by SM Reine
The Judge settled his hand briefly on Ariane’s shoulder. He had white skin that reminded Isobel of boneyards.
So at least parts of him resembled a human.
“Next, Ariane.” Even though he spoke softly, his voice was amplified throughout the entire room. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke to the beautiful witch. That was the tone of a man who thought nobody else was listening, who was speaking to someone that he knew much better than a judge should know his employee.
She brushed her fingers over his—the barest touch of skin against skin. Then she descended into the pit to operate the rune again.
“Now,” Fritz said, moving to climb down the stands.
Before he made it two levels down, a door opposite the one the nightmare had been dragged through opened.
Lucrezia di Angelis stepped into the courtroom.
Fritz dropped back to his knees and pulled Isobel down with him, swearing under his breath.
“You’re not on trial,” the Judge said, his hood turning so that he could survey the woman critically. “At the very least, you’re not on my schedule. What are you doing in these hallowed walls?”
Ariane frowned. “I’m sorry. I’ll have her removed.”
He lifted a hand to stop her. “That won’t be necessary. The fact that Lucrezia di Angelis has come here suggests that it must be important.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. Important enough, I suppose.” Lucrezia’s mouth twisted with distaste. “Have you spoken with Fritz Friederling yet?”
The Judge was silent for so long that Isobel wasn’t sure that he’d heard her speak at all. “Fritz Friederling,” he finally said. “I don’t know this man.”
For once, Fritz’s reputation hadn’t preceded him. Bad timing for that.
Fritz looked shocked, though. The blood had drained from his face. “Didn’t you say that Judge Abraxas owes your family a favor?” Isobel whispered under her breath. Even those soft words were amplified within the court, though it didn’t seem to reach the floor.
He nodded mutely.
Lucrezia was speaking again. “He’s running around with a zombie or…something.” She rolled her eyes. “What he’s doing is of no interest to you or the Palace. However, I’m certain he’s breaking several laws relevant to my job on Earth. I want him turned over to my custody.”
“Zombie?” The Judge almost sounded amused.
“He seems to have resurrected his dead wife. Nothing illegal by the laws of Hell, I’m afraid.”
The muscles in Isobel’s shoulders knotted until it felt like they might rip her spine in half. Lucrezia sounded so damn dismissive. “What’s crawled up her ass?” Isobel muttered.
Fritz leaned in close to her ear. “It’s funny how you fuck a woman a few times and she thinks you’re in a relationship.”
“Funny?”
“Friederling, Friederling,” the Judge mused aloud. “Where have I heard that name?”
Lucrezia paced, white heels clicking against the floor. “Lord only knows. He has a way of making trouble.”
“The summit,” Ariane said. “He’s on the list.”
“Ah. Fritz Friederling is involved in the organization of the Union’s semi-centennial summit. That’s right.” The Judge’s hood swiveled to face Lucrezia again. Even though Isobel couldn’t see his eyes, she thought that she would have shriveled under the weight of his invisible gaze. “You wouldn’t get into a fight with someone who might interfere with the plans for this summit, would you?”
“He’s a bit player,” Lucrezia said. “Meaningless to the grander scheme of things.”
“He is attending, though.”
“Yes. He’s attending. Everyone’s attending. It doesn’t change anything. Fritz Friederling has broken the Union’s rules by maintaining a portal to Hell in his private residence, dragging a pet zombie around, and being a general nuisance. Now he’s in the Palace. I want him in my custody.”
Pet zombie? Isobel’s hackles lifted.
Fritz rose, tugging on his suit jacket to straighten it, squaring his shoulders. He was preparing to do battle.
“What are you doing?” Isobel hissed, grabbing his hem.
He ignored her and moved down the stairs. “I have to object to that assessment.” He spoke just loudly enough that it carried throughout the entire courtroom.
Everyone looked up to see Fritz and Isobel in the stands.
