The Gods Defense (Laws of Magic Book 1)

by Amie Gibbons

  “Yeah.”

  I took the brush from her and went through my hair with a few swipes to make sure it was smooth. Tyler already had a comb out for me to trade when I handed her back the brush. I pulled my hair back, one careful stroke at a time.

  “Apollo drugged me Friday night and tested my powers, and he offered my mom as a trade for working for him. She’s awake. And I’m bound to Apollo.”

  Tyler took this all in, nodding. “Where is he?”

  I turned, one hand holding my pulled back hair. “Tyler, no.”

  She had that look in her eyes. The one I couldn’t quite place when we first met because I’d never seen another human being outside of a horror movie or psychological thriller with that look. Not angry, not crazy, completely rational.

  Every once in a while Tyler let the mask of normalcy slip and the animal show through. It wasn’t angry, it was just going to hunt because it had to, to eat or protect its people. The wolf stalking an invader in its territory. God was having fun when he made Tyler. She was rich, beautiful, brilliant, and a bit of a sociopath.

  Maybe more than a bit.

  Luckily, the sociopath was on my side.

  “Apollo’s powerful, and he’s got a gang of gods behind him. Don’t even think about it. I made a deal, I’ll live with it.”

  “Give me a little credit, please.” She shuffled through the makeup bag, pulling out lipstick after lipstick. “I don’t pick fights I can’t win.” She picked a color and handed it to me. “This will go well with your skin.”

  “Thanks.” I took it and put it on in the mirror, my hand steady by some small miracle.

  “Can you give me the Cliffnotes of why you’re upset?”

  “The Defendant was charged with assault. He said a god made him do it. Spenser let the defense through. I tried to stop it with a last minute hearing and I couldn’t.”

  “Last minute hearing? We do those?”

  “Special circumstances, I guess? It wasn’t exactly official. I just had heard through the grapevine that Reily was going to try that defense and I got a meeting to discuss it. I’m lucky I even knew…”

  It hit me.

  “Of course I knew about it! His plan only worked if I knew about it.” I smacked the counter. “That bastard!”

  “I’m going to need some names here.”

  “Apollo! He set this whole thing up. He did make the Defendant attack someone. He did something to make sure the Defendant didn’t take a deal and Reily brought up this defense and subpoenaed a god.

  “This was all a set up to get me to his place. Where he tested my magic and found out I was really powerful, which he already suspected. Then he offered me a deal. Work for him and he’ll bring my mom out of her coma. And then more stuff came spiraling out, but that’s the gist. And by the way, I forgot to call yesterday, but I need your help. I mean, the gods do. And Millie’s. I’ve got to call her during lunch.”

  I gave her back her lipstick, checked myself in the mirror again. “Tyler?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you lie to me Friday night, about who was calling you?”

  “That’s a jump.”

  “I know, brain’s all over the place. So, why?”

  She sighed. “Because we didn’t have the time to get into who I was actually talking to or why. It has nothing to do with you, and I love you, you’re my friend, but it’s none of your business.”

  “You couldn’t have said that then?”

  She shrugged. “As I said, seemed easier.”

  “Okay, I’m just sick of people lying to me.”

  She rubbed my arm. “In the future, I will say nunya instead of lying. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay. Recess is almost up. Can we get together later?”

  Tyler nodded along. “Happy hour at Corner Pub?”

  “See you then.” I pulled open the door. “And thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  I rushed back to the courtroom and got to my seat just in time for Spenser to enter again and bang us back in.

  Ugh, Spenser and bang in the same sentence just did not work.

  # # #

  “And I woke up, I think I woke up at least. I don’t know if I blacked out or was in shock,” Ashworth said on the stand. “I didn’t know who hit me, or why. I was on the floor and my face was killing me.”

  Something almost like the rumbling of thunder seemed to come from above. I glanced up. It wasn’t supposed to storm today.

  “Can you tell us how you felt after that? As in, how did the attack affect your emotional well-being?”

