Chapter 34
Josiah straightened in his chair, shock whitening his face as he clapped a hand over the rent in his armor and the grievous injury that no longer existed. Other than his damaged garments and the paleness of his complexion, he looked exactly the same as he had before his second stabbing of the day.
His second stabbing so far, Gwen mentally corrected herself. Who was to say that Josiah wouldn’t be stabbed a third time? Maybe they’d all get a turn before nightfall.
The elderly Fate nudged his hand aside and bent to lay her palm over his chest, her frown of concentration deepening her wrinkles into topography. After a moment, she stepped back and leaned heavily on her cane.
Her pat on his arm contained an entire galaxy of condescension. “All done, former Councilor.”
Josiah tried again to speak, to shout, but no noise emerged from his gaping mouth.
Despite Gwen’s relief that the fae’s threat to her life—to the lives of Supernaturals and humans everywhere—was over, she shrank back into her chair at the sight of such a powerful being rendered so very helpless.
At the prospect that she and everyone else at her table might receive his same punishment before leaving this courtroom.
She hadn’t chosen to enter the Realm Below, but she’d done so regardless. Even worse, Hugh had deliberately trespassed into Death’s restricted territory, and Eloise had knowingly violated the terms of her afterlife assignment.
There was no point in attempting to flee. Josiah’s inability to resist his demise had certainly demonstrated that much.
Hugh’s slim fingers slipped through hers, and he held her hand in a comforting grip as they awaited their fates. Meanwhile, Death sipped from his Starbucks mug, boredom written all over his face, and watched Josiah continue to shout soundlessly.
“I think you’ll find”—Death tossed back a final sip before continuing—“that you’ll speak in our courtroom only when we wish you to do so. Let us begin, shall—wait.” His brow furrowed, and his gaze redirected to Eloise. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Gwen cringed, but Eloise only smiled cheerfully at Death.
“Dottie said I could take today off.” Eloise raised a hand, palm out, as if forestalling any possible complaints. “She promised me she’d sleep late, not leave the house until my return, and refrain from eating more snakes.”
“Hmmm.” Death eyed her askance, but he eventually turned back to Josiah. “In that case, we shall begin. Welcome to your afterlife trial, Josiah Goodling.”
“You…” When the fae spoke this time, they could actually hear him. “How dare you—”
Eloise quietly giggled at his outraged expression when his voice went silent again.
Death conferred wordlessly with the Fates before asking his first question. “Tell us, former Councilor Goodling: Why did you intrude upon the sacred grounds of the Realm Below?”
When the fae didn’t respond immediately, Death sighed, and another, larger Starbucks mug materialized in his hand.
“You have no other choice but to speak truthfully, Goodling. You could bite off your tongue, and it wouldn’t matter.
You’d still answer me, however incriminating that answer might prove. ”
“A…significant…faction…” The words emerged one by one, torn from Josiah’s unwilling mouth, until he finally conceded defeat.
“I, along with a significant faction of the fae—those of us most gifted with rightful power and wealth—wish to cease our current cooperation with humans and other Supernaturals. We reject the authority of SERC over our actions.”
Under the table, Eloise made an unmistakable jerking-off gesture, and Gwen had to roll both lips between her teeth to stop herself from giggling.
Death side-eyed Eloise again but eventually returned his attention to Josiah, who was still reluctantly explaining himself.
“Our faction has entered into a secret bargain with a splinter group within the common human government.” Josiah’s lip curled into a derisive sneer.
“The dimwits consider all Supernaturals and Enhanced humans untrustworthy and a threat to their supposed supremacy, but they’re willing to cooperate with my species until we’ve accomplished a common goal: inciting a worldwide conflict pitting common humans and the fae against all others. ”
The battlefield of Gwen’s visions sprang to life in her imagination—burning pyres of lifeless bodies in careless piles—and she swallowed against the bitter taste of bile. Hugh’s fingers tightened around hers in a comforting squeeze while Eloise patted her knee soothingly.
“Once we emerge triumphant and all other beings with any power have been erased from existence, our common human allies clearly believe they can break our agreement and exterminate us as well.” Josiah scoffed.
“But the fae can and will easily rule over all remaining common humans, whose pitiful lives will provide our immortality.”
No wonder the fae conspirators had been quietly buying up land within the Containment Zone.