Ariane slapped her hand over her face. “You stupid man,” she whispered. It carried through the court.
Lucrezia tensed. “Friederling.” Her eyes flicked to Isobel. “And Hope.”
“I haven’t broken a single one of the Office of Preternatural Affairs’s rules,” Fritz said.
“Maintaining private artifacts that are so powerful is a rule violation.”
“The portal belongs to the Friederlings. It’s not my personal property, and even if it were, those rules don’t apply to anything employees own prior to employment. Also, if you checked my file, you’d see I have the portal registered in the database—among other things.”
“And I’m not a pet zombie,” Isobel added. She didn’t really want anyone paying attention to her, but she couldn’t leave that alone.
“Pet zombie, sex toy, it doesn’t matter,” Lucrezia said. “We’ve been bringing the hammer down on necromancy and an OPA director should know better than to drag that walking violation around with you!”
“She’s a very well-preserved zombie,” the Judge said. He was leaning back in his chair now, hooded head resting on his knuckles. Isobel thought his posture almost looked amused by the argument unfolding in his courtroom, but it was hard to tell.
“This woman is not a zombie,” Fritz said. “She’s the product of a contract with Ander.”
“Ander is a well-known slaver,” Ariane filled in when the Judge didn’t react. There was new sympathy in her eyes when she studied Isobel. “He’s best known for employing people on the brink of death and restoring them to life. A rare demon with somewhat necromantic powers.”
“Interesting,” the Judge said. “Useful.”
“He’s dead now,” Fritz said.
Understanding flitted over Ariane’s features. “And her contract is expiring. How long?”
“A matter of days now. I need you to nullify the contract, Judge Abraxas.” Fritz reached into his jacket, extracting a slender envelope.
“Why should I help you?” the Judge asked.
“I’m a Friederling.” He said it like it should be significant.
But Judge Abraxas didn’t react. “You want this contract nullified. Lucrezia wants your blood. Court is always tedious, but dragging your mortal dramas into it has rendered it more of a chore than normal.”
Fritz crossed the warded floor to set the envelope on the Judge’s stand. “The terms of your treaty with the House of Belial says that you have to nullify this for me.”
“What a joke! You don’t care about any of this, Judge,” Lucrezia said. “You know you don’t. But you’re the authority in this Palace, and you need to give me permission to arrest this man within your walls. All you have to do is say the word. I will make this chore vanish.”
“You’re right, Lucrezia di Angelis,” Judge Abraxas said. “I’ve no interest in your affairs. They’re meaningless to this court. I won’t turn him over to your custody, but I’ll have nothing to do with his zombie’s contract problems, either.”
Anger crackled in the air surrounding Fritz. “But—Judge Abraxas—”
The crack of the gavel on the podium interrupted him.
“You intruded on my court against my wishes,” the Judge said. “You’ll be incarcerated in the cells until I decide if I want to do anything else with you.”
“Incarcerated?”
“The verdict is temporary incarceration in the cells,” Ariane announced, the same way that she had announced the verdict for the demon that had been on trial earlier.
Summoned by her voice, a pair of demon gua
rds limped into the room. They moved awkwardly because they had no necks; their heads were sunken into their chests, and their mouths formed toothed, gaping holes in their stomachs.
Fritz didn’t fight them when they pulled his wrists behind his back, binding them with a rope.
“Stop that!” Isobel snapped.
They didn’t listen to her.
If only she remembered her time as Hope Jimenez better—the lawyer would have known what to do. She would have had some genius idea for intervening and convincing Judge Abraxas to listen to her.
Instead, she could only gape as demons dragged Fritz Friederling away, taking him to cells that could have been anywhere, as far as she knew.
He looked infuriated, but he still didn’t fight.
She’d seen him take on more than two demons before. He could have killed them. He could have broken free. “Fritz,” she said. He shook his head silently at her before they made him disappear through those doors.