  He gave me a blank look and I resisted the urge to shift on my feet or bring up my hands to do the talking for me. We’d practiced this. How did I ask without leading him if he was freezing up?

  “Have you…” I paused, the rumbling getting louder.

  Ashworth looked, well, ashen as his eyes met mine then went up.

  “Ms. Berry?” Spenser asked. “Is there a problem?”

  “Could we have a short recess, Your Honor?” I asked. “Just to get maintenance up there to figure out what that is?”

  “What what is, Ms. Berry?”

  I switched my eyes to him so fast they got whiplash. “You can’t hear that?”

  We weren’t at rock concert levels, but certainly in the range of a normal speaking voice. Can you say time for a hearing aid?

  I looked around. The jurors and the few people behind them observing the trial were all looking at me the same way the judge was. Like I was a few fries short of a combo meal.

  Mr. Ashworth cleared his throat and I looked back at him, raising my eyebrows. He nodded once, a quick jerk of the head to say he heard it too.

  We’d found out soon after meeting that he had some sort of psychic ability that manifested as auditory, enough that he heard what was real but not perceivable by others. He’d thought he was borderline schizophrenic and was hoping it’d go away, until he met me and I saw his psychic abilities.

  Was it not a coincidence that he was the one to get attacked? It looked random and certainly seemed that way, but since the whole thing was orchestrated, maybe Apollo had wanted me to meet this guy so he’d know he wasn’t crazy.

  I was probably giving Apollo way too much credit; a question for another time though.

  What do I do?

  I was on the record. Everyone was looking at me like it was time to get the butterfly nets. That sound wasn’t going away, and if only psychics could hear it, I was betting it was magic and not good.

  “Your Honor, I don’t know if this is the proper forum for this, but-”

  A Rummmmmmbb, cut me off.

  The judge jumped and a few of the jurors started as well. So at least they heard it now.

  I squinted at the ceiling, bright white flicked through cracks that weren’t really there… yet.

  For some reason the phrase, “Lucy, I’m hooooome,” seemed oddly appropriate here.

  “Move it, people!” I yelled at the jurors, lunging forward to the first one on my end. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled. He went with it. “Up and out. Come on. This isn’t a show anymore and there’s no audience participation.”

  They scrambled once the first guy was moving out of the way, and I got behind them, ushering them away from the jury box, through the gate to the public side of the courtroom, and towards the door.

  I backed up to my table, eyes on the ceiling.

  Crack.

  The ceiling fell in over the front of the courtroom like someone cut a hole out of it with a cookie cutter and didn’t bother catching the piece before it thunked down.

  Plaster and dust puffed out, making me cough and stumble backwards. The jurors ran for it, their footsteps echoing down the hallway outside before the dust settled enough for me to blink it out of my eyes.

  I think it’s safe to say this one’s ending in a mistrial.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The jury box was covered with a slab of the ceiling. It broke on the back of the box an
d the chunk lay against the little gate leading to the public end of the courtroom. An edge of the ceiling decorated the judge’s desk in clumps and specs.

  Spenser blinked at me over it. Ashworth stared straight ahead, his lips moving quickly, and he crossed himself. The two bailiffs had been at their table between the judge’s desk and the defenses’ and they both were fine, looking around like me to assess the damage. Reily was… I turned, taking in the lines of seats in the courtroom.

  Shit, where was Reily?

  A flash of something peeking out from behind the judge’s desk drew me and I ran around the monstrosity. In the nook by the judge’s desk where the judge’s law clerk would sit if he had one was a normal sized desk built into the side of the monolith. Reily crouched by it, quite a sight from a grown man in a designer suit, talking softly to his client, who was hiding under the desk.

  I kneeled next to Reily, and he gave me a helpless look. His client held his knees to his chest, rocking and whispering.

  “Mr. Zelinski?” I said, keeping my voice soft.

  He looked up. “They’re mad. I said it was them. I wouldn’t shut up. I fought this, and they’re mad.”

