Something stirs above us. Samual spreads his hands, face turned upward. “You see what I mean about these mortals, Elder? They have no respect. No reverence for their betters. It’s a travesty to have admitted them into your presence. Let us be done with this. Let me have them.”
Silence greets his request. Too much silence. I start to think maybe whoever is up there is actually considering turning us over to him. I glance at Stephen. I could probably put up a pretty good fight against Samual, but what about Stephen?
“Wait,” I hear myself saying. “I’m sorry. If I offended you, I apologize. But I thought this was to be a trial. A trial signifies you have some kind of judicial system, which in turn means you have laws. Evidently I broke one of those laws. I think I can justify my actions.” I wave a hand toward Stephen. “What can’t be justified is holding this man. It’s me you want. Send him back.”
Stephen shifts beside me, grabs my left hand. “I won’t go without you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t—”
“How noble,” Samual interrupts, baring his teeth. “But he stays.”
“Why? He had nothing to do with what happened.”
“Maybe. But you took two lives that day. Remember?”
God. Burke’s bodyguard. “You can’t be serious. He attacked me. I had no choice—”
Samual turns on that thousand-watt angelic smile. “No matter. Two lives were lost. Two lives must be accounted for.”
A terrible awareness stirs the hair on the back of my neck. “You had no intention of sending this man back, did you? You are a liar.”
Before Samual can reply, the rustling voice from above speaks. “If you are found guilty, both your lives are forfeit. It is the law.”
Samual looms over us. “And you will be found guilty.”
I look at Stephen. “I’m sorry.”
He grimaces and says through a tight-lipped smile, “I knew it was too easy. Just don’t be found guilty, okay?”
Suddenly the Elder interrupts. “I understand your outrage. Evidently, you were brought here under false pretenses.”
Is it my imagination or does Samual cringe a little at that? But I don’t have time to gloat. The Elder continues speaking.
“Our laws are based on concepts of justice tempered with mercy. One must be cognizant of all the facts if one is to make a just decision. You will be heard. As to facing your accusers, we have hidden our physical form from you because we are not like you and thought you might be disturbed by the difference. However, if you insist on facing us, as is your right, we will comply with your request.”
I’m not sure if I should be relieved or nervous that I’ve won this first little skirmish. One look at Samual, though, and the uneasiness fades. He’s furious. I must be doing something right.
“Please be seated,” the disembodied voice says. This time the tone is conversational, polite.
Stephen and I take seats behind the desk nearest us and look up to watch.
The thrones sparkle as if made of diamonds. First they appear empty, then gradually robes of gossamer, shaped like the human body, fill the spaces. Ghostly hands materialize from the sleeves, bare feet from the hems. Just when I begin to wonder what could be “disturbing” about their forms, the apparitions solidify and the differences become apparent.
Where the head should be, faceless skulls peer down at us through eyeless sockets. Jaws open and close continually as if of their own will. No sound emanates except a rasp, like rusted locks on a broken gate.
Explains the wind-in-the-willows sound of the voices we heard.
The seven appear identical, though the throne in the center is a bit larger than the rest and set a little above the others.
Stephen prods me with his elbow, jerking a thumb in Samual’s direction. “Think he looks like that, too, without the glamour?”
Samual casts us a poisonous glare, obviously having heard Stephen’s remark. His expression changes, though, when he addresses the tribunal. “Shall we proceed, Elder?” he asks. His tone loses its sarcastic bite.
I flinch, thinking of the joy ride that brought me here. Yikes. But as the one in the middle is nodding, his constantly moving jaw snapping closed for an instant at the motion, I put that disgusting thought out of my mind. Better concentrate on the one who seems to be in charge.
Is this Elder Samual shows so much deference to the chief justice in this astral Supreme Court?
Samual takes his place at the podium. He addresses himself to the hovering beings above us, but his eyes are on me.
“If it please your honors,” he begins. “We are here to right a terrible wrong. Our universe has always been a place of sanctuary. A place where all otherworldly creatures can come to seek shelter from whatever demons or angels hunt them. The only such place in all the dimensions, established by the ancients and sanctified by succeeding generations because it is important to create balance. Good and evil alike know they can seek refuge here. It is not our duty to judge. It is our duty to protect.”
He points a finger at me. “This woman—this vampire—violated that sacred duty. She allowed herself to be transported here with the aid of three ignorant witches, and with malice, struck down a woman recovering from life-threatening wounds. Wounds inflicted by the vampire herself. This violation was compounded when she killed the woman’s human bodyguard—an innocent not here of his own volition.
“But we can make things right. Here. Now. Restore faith in this sacred place. The man, a mortal, seated beside the murderess is the brother of one of the offending witches. Find them guilty and both will be punished according to the law. A life for a life.”
I feel Stephen’s startled reaction to Samual’s words. Up until this moment, if he had any doubt his fate was entwined with my own, he does no longer. I touch his arm in an effort to offer consolation.
He’s looking at me, eyebrows raised. “You’re a vampire?”
That’s what got his attention? I raise an eyebrow of my own.
He shakes his head. “Interesting. Well, remember what I said before? Don’t be found guilty? Goes double now.”
I nod and since Samual has taken his seat and is staring at me, I assume it’s my turn to offer opening arguments. With a final pat on Stephen’s arm, I take my place behind the podium.
Okay, time to channel my inner Jack McCoy. I just don’t know where to begin. Should I fill in the backstory? Do they already know it? Will they care?
Since who Belinda Burke was has everything to do with what happened, I take the plunge.
“It’s true. I killed the black-magic witch Belinda Burke. We had a long history. I met her first when she was raising a demon to do her bidding on Earth. Her offerings to the demon were to have been a young girl and my friend Culebra. I stopped her. But not before the innocent was sacrificed. In retribution, she turned me over to a Mexican drug lord who tried to kill me. I escaped.”
Samual rises to his feet. “Is this really necessary?” he asks the tribunal. “Does it matter what brought her here? Do we intend to temper our decision with emotion or look at the facts? And the only fact we need to consider is whether or not she killed someone under our protection. Since she admitted it, what else do we need to know?”
“It’s important you understand,” I argue. “Your laws are based on justice tempered with mercy. Isn’t that what you said? How can you determine what is right if you do not have all the facts?”
There is a rustling from above; faceless forms lean in toward one another as the tribunal confers. No sound reaches us except the continual rasping of the jaws. I tap my foot nervously awaiting their decision. If they refuse to allow me to continue, this will be the shortest trial in history. I look around for an escape route. A stupid thing to do since I have no fucking clue where we are.