Veronica mulled something about in her mind that she just couldn't quit thinking about. She bit the tip of her pencil and chewed on the lead tip every now and again while she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes stared aimlessly at the ceiling while her mind fit thoughts and ideas together in her head.
When had Tom been cursed? And by what?
None of the records here revealed those two things. He was cursed at some point, that was for sure. But who or what had done it eluded even the great political machine that ran the Special Divisions of the Department of Homeland Security and Internal Affairs, one of which Tom still worked for.
Everyone here had their records fleshed out since the day they'd arrived. Everyone down to Veronica and Werin, the other demon who worked with the Department, had their lives prior to joining the Department investigated and recorded. Veronica hadn't been happy to learn that somebody here knew full well everything she'd done since birth, but she couldn't do a thing about it.
These people always got what they wanted.
But for Tom, his file was slim compared to even the newbies here. His life beyond the age of fourteen was almost a total mystery. His birth records hadn't ever been found, despite inquiries to just about every hospital within seven hundred miles of the place he'd been found, and more. His birthparents hadn't been found, though what was left of his foster parents had been, right where Tom had been picked up for the first time.
It was like he'd been born in the institution at fourteen and been raised by the Department into what he was now. It was a little sad to see the empty shell of a happy child shuffle in and out of the detainment center with a manilla folder in hand, coming or going.
Only a little though.
Veronica had seen sob stories worse than this one. She'd barely been touched by the hardships and misfortunes of those far more troubled than Tom. But then again, he was a different case. She hadn't seen anyone but Tom crying on a stony beach, broken and dying.
She shrugged and tossed her pencil behind her in boredom, spinning her chair toward the door. She stood up and reached for the knob, but somebody pulled it open from the other side and stopped Veronica where she was.
"Oh, just the demon I was hoping to see," three oh one thirty, lesser known as Ceria, purred as she flipped lazily from page to page in a manilla folder. Veronica breathed calmly and slowly as she backed toward the opposite wall and put her chair in front of her.
"Can I offer you a seat?" she said, gesturing toward the chair. What in the Hell was she doing here?
Ceria smiled. "Thank you." She made herself comfortable in Veronica's chair and closed the door with her foot. She flipped the lock with the tip of her shoe and then turned around to face Veronica.
There was a tense moment where Veronica's fear was palpable, and using this, Ceria spoke with measured calmness and a cheerful demeanor.
"I'd like to request a guest for a festival that is going to take place in my estate soon. Several guests actually. As a token of friendship between Hell and the United States of America, I've extended six invitations to this festival toward your organization."
"And the Director sent you to me to create a list of the guests?" Veronica offered, completely lost and a little afraid of the demon sitting before her. This was three oh one thirty. She didn't come to offer peace to the Department. She didn't come in friendship. She didn't ever come for anything but her own desired to be fucked until she was satisfied.
And she did not 'request' anything; she demanded it.
"Well, not exactly," Ceria replied, slipping a few pages out of the folder and handing them to Veronica. "I've been searching through your records to find out which of your number I want, and it comes as a very interesting fact that the one I want most is not permitted to be assigned to Hell."
"And these are his records?" inquired Veronica, looking at a page with 'Thomaz Lanzig' typed neatly across the center.
"Yes. And I would like them changed to reflect my desires," the sly demon replied, giving Veronica a very serious look.
The agent hesitated as she looked at the capital 'H' on the third page with Y/N printed next to it and the 'N' circled with a dark, heavy red pen stroke.
"I don't know if I can change this. There are off-site backups of all these records, virtual data, encrypted. Even if someone manages to be fooled by a change here, some bookie in D.C. Is going to notice that somebody ended up where they shouldn't. And then-"
"Let me put this in a less forgiving way," Ceria said, cutting Veronica's words off completely. "Thomas Lanzig will be on the list of guests allowed into Hell for the festival at my estate. Thomas Lanzig will be the first name on that list. And Thomas Lanzig will be in Hell within the year. Or as you here would say, there will be Hell to pay. And I will demand a huge sum for failure."
Veronica had to force herself to breathe. "As you wish," she said in a shallow, hollow voice.
A smile crept across Ceria's lips.
"That's what I like to hear. Now, I'll leave this here with you, and I'll go to your Director about what needs to be done to prepare the six chosen to entertain at the festival." Ceria stood to leave, but Veronica held her at the door, putting her hand on the knob as Ceria reached for it.
She had to force herself to breathe again. "I don't know what you want with Tom, but I'll let you know up front that if you kill him-"
Ceria put her hand gently on Veronica's cheek and gave her a soft, threatening smile.
"The manner of fun I choose to have with that boy is none of your concern. That is strictly between me and that curse of his."
With that, Ceria removed Veronica's hand from the door and strode down the hallway seemingly without a care in the world. Veronica could only watch her and think how impossibly difficult it was going to be to get Tom's files and backups changed in the amount of time she had. She looked down at her trembling hand.
Christ, she needed more coffee.
------------
Meanwhile, Tom was busy having his back gawked at by the other guys in the locker room at school. He had only realized that he was covered with dark indigo hickeys and dozens of lacerations from Tyrin's nails after he had decided to go to school today despite his mental and physical fatigue. Luckily, his wounds from his near-fatal adventure in Scotland were nearly healed completely.
However, it was fairly obvious that the ones from last night hadn't healed, and the general assumption was that he'd been having rough, wild sex last night until the early hours of the morning. Tom tried to dissuade his classmates from taking things too far, but of course they were exactly right.
"Dude, you seriously have like twenty hickeys all over you. What the hell did you do last night?" Alan said, putting on his gym shirt.
Tom shrugged. "You know, and don't try to blow this out of proportion. I had sex with this girl last night, and she got really physical from the start." Well, that was mostly the truth.
"Wait, does she go here? Was it Amy Silvert?" Alan pushed. Several eyes turned toward Tom then.
"No," Tom almost shouted. "No, hell no. Amy is easier than a Thai hooker. Nastier too. No, you know...it was just some girl I met out and about. We hooked up. That's pretty much it."
"Nobody gets fucked up like you did from just hooking up. What was she, a goddamn jungle cat covered in razor blades?"
"Nah, probably just a cougar, trollin' around for a young stag to pounce on, right Tom?" Victor said, laughing.
"Yeah, sure," Tom replied as they left the locker room. "She's older."
