The coffee shop on Fifth Avenue was the kind of place Emily couldn't normally afford. Twenty-dollar lattes and pastries that cost more than her lunch budget for a week. But when Lucifer Morningstar texted her an address at 9 PM, she didn't have much choice but to show up.
The rain hadn't stopped. If anything, it had gotten worse. Emily's ancient umbrella had finally given up completely, leaving her soaked by the time she pushed through the glass doors. The warm air hit her face, thick with the smell of expensive coffee and something else. Vanilla maybe. Or cinnamon.
Lucifer sat in a corner booth, looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. Not a single drop of rain on his perfect suit. His black hair was still styled perfectly, not a strand out of place. The golden eyes that had seemed unusual in daylight now looked almost supernatural under the soft cafe lighting.
"You came." He gestured to the seat across from him. "I wasn't entirely certain you would."
"Yeah, well." Emily slid into the booth, her wet coat squeaking against the leather. "Desperate times and all that."
A waitress appeared immediately. Young, blonde, with the kind of smile that said she made more in tips here than Emily made in a month.
"What can I get you?" the waitress asked, but she was looking at Lucifer.
"Coffee. Black. Whatever's cheap." Emily pushed her wet hair back from her face.
"The lady will have our signature blend," Lucifer said smoothly. "And perhaps one of those chocolate croissants. You look like you haven't eaten today."
The waitress nodded and practically floated away. Emily noticed she didn't write anything down.
"I can buy my own coffee."
"With what money?" Lucifer's smile was gentle, but there was something sharp behind it. "Emily, let's not pretend you're here because you have options. You're here because you don't."
That stung because it was true. Emily's phone had been buzzing with calls from creditors all day. She'd stopped answering after the fourth one.
"So what's this about? Your impossible promise?"
"It's not impossible. It's just expensive."
The coffee arrived faster than should have been humanly possible. The waitress set down a cup that looked like it belonged in an art museum. The croissant was still warm, flaky layers that smelled like butter and heaven.
Emily's stomach growled loud enough for Lucifer to hear.
"Eat first," he said. "We have all night."
"Do we?" Emily took a sip of coffee. It was perfect. Of course it was. "I've got an eviction notice to deal with and about fifty other fires to put out."
"All of which become irrelevant after tonight."
Emily bit into the croissant. It practically melted on her tongue. When was the last time she'd eaten something that wasn't from a vending machine or a dollar menu?
"Okay, I'm listening. What exactly are you offering?"
Lucifer leaned back in his seat. His fingers drummed against the table, a soft rhythm that somehow matched the rain against the windows.
"Complete victory. Every case you take, you win. Every argument you make becomes irrefutable. Every jury sees things your way. Every judge rules in your favor."
"That's not how the legal system works."
"Isn't it?" Lucifer tilted his head. "Think about it, Emily. What makes one lawyer better than another? Preparation? Intelligence? Charisma? What if you had all of those things, amplified beyond normal human limits?"
Emily set down her coffee cup. "You're talking about cheating."
"I'm talking about winning. There's a difference."
"Not really."
"Tell that to Maria Santos. Tell that to every client who lost because their lawyer wasn't good enough, wasn't smart enough, wasn't ruthless enough to beat the system."
Emily's chest tightened. She thought about Maria's baby, about all the other cases she'd lost. All the people she'd failed.
"What's the catch?" she asked. "And don't say there isn't one. Nobody offers something like this for free."
Lucifer's smile widened. For a moment, his teeth looked sharper than they should be.
"Smart girl. You're right, of course. There is a price."
"How much money?"
"Not money."
Emily waited. Outside, the rain kept falling. The coffee shop was warm and quiet, insulated from the real world. It felt like they were in a bubble, separate from everything else.
"For every case you win," Lucifer said slowly, "someone dies."
The words hit Emily like ice water. She blinked. "What?"
"Balance, Emily. For every life you save through legal victory, another life ends. It's simple mathematics."
"You're joking." But even as she said it, Emily knew he wasn't. There was something in his eyes, something ancient and serious.