After zombies had cleared out the Zone, it would serve as a cheap, strategically situated power base during the subsequent wars.
The first would be fought in alliance with common human insurrectionists. The second, fought against them.
The area was already very defensible against a ground invasion, given the walls and moats. And it lay extremely close to the nation’s centers of power and military resources, which the fae would undoubtedly want to claim for themselves when they turned on their former allies.
“You’ve admitted your schemes and described your foolish, fascist imaginings, but you still haven’t answered my initial question.” Death leaned forward, pronouncing every syllable with crisp emphasis. “Why did you intrude upon the sacred grounds of the Realm Below?”
Before Josiah could be forced to answer, Death’s attention shifted to the bespectacled Fate on his right, then the mahogany-skinned Fate to his left, and he fell silent.
“So it shall be,” he eventually said, and turned back to Josiah.
“I need to bring this trial to a close, because all four of us are technically still on vacation. To make matters simpler, then, let me answer for you: You’ve been holding oracles captive in my proprietary territory.
First, so their visions wouldn’t prevent your plans from coming to bloody fruition.
Second, to benefit from their prophetic guidance yourself. Is this summary incorrect in any way?”
If Death knew about the kidnappings, why hadn’t he bothered to intervene? To protect his given Realm, if for no other reason?
Gwen sat back in her chair, fuming, and it scraped audibly against the floor. Hugh shot her a concerned look, and he shook his head slightly.
To no avail, because after Death acknowledged Josiah’s reluctant, muttered no, the open-shirted judge met Gwen’s eyes for the first time. To her immediate and heartfelt regret.
When he spoke, though, his tone was surprisingly apologetic.
“There was no security in or near your original prison, oracle Wexloff. An unfortunate bit of carelessness and arrogance on my part, as I assumed no one would dare trespass into my domain, even in an abandoned area, and I hoped to save the Realm’s resources for our ongoing digitization project. ”
At Gwen’s nod of understanding, he continued.
“When you and your compatriots moved to a new space, however, my security system alerted us to your presence and summoned us from our vacation. You escaped from that secondary location before we completed our internal investigation into the intrusion, however. And met my puppy along the way.” Death’s smile turned soft and sweet.
“He thanks you for his sandwich, incidentally.”
She blinked at him, startled. That waist-height, slavering creature of darkness was a puppy? Just how freaking big would Death’s pet get?
“We observed your confrontation with Josiah this morning to gather as much pretrial information as possible, and we were already poised to interrupt when Councilor Blacke took his”—Death gave a disapproving sniff—“precipitate actions.”
In response to Eloise’s glare, he actually winked at her.
“To return to the current matter at hand: I believe we’ve now heard and seen enough to issue a verdict.” Death seemed to grow taller, and his voice resonated with gods-and-goddesses-given authority. “Former Councilor Josiah Goodling, you—”
“My apologies for the interruption, Your Honor.” To Gwen’s utter dismay, Hugh let go of her hand and stood. “I respectfully request permission to ask three questions of the defendant. I promise to be as brief as possible.”
She glared up at him, mentally ordering him to sit his very fine ass down again, but he remained standing and waited to be acknowledged by the judges.
To her vast relief, Death didn’t smite Hugh.
Instead, he simply took another long drink from his still-steaming mug and flicked his hand in irritated permission.
“As I understand matters,” Hugh told Josiah, “you and your allies loosed zombies within the Containment Zone and planted false evidence that demons had caused the breach. If humans had learned of this supposed demonic perfidy, all hells would have broken loose, and you’d have accomplished your goal of inciting a worldwide, interspecies war. Is that correct?”
“Y—” The word eventually emerged in a groan, as if torn from Josiah’s tongue. “Yes. Th-that’s correct.”
“Then Gwen and I, along with several other Zone residents, interfered with the breach site. You no longer had sufficient evidence of Supernatural or Enhanced involvement in the breach and thus lost your opportunity to start a war.” Hugh paused.
“Now you’ve made plans to stage a mass-casualty event at a parade and blame it on a witch-werewolf alliance. Is that also correct?”
After another reluctant affirmation from Josiah, Hugh looked down at Gwen. “Did the oracles’ collective visions offer enough guidance to prevent that incident?”
“I believe so,” she told him after a moment of thought. “Yes.”