  “The gods?” I asked. “Because they made you attack Mr. Ashworth and you told people about it?”

  He nodded, giving me big brown eyes.

  I kept thinking of him as the Defendant or Mr. Zelinski. It was hard to remember he was only twenty-two, basically a kid. Not Mr. Zelinski, but Alfonzo, a senior at Belmont who wanted to be a songwriter and violinist.

  “Alfonzo, can you tell me why you didn’t take the plea deal?”

  “Cassandra!” Reily practically yelped. “You can’t-”

  “We’re far past usual circumstances, Reily. Tell you what, after this, we’ll dismiss the charges. I should’ve done it earlier.” I switched my attention back to Alfonzo. “I’m asking for a reason.”

  He licked thick lips, pressing them together twice more. “Something told me not to. Like a voice in my head saying I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. It was a god, and I couldn’t just let it go and plead guilty.”

  I nodded. “That voice? It was the god that set you up. You were right, it was them. They used you. They did it to back me into a corner.”

  “What?” Reily again.

  “Long story.” I waved him off. “The point is, Alfonzo, they’re not mad at you. You did what they wanted. You made your attorney present The Gods Defense, which got me into the position the gods wanted me in. This weirdness has nothing to do with you. I promise. But right now, we need to leave, because whatever it is, we probably don’t want to be under it.”

  I held out a hand. “Come on, Chicken Little, the sky is falling.”

  He took my hand, crawled out from under the desk and stood with me, keeping a tight grip on my hand even as he towered over me.

  Dear God, he had to be at least six-four. How had he tucked himself under that desk? It was like he was the compactable man, able to fold up and fit in an overhead compartment for your convenience.

  I giggled and he looked at me.

  “Don’t ask,” I said, looking around.

  The judge and Ashworth were gone, probably out the back so they wouldn’t have to climb over the rubble. Sounded good to me.

  I tugged and Alfonzo trailed after me past the prosecution’s desk and through the door into the hallway holding the judges’ offices. The public didn’t get back here usually. It was all court personnel and lawyers. Empty now though.

  “Go through that door; you can get out from there easier.” I pointed to the double doors out into the public side of the courthouse.

  I would’ve handed Alfonzo’s hand to Reily if I didn’t think their manly sensibilities would get in the way. As it was, I felt like a heel for letting him go.

  Reily clasped his client on the shoulder and opened the door for him. “What about you?” he asked me.

  “I’ve got to figure out what the hell is going on up there.”

  His eyebrows flew up like caterpillars that didn’t know they didn’t have wings yet and were trying to fly off his face.

  “You’re going to get hurt. Come on. I’m not leaving a girl like you alone with this going on.”

  “Aw, how sweet… and possibly chauvinistic.” I jerked my head at the door. “I’m magic. And we have the bailiffs here and I’m sure somebody’s called the cops by now. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see Tyler jog up behind me. How did she do that in heels? “So before you pull out the little lady shit, why don’t you skooch and let the big girls handle this?”

  I put my hands up and stepped between them. “Or something a little less inflammatory. Reily, get Alfonzo out of here. Make sure he’s okay and call the cops and then the magic hotline, just in case somebody else hasn’t already.”

  He nodded, gave Tyler a long look, and left.

  I turned and asked, “How do we get up to the attic?”

  Tyler hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Stairs. It’s a kind of storage room with ducts running around and an open space in the middle.”

  “Not anymore.”

  We went towards the stairs at the same time and I let her open the door and go first.

  I still wasn’t sure what Tyler’s powers were, but they were similar to mine in that they involved some precognition, reflexes to rival mine, the ability to cast spells, and the conscience of Machiavelli’s Prince.

  Though that last one manifested long before magic came to the world.

  We ran up the stairs and Tyler opened the door, hand sliding under her jacket. Yep, she was carrying in the courthouse. That was Tyler, rule breaker. More like rule flip-offer.

  And damn was I glad for it today.

  Tyler went into the storage room first, looking one way then the other with her hand tucked under her jacket before turning to nod at me. I followed her in and up three steps to the floor.

