Chapter 6

Dysfunctional Family Reunion

I really didn't care what happened to Lindsey McDonald if he failed. Given who and what he worked for, I suspected that he was probably worthy of whatever punishment his "law firm" (at least, that was what they were calling themselves this century) would mete out.

On the other hand, the last time I tried to resist my brother's summons (the aforementioned 900 plus years ago), he'd killed a lot of innocents to make his point. He could be persuasive when he wanted to be. Besides, he almost certainly knew that Clytemnestra, or rather a vampire going by her name, had been walking the Earth for the past three millennia. He might be able to give me background on what she had been up to all that time. And although he and I were both estranged from our father, dear old Dad really did like me best, so he wasn't likely to try anything. With me anyway.

"OK," I said. "As long as you don't try to give me any candy, I'll go with you. But, just in case you're thinking of trying to take advantage of a helpless, 'under aged' waitress..."

I walked over to the limo, put my right hand under the body, and lifted with my legs (no need to strain my back, although any damage would repair itself in about 5 seconds). I smiled as Lindsey McDonald's eyes went wide. The limo was heavier than it looked, and I suspected that it was armored. Still, McDonald slid down to the other end of the seat as I lifted, and the driver, your standard bruiser, was hanging in his seat belt.

I lifted the left side of the limo over my head, almost tipping it over, and held it there for about 5 seconds to get my point across before letting it down gently. McDonald controlled himself well. The bruiser looked like he was about to puke.

McDonald even gave me a sardonic smile as he opened the door for me.

McDonald kept his mouth shut on the way to the local Wolfram and Hart office. That was wise on his part.

The Wolf, Ram, and Hart, also known as the Shadow Men, were older even than my father. Some said that they had been men themselves, long, long ago. But even if they'd been men once, they had long since become something else. Something ageless, powerful, and very, very patient. It was said that they had created the first slayer, and certainly the Watcher's Council belonged to them, as did their two other secret societies, the "law firm" Wolfram and Hart, and the Circle of the Black Thorn, which was more hands on.

What the Shadow Men represented was Hell, actually several hells. In fact, one of them was the hell that belonged to my uncle Hades. The rulers of these hells were of the theory that Earth and the universe it resided in was once a hell dimension itself, and only needed some patient nudging to return to that state. The rulers of other hells weren't as patient. They were of the opinion that Earth and the universe should be torn down and started over. These hells tended launch invasions through hellmouths. The hells represented by the shadow men tended to resist these invasions. One of their favorite disposable weapons were teenaged girls with superhuman strength.

But, my half-brother was the Shadow Men's chief gofer. In other words, he was their chief policy implementation specialist and leg breaker.

And if you want a leg breaker, you couldn't do much better than a renegade son of Zeus.

The limo slid up to the back service entrance. The Los Angeles office of Wolfram and Hart looked like a six storey glass building, although I knew for a fact that it was far larger on the inside than it looked on the outside.

The bruiser turned off the car and came around and held the door open for me. When I got out, he edged away from me, just a little.

Intimidation works wonders.

McDonald got out of the car and pushed the door bell. The metal door opened, and a woman answered. Dark haired, elegant, and cold. She gave McDonald a look of pure venom, and he returned the look with interest.

"Miss Rhonda Troy?" the woman said, then put out her hand without giving me a chance to answer. I took it. When I released it, McDonald looked disappointed I hadn't crushed it. "I'm Lilah Morgan."

She then looked at McDonald and gave him a smile that was saccharin covering a taste like almonds.

"That will be all, Lindsey," she said.

Lindsey McDonald's answering smile was frozen on his face. Evidently, Lilah Morgan was a more privileged associate of Wolfram and Hart, and McDonald was not a good sport about it.

It wasn't just Lilah getting to escort me to my brother that told me she outranked him. Her bruiser was bigger.

And the final clue as to their difference in rank? Lilah's bruiser shut the metal service door in Lindsey McDonald's face.

Looking very pleased with herself, Lilah Morgan led me through the mail room, a low level staff cafeteria, and into an opulent entry way. Lilah, her bruiser, and I all got into the elevator. The music was the standard Muzak interpretation of The Girl from Ipanema. The elevator doors opened again just as it was getting to the good part.

As we got off the elevator, Lilah stopped smiling, and it was apparent that, just like Lindsey McDonald, she was a flunky, just a little higher ranked flunky.

"Your...appointment...will be joining you shortly," Lilah said to me. "Can I get you anything? Tea, water, we also have a fully stocked bar."

"No," I replied. "I just want to get this over with."

Looking disappointed that she had no excuse to hang around and maybe find out a little more, Lilah Morgan shook my hand again.

"Uhm...if you need anything..." she gestured vaguely at the bruiser who had accompanied us.

"Mark," the bruiser said helpfully.

"Mark here will be able to call for it," Lilah finished. Then she walked off as "Mark" and I walked into the conference room.

As the bruiser closed the door quietly behind us, I turned and looked at him.

"So, Heracles (not exactly his name either, but it will do)," I said. "What name are you going by now?"

"I still like the Roman sounding names," Heracles said. "I'm Marcus Hamilton these days...Rhonda."