completely beat she was. "Nope. Something speculative."
"Oh. Wonderful. And how shall speculative pay the rent?"
Meg eyed him warily. He wore a half-smile on his face but it wasn't the sort of half-smile she'd come to associate with encouragement. It was more along the lines of "Meg's lost her mind again; what is she thinking this time?" She said, "I wanted to talk to you about that."
"I'm sure."
"This . . . case . . . has the potential to turn the situation in North Carolina around."
"I see. You're petitioning God for a miracle. And for that I'm expected to forgo another month of rent on your room."
"Well, it would help a lot." Meg sighed. "I know this is awkward. But listen. I think I have the solution to all of North Carolina's problems with the Hellraised." She shook her head and waved a hand in negation. "Let me try that again. I think I may have a partial solution that could greatly lessen North Carolina's problems with the Hellraised. I don't want to allow myself to fall into hyperbole."
"Never that," her uncle said, and rolled his eyes. "So what is this tremendous idea?"
"I want to work with my old colleagues in the ACLU to file an antidiscrimination suit on behalf of North Carolina's Hellraised."
Ed's eyes widened. "You want to do what?" That response, at least, was pure disbelief, completely without the affectation of ennui that Ed put into almost everything else.
"I want the ACLU to file an antidiscrimination suit on behalf of North Carolina's Hellraised," Meg repeated.
"Dear God. Megan, half the people in this state are already convinced lawyers are in league with Satan. You want to prove their case?"
"Ed, hear me out. There's a method to my madness."
He nodded. "My meticulous lunatic. I'll wager your friends always refer to you as the quiet one."
"Depended on what kind of friends they are. Come on. Give me a chance to explain."
"Dar-r-r-rling . . . as if I'd let you leave this room without an explanation."
She perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward. "Answer me this. What happens when two hostile and disparate cultures are forced to coexist due to mutual self-interest?"
"Bosnia. The Democratic party."
She ignored the jibe. "Two things can happen. Either the two integrate, forming a new culture, or they clash, and one culture is destroyed."
Ed rested his chin in his hand. Withholding commitment, she thought. "Humans and the Hellraised. I see where you think you're going, but in this case your point doesn't apply. The Hellraised are incapable of harming human beings. And, from what I understand, there isn't a great deal we can do to them either."
"Exactly! So what is the result?"
He thought for a moment. "Continuous conflict."
"With no peace for anyone. And remember, while the Hellraised can't directly harm us, they can create situations where we might harm one another, by using our own stupidity and prejudices against us."
"No one denies that the Hellraised can be dangerous."
"And will continue to be so. Unless an alternative exists."
Meg watched his brow furrow. Good, that means he's intrigued. "What kind of alternative?" he said.
"You remember Glenda, the ACLU paralegal I got along with so well? She and I did a search of the Internet and found and downloaded the contract that God—or Heaven—made with the Hellraised. It's short, to the point, and as far as I can tell, rife with loopholes."
"You have a copy."
"You bet." She dug the folded paper from her pants pocket and unfolded the single-spaced pages. She studied them again briefly, still unable to believe what she'd found. The complete printout read:
From: honorial@data###proc.chrstn.hvn.aftrlif.net (Honorial, Chief of Data Processing, HeavenNet)
Received: from hellex.hellwire.info.net by x1.hellwire.info.net for ;
Fri, 8, Oct 15: 14: 10 -0400)
Received from HEAVEN.aftrlif.net by x1.hellwire.info.net; Fri, 8, Oct 14: 17: 41 -0500
Return path: honorial@data.proc.chrstn.hvn.aftrlif.net
To: lucifer.the.fallen@chrstn.hell.aftrlif.net
Subject: Operation Tarheel Message-ID:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Command from On High
By order of the God of Heaven and Earth, Creator of All Things, Eternal Parent of the Infinities, Bringer of Joy and Hope, Master of all the Realms—
O fallen angel who is anathema to me, you whose name shall not pass my lips until you have humbled yourself before me—
By my order and on my express command and through the intercession of my daughter, Dayne Teresa Kuttner, you shall send forth out of Hell, under my parole, exactly fifty-eight thousand eight hundred fifty-one fallen angels, devils, demons, and assorted members of the lower orders of Hell's crawling vermin into the state of North Carolina—this number being exactly one one-hundredth of the human population in that state at the instant of my reckoning.
Unchained denizens of Hell must obey the following rules:
—They will neither inflict, nor pay to have inflicted, any physical harm on any human.
—They will not parent a child with a human, either with or without the human's consent.
—They will not steal by supernatural means.
—They will not cause any disease or plague, nor will they act as the agents through which any disease or plague is transmitted.
—They will not impersonate a minister, God, or angel of God, or any divine messenger of God.
—They will not cause any virgin births.
—They will not leave the State of North Carolina.
The Unchained denizens of Hell may:
—Lie, tempt, deceive, mislead, and otherwise carry out the usual agenda of Hell.
—Impersonate human beings if that is within their nature and capacity.
—Own property, become citizens, hold offices, own and operate legal businesses, marry humans—if the humans are apprised of their true nature beforehand and no intimidation is used—and in all other legal ways approved by the State of North Carolina attempt to achieve a normal life on Earth.
—Enter into binding contracts with human beings—with one of the two following stipulations:
1) The human must be fully apprised of the nature of the contract and the nature of all parties involved in the contract; or,
2) The human must sign the contract with his own blood. (Percentage of blood to inert materials not specified; blood must be less than twenty-four hours old in Earth-sequential time only, as per previous agreements between Heaven and Hell; human must know that blood has been drawn; no blood from blood donorship or other merciful blood collection agencies, or from accidents and injuries may be used. )
—Repent.