Lucrezia looked almost as angry as Isobel felt. She rounded on Judge Abraxas. “Then what about her?” She jabbed a finger at Isobel.
The Judge studied Isobel for a long time. Too long. She felt like she was trapped under the weight of his scrutiny for endless days.
“Meaningless,” he said decisively. And then he turned from her as though he’d already forgotten that she was in the room. “Next, Ariane.”
CHAPTER NINE
MEANINGLESS.
THAT WAS ONE hell of a verdict for a judge to hand down to Isobel.
She used to be one of the best lawyers in New York. There were a lot of newspaper articles and enraged blogs to attest to that. Now she was a necrocognitive with enough of a reputation to attract clients all over the West Coast. She was good at what she did. She had been good at what she used to do.
Isobel wasn’t meaningless.
The way that he had said that made her feel cold and sick all over.
Ariane escorted her to the upper levels of the Palace, and Isobel followed her numbly, watching the silhouette of the woman’s black dress swaying against the black stone walls.
The hostess dropped her off at a lobby on the ground level. “They won’t keep Fritz for long,” Ariane said, rubbing Isobel’s shoulders in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. “There’s no reason to waste resources containing him. He’ll be out within the week.”
Isobel wasn’t sure if Ariane meant a week in Dis time or Earth time. It was a pretty big difference.
Of course, it didn’t seem all that important, considering that the huge clock built into the wall of the lobby was ticking all too quickly toward the expiration of Isobel’s contract.
“This was supposed to save my life,” she said. “Judge Abraxas should have been able to help me.”
Ariane squeezed Isobel’s arms gently. “The Palace Library is that way.” She nodded toward a door leading out to the courtyard. “If you follow the path beyond the flesh gardens, you’ll find the door.” The hostess left again, probably heading back downstairs for more time in court with Judge Abraxas.
The Library?
It took Isobel a moment to remember that one of the librarians wanted to speak with her. Fritz had dismissed it so quickly that Isobel hadn’t given the request much consideration.
Now that Fritz was trapped in a cell and the Judge had refused their plea, it seemed that she had time to visit.
What harm could it do?
Isobel stepped into the courtyard. The soil was hard packed and red, as though iron-rich blood infused its every grain. Spiked battlements reared high overhead. There were guards patrolling the walls, some nightmares and some of those beasts with the mouths in their chests, but none of them looked at her twice.
She was far from the only human walking around the Palace. People were strolling along the black stone paths, sheltered from the worst of the dust and wind.
Even though she kept her eyes to the path, she couldn’t help but wonder what had led so many people—and many of them dressed in expensive suits—to live or work in Hell. Such a dark, miserable place had to have some redeeming quality to make it worthwhile.
Isobel would bet it was money. It was usually money.
The Library inhabited the entire bottom half of a nearby tower. The floor was some kind of semi-translucent glass or crystal covered in desks occupied by orange-robed demons.
A single spiral staircase led into the stacks above Isobel. There must have been tens of thousands of books up there—more books than anyone could read in two or three lifetimes.
Definitely more than she’d ever be able to read in what remained of her lifetime.
Once Isobel was inside the Library of Dis, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. People were climbing the stairs, perusing the stacks, talking to the demons at the desks. Nobody greeted her. No guards tried to turn her away.
Isobel approached one of the nightmare guards by the doors. “Excuse me,” she said, ignoring the familiar surge of fear that accompanied close proximity to a nightmare demon. “I was told a librarian here wanted to speak with me.”
The demon gave her a once-over. “What’s a librarian want with a dead girl?”
Nobody had ever recognized her as anything but living before, but apparently the contract’s magic had faded enough that she looked like a zombie now. That didn’t do favorable things for her ego. “I don’t know what the librarian wants. Where do I find them?”
“You already have,” the nightmare said, jerking his chin toward the robed demons.
There were dozens of them. Isobel didn’t know where to start.
“Thanks,” she said.
