"... Alright, then here's my proposal. This is just broad-strokes, general stuff. Hell-law says I have to do you a service and that you have to pay me in sex, so how about this:

I help you with your personal life, gather information for you, and get to sleep with whoever's willing to in exchange. I mean literally I would go to bars and things, sleep with witches as your informant gathering rumors and connections, and the opportunity to do that and have that sex is what you're primarily paying me with. I'll agree to reasonable restrictions on my actions - no deliberate harm to anyone and no lying to you are the main ones I think you'd want - and in exchange I'll make reasonable efforts to aid and assist you. I will explicitly agree to, at minimum, provide you with enough Witch Kisses to sustain my upkeep without being a constant drain on your mana. Either you'll let me earn money independently to get my own housing or you'll let me house with you. If you let me house with you I'll pay my share of rent."

...Cytherea's existence is not actually draining her mana. Is it supposed to? Her wells of power do not seem to have diminished, she just feels abnormally tired.

"The standard seems to be literal slavery. I'm willing to be better than my civilization, but not so much better that everyone rips me off all the time. Also I expect that were Liath to come calling, you would drop everything to cross me instantly."

"Rather than reasonable efforts to aid and assist, commit to obeying me as long as you're summoned."

She expects Cytherea to counterpropose rather than just snap that up, but maybe she's underestimating how desperately bad Hell is.

"What, and be compelled to harm myself if you say so? You can do better than that."

"There are a lot of things that could be said to harm you in some indirect or negligible way. I will commit to making your life at least fifty percent better than it is in Hell, as you see it, and you can opt out of this contract with twenty four hours' notice."

"No deliberate infliction of physical pain on me, on pain of breaking the arrangement. Sending me back to Hell doesn't count against that, despite the obvious. No obligation to do anything involving Outsiders including fight them. Nothing that could destroy my soul. The rest is reasonable."

"—I expect that you can trick me into deliberately causing you some minor pain. Not sure how, but it wouldn't surprise me. I won't try to torture or physically abuse you. Your other terms are fine once converted to contract language."

"Less airtight than I'd prefer, but I guess we both are going to have to trust each other a little."

She looks over at Lily. "There are standard contract clauses for no torture or abuse, honesty to the summoner, do-no-harm, etc. Check the Standard Consortation Reference by Hawthorne Publishing, whatever the latest edition is, "standard sections." The broad long-term informant contract is unusual, but the housing clause should exist for use in long-term contracts."

Lily looks up the relevant contract sections and brings the laptop over so Marianne can read them over and help her draft the final document.

She sits beside Lillian and does her best to airtighten things.

Cytherea remains still in the circle, tapping her black-nailed fingers against her knee.

The terms of the contract in plain language come out to be:

— Generalized obedience to Marianne or Lillian.

— Honesty and fairness in trade with Marianne.

— No withholding information thought to be relevant or useful.

— No fighting Outsiders.

— No plausibility of soul death.

— No deliberate harm dealt unto others by Cytherea.

— No physical torture or abuse unto Cytherea.

— Cytherea cannot be forced to make or amend contracts.

— Freedom outside the terms of the contract.

They don't own a printer, so she kind of just puts the laptop in Cytherea's lap and indicates a place to sign.

Cytherea types her name and stretches. "There. A done deal."

And she sighs.

"Alright then, guess I've gotta fess up. I know a better method for reaching your magic than asking Liath."

"Welcome to America."

"And whatcha got?"

"I assume you girls have done the standard test to check if you're just really weak, right?

"Trying to substantiate a Kiss? Yes."

"And it didn't work?"

"Yeah. I... am quite sure I have mana. And the necessary other systems in place. It just doesn't... actually answer me."

"You might need a crutch. - formally an "implement", but everybody will call it that. Something spelled to help mana flow. There are diagrams in the Hawthorn Healer's Handbook, Sixth Edition, under "medical implements". It'll take someone with some skill at Runes to get a good one but you can check quickly with something basic."

Lily takes the laptop back and searches up the relevant diagram.

"I could make this, but it takes ingredients I don't have. Nothing that rare, just stuff I'd have to go to the grocery store to get."

... She looks over at Cytherea. "We could send her."

She feels skeevy about telling a slave to get her groceries. She identifies the emotion, clamps down on it, and crushes it until there's nothing there.

"Yeah okay. Please get the groceries Lillian tells you to." She points at the CVS bag. "Makeup's there — also you're quite well-read. I can see that I'm using your time poorly and I apologize, but needs must."

Marianne sits next to Lily and rests her head on her shoulder.

In a moment, Cytherea's red skin tone and horns vanish completely, replaced by a still beautiful but very human-looking woman. "The makeup won't be necessary." 

She smiles at Marianne. "You can communicate telepathically with me whenever you want." Like this. "I'll tell you when I've gotten the groceries. Lillian, money? 'Do no harm' includes theft, unfortunately."

Lily peels a few bills out of Marianne's wallet and passes them over to Cytherea. "I assume you have pockets."

"I can fake them well enough. Are you going to give me keys to the apartment?"

"No. Knock when you come back."