Unchained denizens of Hell must:
—Eat and drink mortal food, or their Earthly bodies will wither and fail, and they will have to pay Heaven for new ones. Heaven will charge a cost-per-body fee plus punitive wastage tax for any Earthly bodies above and beyond the one that will be issued free from Heaven per Hell-soul at the time of exit from Hell—this will be collected by the usual revenue methods. These Heaven-issued Earth-bodies will be indistinguishable from the individual Hellspawn's normal form and will have all the Hellspawn's usual abilities excluding those which would run counter to the above decrees.
—Obtain their sustenance in the normal mortal way—that is, by growing food or paying for it with cash or barter.
Meg shook her head and handed the document over to her uncle.
Ed read over it, his expression more bemused by the second. "I wonder if it's legitimate."
"As far as anyone could tell, it was. The appended text at the top of the file, which I didn't print, said something about a hacker who received a post not too long after the Unchaining that had been routed through hellwire. info. net, who started trying to e-mail the addresses until he finally got an answer. According to the post, Heaven didn't get back to him, though his message didn't bounce, so he assumed it was received. Hell, however, sent proselytizers to his door and put him on all its mailing fists and kept finding him no matter how often he changed his e-mail address. He finally, according to the story, had to drop off the Internet entirely and move out of state."
"I've ended up on mailing lists like that," Ed said.
"Someone told the Jehovah's Witnesses once that I wanted personal visitation; I've always suspected it was the husband of a client of mine whose divorce I handled. That was almost as bad. Anyway, the stipulations that I find most interesting are those that suggest the Hellraised have permission to settle down and live normal lives here—and the hardcopy proof that they're allowed to repent."
"Why?"
"Because if they're given a chance to live normal lives, maybe they'll repent. If they repent, they aren't a problem anymore. I want to tie in this lawsuit with the devil who is participating in the Great Devil Makeover at WKTU."
"I thought that was a publicity stunt."
Meg shrugged. "It might have been, though Dan sounded sincere when he talked it up on his show. I still have to discuss this with Dan, and with the devil, whose name is Puck. I have to assume that Puck is a likely candidate for repentance—he's been given a second chance here on Earth and if I can take the calls Dan fielded over the air as any indication, he has a lot of people who are rooting for him."
"That's hard to imagine."
"People want to be able to hope that things will get better. If he defects, they can work toward gaining other defectors." Meg leaned forward in her chair, excited all over again in spite of her weariness. "To encourage this, we have to sweeten the pot as much as possible. First, he must be able to hold a job. A legal one. He needs to get a green card or a social security number, pay taxes, contribute to the welfare of the state. He needs to have a place to live that he can pay for himself. An antidiscrimination suit and some good publicity will help a great deal."
Ed sat in the chair across from her, his eyes closed.
"What do you think?"
He shook his head. "Give me some time, Meg."
"How about the rent?"
He sighed. "I'll let it go another month. This at least pretends to be a worthy cause, though I don't imagine you'll accomplish anything."
"Thanks."
Greg came into the kitchen, kissed Meg on the top of the head, and kissed Ed in passing. "Couldn't you even take it out for her?"
"I didn't want to feed her madness." When Greg gave him raised eyebrows, Ed said, "She's lost her mind. I was just listening to the tale."
Greg grinned at Meg. "You want to hear about lost minds, you should have Eddie tell you about his day."
Meg raised an eyebrow. "Bad?"
"Worse than usual. One of my bank tellers is almost due. The vixen waited until today to tell me she'll be taking twelve weeks of family leave after the birth. My chief loan officer is still laid up with a broken leg, so the bank is shorthanded for the rest of the month."
She winced. Ed's bank was busy with a full complement of staff—one of the few businesses in Raleigh that hadn't suffered a severe drought after the advent of the Hellraised. "Sorry. I know how hard that makes things."
Greg placed a plate in front of her, then took a chair next to Ed and rested his head on Ed's shoulder. "We've been up to our asses in alligators today."
Meg started eating. The food melted in her mouth. She murmured, "God, Greg, when are you going to open your own restaurant?"
He laughed. "Probably when Hell goes back where it belongs. Eddie's not exactly being loose with his venture capital right now."
Meg laughed. "He's a Republican, Greg. He was born being tight with his money."
"That's why I still have some."
Meg smiled at her uncle. "I know." A thought occurred to her. "Um . . . with you being shorthanded at the bank right now, what do you think the chances are that you might be able to give Dan's devil a job?"
"The proverbial snowflake in Hell would do better."
"Yeah. I thought I'd ask anyway. Do you know anyone who might give him a job?"
"Well, the IRS is always looking for a few good men."
"Not funny."
"I thought it was."
"He'll need to do something that will improve his reputation, not make it worse." Meg sighed. "You know more about the business community than anyone I know. Assuming they sought employment, what are the chances the Hellraised could find jobs?"
"Microscopic at best." Ed rubbed his chin. "They'll have to manage in the traditional 'unwelcome immigrant' fashion."
"Which is?"
"Go into business for themselves."
"Where would they get the money?"
Ed leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he looked over at her and smiled. "Now I can give you good news. I know people who would offer their firstborn as collateral if there is profit to be made. And if the right opportunity came along."
"We'll be trying to avoid deals of that nature, but if you can keep those people in mind, and if, after I've talked with Dan and Puck, I can come up with a suitable project, would you help me put it together?"
"For the good of the state—and my own business, of course—I'll certainly consider it."