Emily woke up to the sound of voices outside her building.
At first, she thought it was just the usual morning chaos. Construction workers, delivery trucks, kids heading to school. But as she stumbled to her kitchen window with a cup of instant coffee, she realized the voices were coming from right below her apartment.
And they were all talking about her.
"...Emily Rose, the lawyer who destroyed Hudson Construction in court yesterday..."
"...sources say William Morrison's death was ruled natural causes, but the timing..."
"...biggest legal upset of the year..."
Emily peered through her blinds. A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. Reporters with cameras, a news van from Channel 7, people in suits who looked like they'd never been to this neighborhood before.
Her phone started ringing.
Emily looked at the caller ID. "New York Law Journal." She let it go to voicemail.
It rang again immediately. "Legal Tribune."
Then again. "Channel 4 News."
By the time Emily got out of the shower, she had seventeen missed calls and forty-three text messages.
Her doorbell buzzed.
Emily wrapped her robe tighter and pressed the intercom button. "Who is it?"
"Sandra Martinez from Channel 7 News. We'd love to speak with you about your victory yesterday."
"I'm not available for comment."
"Just five minutes, Ms. Rose. Our viewers want to know how a struggling solo practitioner managed to take down Morrison and Hudson Construction."
Emily released the intercom button. Through her window, she could see more people arriving. The crowd was getting bigger.
Her phone rang again. This time she answered.
"Emily Rose."
"Ms. Rose, this is Janet Chen from the Times. I'm writing a piece about unexpected legal victories and I'd love to include your story. Can we set up an interview?"
"I... how did you get this number?"
"Public record. Listen, what happened in court yesterday is the kind of David versus Goliath story that people love. You could be the poster child for justice prevailing against corporate power."
Emily hung up.
She got dressed quickly and grabbed her briefcase. If she was going to get to work, she'd have to go through the crowd.
The moment Emily stepped outside, cameras started flashing.
"Ms. Rose! Ms. Rose!"
"How does it feel to beat one of the most powerful law firms in the city?"
"What can you tell us about William Morrison's death?"
"Is it true you found evidence that Hudson Construction was hiding?"
Emily kept her head down and pushed through the crowd. Someone shoved a microphone in her face.
"No comment," she said.
"Just one question, Ms. Rose. What's your secret?"
Emily stopped walking. She looked up at the reporter, a young woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and bright red lipstick.
For a moment, Emily could have sworn she knew what the woman was going to ask next.
Something about her childhood. About growing up poor and fighting for the underdog.
"Ms. Rose?" The reporter leaned closer. "Tell us about your background. Growing up in Brooklyn, fighting your way through law school. What drives you to take on these David versus Goliath cases?"
Emily blinked. That was exactly what she'd expected.
"I... no comment."
She hurried toward the subway station, but more reporters followed.
"One more question," called out a man with a TV camera. "Do you think Morrison's death was related to the stress of losing such an important case?"
Again, Emily felt like she knew what was coming next. Something about corporate lawyers and the pressure they face.
"Corporate lawyers face enormous pressure," the man continued. "Do you think the culture of big law firms contributes to health problems like Morrison's heart attack?"
Emily stopped walking completely. Two perfect predictions in the space of five minutes. That wasn't coincidence.
"Ms. Rose?" The cameraman was still rolling. "Any thoughts?"
Emily looked directly into the camera. "I think justice speaks for itself."
She walked away before anyone could ask another question.
By the time Emily reached her office building, she had a headache and a growing sense that something was very wrong.
Her office was on the seventh floor of a building that had seen better decades. The elevator wheezed and groaned on the way up. Emily used her key to unlock the door marked "Rose Legal Services" and stepped inside.
Her waiting room was packed.
Seven people sat in chairs that hadn't been occupied in months. An elderly man in a wheelchair. A woman with two small children. A teenager with his arm in a cast.
Emily's secretary—or former secretary, since she'd had to let Angela go six months ago—sat behind the reception desk.
"Angela?" Emily stared at her. "What are you doing here?"
"You called me last night. Told me to come in this morning because you'd have work for me." Angela stood up, smoothing her skirt. "These people have been waiting since eight o'clock."
"I never called you."
"You did. Around midnight. Said you'd landed some big cases and needed help managing the client load."
Emily felt that familiar chill run down her spine. "I was asleep at midnight."
Angela frowned. "Emily, are you okay? You sounded tired on the phone, but you definitely called. You even gave me the security code for the building."
Emily had never given Angela the security code.
"Who are these people?" Emily gestured to the waiting room.
"Clients. They all called this morning after seeing the news about your case yesterday. The man in the wheelchair was hit by a city bus. The woman with the kids was fired for reporting sexual harassment. The teenager broke his arm at a construction site with no safety equipment."
Emily looked at the faces in her waiting room. People who needed help. People who'd been ignored by the system.
People she could actually help now.
"Set up appointments," Emily heard herself say. "I'll see them all today."
