“Can’t I? I would think someone being charged with such a serious crime should at least know when her trial is. Or do you mean I can’t know that because you hadn’t told anyone else yet?”
I smiled, and Alan grunted beside me. “Maybe you could have been a lawyer.” That from him was a high compliment. “He’s sweating now.”
Mr. Langley glared at me and I smiled back. “Go back to trumping up charges, asswipe. I’m not dead yet.”
“Correct,” he said in that weird marionette way of his. “‘Yet’ is the word you need to remember, Ms. O’Rylee.” He spun on one heel and stomped from the room, the sway of his hips reminding me distinctly of the realtor who’d auctioned off Gran’s house.
Monica had seemed fairly normal until she stomped outside of the house three times—stomps that packed a metaphysical wallop—and awakened something. She had a connection to the shadow world, and now this strange prosecutor had her walk. My instincts told me it was no coincidence. They hadn’t been wrong yet, so I decided to trust them and act on my gut feeling. Even if this was weirder than most of my guesses.
“Monica?” I called out.
The prosecutor spun around so fast, he had to grab the edge of the doorframe.
My jaw dropped, and beside me, Alan spluttered. “How can that be?”
I didn’t know the answer. What I did know was that somehow Monica the realtor was also Mr. Langley the prosecutor. Which did not bode well for me. The shadow world was really going for broke. It also confirmed that Davin wasn’t the only one who wanted to take me out.
The person in front of me, who was maybe two people in one, glared at me. “You need removing, and that is all there is to that.” Something had shifted, and the entity now spoke in Monica’s voice.
Edna tsked. “Something ain’t right. That one isn’t human.”
I agreed with Edna—silently. Fancy Pants sucked in a sharp breath at the voice change, but otherwise kept quiet. I’m not sure our final cell mate even noticed, as she was snoring on the cement floor.
The door slammed after the prosecutor. Him? Her? Them? Yes, them it was. They were pissed, and I didn’t really know why. Who did they work for? Because I didn’t really think that Monica/Mr. Langley was (were) the powerhouse behind this thing. More like a deliverer of bad news. A memory whipped through my mind of a man with no face. I’d met him on the same night I’d met Roderick, and even now couldn’t figure out what he’d looked like. His facial features had been a blur when I’d seen him in the hotel, and the feeling of menace that had rolled off him was nothing short of knee shaking. Was No-Face Bruce even on the council? Or was he a thug for someone there?
Could he—Bruce—be Monica?
I had no way of knowing. Just one more mystery added to the pile at my feet.
Alan stormed around the cell, hands flinging in every direction, rightly peeved that he’d been “had,” as he put it. He’d thought Monica was a woman. He’d slept with her, so of course, she was a woman. How could she be a man too? His ranting made Edna laugh.
“So you like both? I wouldn’t have pegged you as bi. You seem too uptight to be open to a back-door entrance.”
“I’m not!” he yelled back at her, and then blinked. “Wait, you’re dead too?”
She grinned. “Yes, longer than you’ve been, you switch hitter, you.” She laughed again and waggled her fingers at him. I might have laughed too if I weren’t so tired.
He spluttered and started going off about not being gay, and never being gay, and, and, and . . .
“Can you keep it down, Alan?” I snapped. “Nobody wants to listen to your homophobic tirade. Just . . . enough. I suspect they’re some sort of shifter and can be anything they want to be in a given situation. Man. Woman. Whatever works for them in the moment, or whatever the hell they feel like.”
Once more Fancy Pants gave me the side-eye. I nodded at her and then looked away.
Rubbing my hands over my face I plopped onto the closest bench, unable to do anything but wait. Wait and wonder why Monica/Mr. Langley of all people was so intent on my death. Was there really a connection to the council?
The house had gone for a decent price, so I doubted Monica’s commission was the issue. There had to be some other motivation, but my mind was too numb to turn it over. At nine in the morning, I was going on trial for a murder I had not committed, with evidence that had been fully planted. If I’d been able to, I’d have put big bucks on the trial being done by noon, and my execution wrapped up before dinner.
The afternoon slid away, and I found myself dozing, listening to Alan pace and mutter while Edna goaded him on, poking at him any way she could. Near the end of the day, as the sun was dipping low showing through the one tiny barred window that sat above our heads in our cell, and the other inmates rattling about asking for their dinner, a sound I recognized tugged at my ears.
I sat upright, my back protesting the sudden movement after lying on the hard bench for so long, muscles cold and slack. I twisted around to look at the one window that let fresh, humid air into the small cell. The flutter of gossamer wings and the tinkling of bells were music to the ragged bands of hope I had left in me.
I breathed out her name like a prayer. “Kink.”
4
The fluttering of Kinkly’s wings kept my eyes locked on the window until she appeared, all dressed in black, which was not her color. She was an autumn-toned fairy from her skin to her hair and eyes, and she normally wore various shades of browns, golds, and yellows that blended with and complemented her natural tones. The black clothing only made her four-inch stature look smaller.
“What the hell kind of bug is that? Gross!” Fancy Pants yelled and threw a shoe at Kinkly.
“Stop it!” I tried to grab the shoe in midair but ended up just knocking it to the side, which was better than it hitting the small fairy. I hurried to the window as Kinkly slid through and dropped onto my upturned palm.
I guess just like Crash, Kink made humans see her as something else.
She shuddered as she pushed on one of the handcuffs with her foot. “These are old school iron. They did that because of your fae blood. It dulls your magic.”
Damn, I hadn’t even thought about trying to magic my way out of this other than to boss the officer around. Mostly because I didn’t understand my magic or how to use it. “What’s happening? Corb said you’d tell me.”
“You know your trial is set for tomorrow?” She grimaced. “I mean, trial isn’t really the appropriate word since it’s an absolute farce and they just plan on killing you ASAP.” She drew her finger across her neck for good measure
I nodded. “I know.”
Fancy Pants came to stand at my shoulder. “Um. Are you talking to a bug?”
I turned so my back was to her and found myself staring down at the woman who still lay on the floor. She was staring up at me. “That bug talks. She’s pretty.”
Well, shit, apparently drugs could heighten the ability to see through the glamor disguising the shadow world. Not that I’m suggesting you try it. Don’t do drugs, kids, bad idea that.
Kinkly fluttered her wings, hovering over my hand. “I have a way to get you out of here.”