He grabbed her arm before she could move away. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. “You’re terrified.” Isobel tried to pull free, but he was holding too tight. “Who owns you? I want a taste.”
“The Hand of Death,” Isobel said. “I’m a priestess. You can’t touch me.”
That worked in Helltown as a way to get most demons to leave her alone. In Dis, it wasn’t nearly as effective.
The nightmare pulled her to him, looping an arm around her waist. “I’m off my shift in a few minutes,” he murmured, scraping skeletal fingers down her throat.
Her skin crawled like it was going to peel off her body and go hide in the dark courtroom.
Isobel could fight back. She’d handled worse demons than this thing, even if it were strengthened by being in Hell. But she couldn’t guarantee that she’d break free without damaging herself permanently.
“Release her, Antoine,” said a gravelly voice behind Isobel.
Isobel twisted. Her savior looked very much like a goat walking on its hind legs, though the hands that protruded from the ends of her sleeves were those of a human child. Her long muzzle was covered in coarse fur. Her eyes were framed by thick eyelashes, and the pupils were ovals.
The nightmare released Isobel and stepped back, bowing his head respectfully. “Sorry.”
“Thanks,” Isobel said to the goat, trying to slow her pounding heart.
“I’m the librarian who summoned you, Isobel Stonecrow.” When she spoke, her lips moved as fluidly as a human’s. The teeth that flashed were square and yellow. “I’ve heard of your trouble. I can’t nullify your contract, but I can rewrite it.”
“What? Really? How can you rewrite my contract?” Isobel asked. Maybe her friend Ann hadn’t been that far off about needing a magical lawyer after all.
“Come to my desk.” The goat limped across the crystal floor, and Isobel followed.
They stopped at a tidy desk covered by two stacks of parchment. It didn’t look like the paper had been made from trees; it was too rough, too pinkish. Death tingled very faintly around it.
That parchment had been made from skin.
The goat demon settled herself on a stool, then gestured to the opposite chair. “Sit.” Isobel obeyed quickly. “I’m Onoskelis, a librarian. All documents in the Palace fall under my authority. Your contract is currently owned by a human man bu
t resides inside the Palace battlements, which means I can modify it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with the Palace’s rules, or what the librarians here are like, but…that’s not something librarians can do where I come from. Modifying contracts.”
Onoskelis’s liquid eyes sparked. “I’m not merely a librarian in this Palace. I am a very special type of librarian. My coworkers and I are different from every other demon dwelling in Hell.”
“It just sounds too good to be true,” Isobel said.
The librarian set the page she was writing on aside, licked her fingers, and peeled a fresh piece of parchment away from the stack. “I’ll prove it to you.” She wrote a few short lines and pushed it toward Isobel, along with the pen. “Sign this.”
It was a revision to her contract—the one that she had signed for Ander. And it returned most of her memories as Hope Jimenez.
Isobel took the pen, but hesitated.
She had signed those memories away for a reason. The odds that she wouldn’t like what she remembered were high.
But in order to get rid of that contract, she was going to have to remember at some point. She couldn’t keep running forever.
Isobel held her breath and signed the revision.
The ink sank into the page, quickly growing dull.
For an instant, nothing else happened. Isobel dropped the pen. She opened her mouth to complain.
Then her mind split open and memories came pouring back.
Hope Jimenez sat in a shadowy office with a briefcase in her lap and a stack of papers on the desk in front of her. Isobel recognized the office—not from Hope’s memories, but from ones much more recent than that.
It was Ander’s office at his home in Hell.
Hope Jimenez didn’t belong there.
Yet Onoskelis’s contract had definitely brought the memory of Ander’s office forth, and she was definitely still Hope Jimenez, judging by the tailored suit she wore and the slenderness of her thighs.
She wasn’t alone in that office. Ander lounged beside her, cigar caught between his teeth. “Of course I’ve got another one for you. I’ll always have another one for you, my dear girl.” He had the charm turned up to eleven. He was in a good mood.