Angela smiled. "I already have. Your first appointment is in ten minutes."
Emily walked into her office and closed the door. She sat down at her desk and tried to make sense of what was happening.
She hadn't called Angela. She was sure of that.
But someone had. Someone who sounded like her, knew her security code, and understood exactly what kind of clients she'd want to see.
Emily opened her laptop and searched for news about Morrison's death. The story was everywhere.
"Prominent Lawyer Dies After Courtroom Collapse."
"David vs. Goliath: Solo Practitioner Defeats Legal Giant."
"Justice Prevails: Small Firm Wins Big Against Hudson Construction."
All the articles mentioned her by name. Most included a photo from outside the courthouse yesterday. In the picture, Emily looked confident, professional. Nothing like the desperate woman who'd signed a blood contract three days ago.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
"Enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame? Remember, this is just the beginning. - L"
Emily deleted the message and looked up to see Angela opening her office door.
"Your first appointment is here. Mrs. Patterson, the sexual harassment case."
Emily nodded. "Send her in."
Mrs. Patterson was a woman in her forties with tired eyes and calloused hands. She worked—had worked—as a cleaning supervisor for a downtown office building. Her boss had been demanding sexual favors in exchange for keeping her job.
"I reported him to HR," Mrs. Patterson said, sitting across from Emily's desk. "Next day, they fired me. Said I was stealing supplies."
"Do you have documentation of the harassment?"
"Text messages. Emails. Other women he did it to."
Emily listened to Mrs. Patterson's story and felt the familiar surge of power. Legal strategies flowed through her mind like water. Witness lists. Precedent cases. Settlement amounts.
But more than that, she could sense things about Mrs. Patterson that had nothing to do with the case. The woman was worried about her daughter's college tuition. She was three months behind on her mortgage. She'd been crying herself to sleep every night since she lost her job.
How did Emily know that?
"Ms. Rose?" Mrs. Patterson looked concerned. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Mrs. Patterson, I'm going to take your case. And I'm going to make sure you get everything you deserve."
"You really think we can win?"
Emily met her eyes. "I guarantee it."
After Mrs. Patterson left, Emily saw five more clients. A slip-and-fall case against a grocery store chain. A wrongful termination suit against a hospital. An insurance claim that had been denied without cause.
With each client, Emily felt more confident. More powerful. And with each conversation, she found herself knowing things she shouldn't know.
The grocery store had been covering up similar accidents for years. The hospital had a policy of firing employees right before they qualified for benefits. The insurance company had an algorithm that automatically denied certain claims.
Information that should have taken weeks of investigation was just... there. In her head. Ready to use.
By five o'clock, Emily had taken on six new cases. All of them winnable. All of them against companies or institutions that had been hurting people for years.
Angela knocked on her door. "Your last appointment is here. A reporter from Legal Weekly."
"I told the press no interviews."
"This one's different. Says she's doing a profile piece on lawyers who represent the underdog. She specifically requested you."
Emily sighed. "Fine. Five minutes."
The reporter was a woman in her thirties with short dark hair and intelligent brown eyes. She sat down across from Emily's desk and pulled out a digital recorder.
"Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Rose. I'm Catherine Webb from Legal Weekly. I'd like to talk to you about your practice."
Emily nodded. "What would you like to know?"
As soon as Catherine opened her mouth, Emily knew what she was going to say.
"How long have you been practicing law, and what drew you to representing individual clients against large corporations?"
The exact question Emily had predicted.
"Ten years," Emily answered carefully. "And I've always believed that everyone deserves good legal representation, regardless of how much money they have."
Catherine smiled. "That's admirable. Now, what can you tell me about your recent success against Hudson Construction? Some people are calling it the legal upset of the year."
Again, Emily had known the question was coming.
"I think the case spoke for itself. Hudson Construction was breaking the law, and Mr. Vega deserved justice."
"And William Morrison's death? Do you think the stress of losing contributed to his heart attack?"
This time, Emily was ready for it.
"Mr. Morrison was a skilled attorney. His death was a tragedy that had nothing to do with our case."
Catherine made notes on a pad. "One last question, Ms. Rose. You seem very confident about your abilities. What's your secret?"
Emily looked across the desk at Catherine Webb. For just a moment, she could see more than the reporter's professional facade. Catherine had grown up poor, like Emily. She'd worked her way through journalism school. She believed in holding powerful people accountable.
"My secret," Emily said slowly, "is that I never forget who I'm fighting for."
After Catherine left, Emily sat alone in her office as the sun set over Manhattan. Seven new cases. All of them against powerful opponents who had been hurting innocent people.
All of them guaranteed victories.
Emily thought about the text message from Lucifer. This is just the beginning.
She thought about Mark Harrison and his warning about supernatural patterns.
She thought about Mrs. Patterson and the five other clients who were counting on her to get justice.
Emily looked at her reflection in her computer screen. For just a moment, her eyes flashed gold.
The power was growing stronger.
The question was: what was it turning her into?