Five minutes later, my laptop rests in front of me, fingers hovering over the keyboard before I cave and type "Brighton supernatural community" into the search bar—the supernatural one humans can't access.
Brighton's official page loads with glossy photos of historic buildings, fancy dinners, and artisan cocktails. Standard tourist bait. Accidentally clicking on the events calendar gives me a lead. Three days are marked as visitor days for ‘restricted non-residents,’ whatever that means.
A bit more searching turns up forums and petitions filled with complaints. Brighton bans people with powers considered dark or undesirable. Only certain visitors are the ‘restricted’ kind, demons, necromancers, goblins, and a few others. They’re only legally allowed inside Brighton’s borders on the designated days every other month, which screws over everyone with lower incomes who can’t relocate to a more accepting supernatural sanctuary.
Marlow was telling the truth about Brighton. The officials there wouldn’t give him a fair trial. They’d condemn him just for being a demon.
But that doesn’t mean he’s innocent or my mate.
More online sleuthing doesn’t turn up any connection between Marlow and his victim. Doesn’t turn up much on the victim at all.
Marlow has an ancient website advertising his shady P.I. services, and I have no idea what to make of the glowing five-star reviews. Some mention no one else being willing to help, which tracks, since blackmail and extortion aren't standard offerings for legitimate private detectives. But something doesn’t add up. Other reviews mention Marlow slashing his rates for clients who couldn't afford to pay. One review from a single mother says he worked her case for free. That seems less shady and more… decent.
The picture of the demon I’m dealing with remains confusing. Nothing I find incriminates him. A lot of what he told me lines up. But still, there’s so much I’m in the dark about. Can I really take the risk?
His only alibi is a tiny gargoyle literally connected to his soul, not the most unbiased character witness. But Iggy did vouch for Marlow. It’s easier to trust the shy gargoyle than the coy demon.
I shut my laptop and laugh at myself. “Nope, a jailbreak isn’t happening. I’m not even considering it.”
Helping him would be insane. And totally blow up my life. I can’t risk everything for a lying demon desperate to save himself.
But I still have this niggling gut feeling that he’s telling truth.
Marlow leaves tomorrow. Any chance of discovering if he's innocent—if he's mine—vanishes with him.
I need a second opinion, someone to talk some sense into me. I end up texting my best friend.
Wynn: Might need your advice about something.
Bane: Don’t do it.
Wynn: Okay, thanks. But maybe hear me out first?
Bane: Who is it this time?
Wynn: Who said we’re even talking about my love life?
…
Wynn: It’s a guy.
Bane: Look, if you have a bad feeling in your gut, it’s probably right. Walk away before you get attached.
That’s the tricky part.
Wynn: My gut says to trust him. Everything else says to run away.
My gut has been saying the same thing ever since Marlow and I first talked alone in the dungeons. He’s not telling me everything, but he’s not a bad person. It’s all the other evidence to the contrary that’s tripping me up.
And the ‘maybe mates’ thing? No idea what to do with that part.
Bane: Alright, give me the whole story.
No, bad idea.
Whatever happens, it’s on me. If I’m wrong and Marlow’s not innocent, the consequences for helping him will be severe. Deservedly so. No one I love should pay the price for my decision.
Wait. Am I really thinking about doing this?