"I never joke about business."
Emily pushed back from the table. "You're insane. You're talking about murder."
"I'm talking about justice. Do you know what happened to the lawyers who beat you today? Richard Blackwood and his team?"
Emily shook her head, but she was starting to feel sick.
"They celebrated at a restaurant that costs more than your monthly rent. They toasted to destroying a single mother's chance at justice. They laughed about how easy it was to crush you in court."
"That doesn't mean they deserve to die."
"Doesn't it?" Lucifer's voice was soft, almost hypnotic. "They spend their lives protecting companies that poison water supplies, that build unsafe buildings, that destroy families for profit. How many people die because of their victories, Emily?"
"That's different."
"Is it? You save one life, they die saving another. The scales balance. Justice is served."
Emily stood up. Her legs felt shaky. "This is crazy. You're crazy. I'm leaving."
"Sit down."
Something in his tone made her freeze. It wasn't a request.
"Please," Lucifer added, and his voice was normal again. "Sit down, Emily. Let me show you something."
Against her better judgment, Emily sat.
Lucifer reached across the table and touched her hand. His skin was warm, almost hot.
"Close your eyes."
"I don't think—"
"Close them."
Emily closed her eyes.
Immediately, images flooded her mind. She was in a courtroom, but not the shabby downtown courthouse where she usually practiced. This was the Supreme Court of New York. Marble columns, high ceilings, packed galleries.
She was standing at the plaintiff's table, but she looked different. Her hair was perfectly styled. She wore a tailored suit that probably cost more than her car. When she spoke, the entire courtroom hung on her words.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," her voice rang out clear and confident, "justice is not a luxury that only the wealthy can afford."
The jury nodded. Every single one of them. The defense lawyers looked panicked. The judge was leaning forward, clearly impressed.
Emily watched herself destroy the opposition. Every argument was perfect. Every piece of evidence was devastating. When the verdict came back, it was unanimous.
Victory.
But more than that. As she walked out of the courthouse, reporters surrounded her. Cameras flashed. People cheered. She was famous. Successful. Important.
"The Emily Rose case will change everything," one reporter said. "She's the lawyer who never loses."
Emily opened her eyes. She was back in the coffee shop. Lucifer was watching her with those gold eyes.
"How did you do that?"
"Magic has many names. What matters is what you saw."
Emily's hands were shaking. "That wasn't real."
"It could be. Tomorrow, if you want it."
"And all it costs is someone's life."
"All it costs is one person who probably deserves to die anyway."
Emily stared at him. "How do you know they deserve it?"
"Trust me. I'm very good at judging character."
The coffee shop suddenly felt too warm. Emily could hear her heartbeat in her ears.
"I need to think about this."
"Of course you do." Lucifer pulled out his wallet and left cash on the table. More than the bill, Emily noticed. Much more. "Take all the time you need."
"How much time do I have?"
"Until you need me."
Emily frowned. "What does that mean?"
But when she looked up, Lucifer was gone. Just gone, like he'd never been there. The only sign he'd existed was the cash on the table and the lingering scent of something that might have been sulfur.
Emily grabbed the money. Five hundred dollars in crisp hundreds.
More than she'd seen at one time in months.
She looked at the business card again. The gold lettering seemed to shift in the light. As she watched, words appeared on the back that hadn't been there before.
"Tomorrow, 42nd Street. You'll know when."
Emily stared at the card until the words faded. When she looked around the coffee shop, the other customers were going about their business like nothing had happened. The waitress was refilling someone's cup. A businessman was typing on his laptop.
Normal. Everything was normal.
Except for the impossible offer from a man named Lucifer, and the vision of a life where she never lost.
Emily pocketed the money and the card. Outside, the rain was finally starting to slow.
As she walked to the subway, she tried to convince herself that none of it had been real. Stress, she told herself. A hallucination brought on by exhaustion and desperation.
But the five hundred dollars in her pocket felt very real.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, she was tired of being the lawyer who always lost.