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“An example? Like capital punishment?”
“Not exactly. But trust me, you’re really happier not knowing any more than that.”
An imp standing in front of us turned around. He’d apparently overheard us.
“She means torture.” He grinned at the two of us, revealing a mouth full of gold fillings. With his green suit and feathered derby, I think he was going for some kind of pimp look. Mostly it put me in mind of a p**n star Robin Hood. Robin of Cocksley, maybe. Or perhaps Friar Suck.
“Me? I’m guessing flaying, but my buddy Roger swears it’s going to be disemboweling. I was just talking to this other guy in the bar last night, and he thinks Noelle’s pissed enough that they’ll actually flay and disembowel the poor bastard. Thinks they might even get some wraiths to do it—and you know how those little buggers are. They really get into ripping out intestines. Fuck, I don’t even think they care about eating the entrails. They just play with them half the time. Spin ’em like lassos. Wear ’em like boas.” He winked at me. “We’re starting a pool. You want in, sweetheart?”
“No, thanks.” I glanced over at Seth who wore the kind of shocked look accident survivors had. “Demons heal,” I said hastily. “None of it’s permanent.”
He swallowed. “And so, they flay…or whatever…this guy, and that’s that?”
Our new friend the imp answered before I could. “Well, you gotta understand that the flaying or disemboweling takes a long time.”
“How long?”
The imp narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Oh, I don’t know. Three, four centuries. Maybe five, depending on how bad a mood the judge is in.”
“Five centuries?” Seth exclaimed. “And that works? Stops repeat offenders? Discourages others?”
“No.” The imp and I spoke in unison.
“But it certainly makes them think twice,” I said.
The imp stood on his tiptoes, trying to see the front of the line. “Yeah, some of the punishment’s public, so it sets a pretty harsh example. Pretty cool, really. Too bad we’ll have to wait days to see it. It’d be a lot easier if they just did a reading and got it over with.”
“Reading?” asked Seth. “What’s that?”
“It’s something immortals can do to each other. It’s a way of…” I grasped at words for something I barely understood myself. “…viewing someone’s mind and soul. More than a viewing…it’s almost like a union with them. You can see their experiences, know if they’re telling the truth. You feel them.”
“Whoa. Wouldn’t that be a lot less trouble then?” he wanted to know. “And wouldn’t it make sure the wrong person wasn’t flayed?”
“It’s soul rape,” said the imp.
Seething Seth’s puzzled look, I explained more delicately. “Letting someone look into your soul is pretty invasive. It completely exposes you—opens up everything inside of you. And from what I hear, it’s a pretty horrible experience, so no one does it willingly. A more powerful immortal could force it on someone else, but even demons don’t like to cross that line. It’d be like…”
“Soul rape,” repeated the imp.
I could tell from his expression that Seth still didn’t quite follow. “And so, even though that would reveal the truth right away…it’s still easier just to go through this whole process?”
“Yeah,” I told him. “Demons want to hide their souls. Besides, with the way they lie, one could look inside another and swear they saw something that wasn’t actually true. So then they’d have to get more demons to find out what’s real. Makes everything a mess.”
“This is going to be some trial,” muttered Seth, shaking his head.
“Technically,” I said, “this won’t be a trial at all—at least not in the sense you’re used to. It’s more like a…a tribunal, I guess. There are suspects—but they don’t get lawyers. They just get examined by the prosecution and the jury. The jury decides who they think is guilty. A judge keeps everyone from killing each other in the meantime.”
“No lawyers?” Seth considered. “Let me guess. You guys are the ultimate guilty-untilproven-innocent group.”
“No. Well, I mean, yes, but that’s not why. Really, in the grand scheme of things, this is kind of a small dispute. Anthony—the guy who got killed—was a minor demon. They threw together this tribunal because no one wanted to go to the trouble of having a formal hearing. If they did, then that would have a lot more procedure and whatnot. It’d probably take place in Hell itself too. Not a Marriott.”
“I hear that,” said the imp in disgust. “This place is a dive. Last time I went to one of these, it was at a Hyatt.” He shook his head, clearly appalled at the collapse of Hellish civilization. “Fucking cheapskates.”
When we finally made it to the head of the line, the demon working the door gave me a hard time. His eyes flicked coldly over the paperwork I handed him. He promptly handed it back.
“You aren’t Jerome.”
“I’m his proxy.”
“A succubus can’t be a proxy.”
He started to turn to the person behind me, but I jabbed him in the arm with my finger. He glared.
“Well, obviously I can, or he wouldn’t have sent me. Read it again.”
I actually hadn’t read the document. When Jerome had given it to me, I’d assumed everything was in order and devoted my attention to actually figuring out what this case was about. I had, however, seen my name on the last page and figured that was the important part. I opened to that sheet and pointed.
“See?”
“It’s invalid.”
“You didn’t even read it!”
“I’m sure he read it,” a voice nearby suddenly said. “Because surely, surely, Marcus, you wouldn’t offhandedly dismiss a potential juror—particularly one sent by one of the more powerful archdemons in the country. Not only would that be rude and likely incur his wrath, it would also create chaos here when we realized we were down a juror. And that, my friend, would incur my wrath. Now, surely, surely, that isn’t what you want.”
All three of us turned to the speaker. He was a demon, like Marcus the bouncer, but even a mortal like Seth—without the benefit of reading signatures—could immediately assess the difference in strength. The newcomer radiated power, and it wasn’t just his six-foot-five height and broad shoulders.
“Er…well…” Marcus jerked the papers away from me, suddenly unable to read them fast enough. He practically dropped them in the process and stared at the bundle a full ten seconds before realizing he held the sheets upside down. He flipped the stack upright, scanned through it, and then handed it back. “My mistake. You’re cleared.”
Seth and I walked into the crowded meeting room, the largest one the hotel had. It was one of the ballroom-size ones that wedding receptions were often held in. My benefactor fell into step beside us.
“My, my,” he said pleasantly. “What is this world coming to when they let succubi sit on juries? It’s like we have no standards left at all. Might as well put the suspects’ names in a bag and draw a victim—er, culprit—at random.”
We stopped walking, and a grin crept over my face. “They’re trying to add a little class to these things, Luis, that’s all.”
He grinned back. “‘Class?’ Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” The giant demon leaned down and hugged me. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I said.
Luis’ gaze fell on Seth. “It’s apparently a sign of the times too when succubi have human minions.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
Luis shrugged. “Same difference.”
Rolling my eyes, I introduced them. “Luis used to be my boss,” I explained. “Like Jerome. Only more fun.”
“And sterner with unruly succubi,” Luis added.
I thought about Jerome’s recent behavior. “Debatable.”
“Well, we can battle it out later.” He glanced at his watch. “Right now, I’ve got to go take my place.”