  The room was a large space, probably just under the size of the entire floor below, with bare concrete floors that ended with the cut out hole in the middle.

  A maze of duct-work spanned a quarter of the room to the left, wide tubes a child could crawl through if the ducts were strong enough. Scattered here and there were white boxes with the tubes going through them. The right quarter of the room or so, under ducts only tangoing around the high, bare beams ceiling, answered the question of where office furniture went to die. File cabinets, chairs, desks, and mountains of folders were tossed haphazardly about the area.

  The rest of it was bare, part of that space was the hole. But nothing to explain what caused it. Tyler and I inched up to the lip of the hole and looked down. Nothing.

  Whush, rang through the space, making me jump back. The aluminum crackled overhead. The heat turning on?

  Grrrrrrrrr, rumbled out of nowhere, or everywhere. Tyler gave up pretenses and drew her gun, a delicate looking jade pistol.

  “Why is it colored?” I asked.

  She smirked, “That's so racist.”

  I laughed, a little too high and loud. It echoed.

  The air in front of us rippled, cracking open like a secret door. A spiral of purple smoke whirled out of the broken air, making a swirl maybe big enough for a dog to enter if the edges were solid, and it growled like Cujo waited on the other side.

  Tyler turned to me, jaw open, eyes wide. I’d never seen Tyler’s jaw drop. Not even during the veritable drunken orgy the Halloween party Two-L year turned into on the dance floor.

  “I think it’s time to call your god friends.”

  “Okay, what do we say is happening?”

  “Um, I… I think it’s a wormhole.”

  I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried it again. “Soooo, we’ve switched from being in an urban fantasy movie to a sci fi one?”

  “Wormholes can be magic, too.”

  “Okay, sure, yeah, that makes me feel better. Do you have your cell on you? Mine’s in the courtroom.”

  “No. It’s in my
office.”

  “Then we retreat, get a phone, call people.”

  “Figure out why people aren’t here already. What?” she said to my look. “It’s been more than a few minutes and nobody’s here.”

  Yeah, where’s Apollo? Wait, why did I think he’d automatically know something was wrong and show up?

  Rrummmmmmmmmp, came from the hole.

  And it spit out a cloud of green mist.

  The cloud advanced like fog creeping along the bare concrete floor. It sped up as it hit the hole in the middle, like the air drafts from downstairs were making it disperse faster.

  The fuzzy edges of it brushed and tickled the maze of ducts running to our left and covered the file cabinet and chair graveyard to our right.

  It got closer and I pushed my glasses up my nose, squinting to see the individual bits comprising the massive clouds. Each was a speck, almost like green pollen.

  The specks on the left hit the ducts first and they stopped, like they grabbed onto the ducts or something.

  Shoop. Shoop. Shoop. Shoop.

  Flowers of flying petal death like the one at the park on Friday popped up where the seeds grabbed onto the ducts. Most of the seeds ended up on the floor and lay dormant, but the ones that got the ducts all seemed to become a new flower, shaking off dew that must’ve been their equivalent of amniotic fluid and looking around.

  The one closest to us stared. No clue how a flower without any obvious eyes could stare, but it was.

  “Oh my God,” I said, crossing myself.

  They had us surrounded on three sides. At least a dozen of them managed to land and bloom on the ducts. How did that work? Maybe they needed energy to come out of their seeds and in the land of concrete, the ducts were it.

  “Okay,” Tyler said, stepping forward like she wanted to investigate.

  I grabbed her non gun totting arm. “No, I know these things. I ran into one of these on Friday. It attacked my dogs. They shoot these needle things. And they don’t seem to be picky about who it’s at.”

  We had all of the flowers’ attention now. They didn’t attack, didn’t shoot anything, just looked at us, almost… almost like they were waiting for us to tell them what was next.

  “Hi,” I said over the whirling whoosh of the wormhole thing. “I’m Cassandra and this is Tyler. Can you guys understand me?”