“Yes. The court found him guilty of negligence this morning.”
“Wait, they’ve already ruled?” That didn’t sound like good news. She hoped it didn’t mean things looked bleak for Alexander.
“Against Celion, yes. His case was heard separately. Alexander, however, will face the same committee.”
“Okay.” Zoë breathed in and out a few times. She had never liked public speaking. The few times she’d had to give oral reports or presentations in school, she usually managed to fall “sick” that day. Trying to talk to a classroom full of kids while seeing spirits no one else could did not exactly make her feel comfortable. Not that spirits showed up every time, of course. But she was always on the lookout for them ever since she’d had that dead janitor shuffle in to hear her talk on George Washington Carver in the seventh grade. Of course, she sincerely doubted she would see any human spirits in the celestial realm. Looking around at her dismal surroundings, she shivered. Endless nothing would drive her mad, and she had to fight to keep herself from pondering what it would feel like to get stuck here.
“What are they going to ask me?” Zoë straightened her blouse and then tried to fix her hair with her fingers. She wished desperately she had a mirror with her, but this so-called waiting room didn’t exactly seem to have a ladies’ room where she could freshen up.
“The same type of questions I asked you before. Most likely about your relationship with Alexander, the day you met, and possibly things that have happened since then.”
“Most likely?”
“Technically, they can ask you anything they want.”
“Anything?”
“You are their witness, not mine. I will be allowed to make statements at certain times during the hearing process, and I will ask you questions, but I cannot interfere with their questioning.” Thomas shrugged. “Although we angels are very organized when it comes to laws, we don’t have the same limitations as humans. The committee has the power to do what they must in order to find the truth as to whether or not Alexander interfered with mortality to the detriment of the timeline progression plan.”
“Did he?” Zoë said quietly.
Thomas put his hand over hers and squeezed. For a moment, he seemed more like himself, more relaxed. “If you don’t understand something, it’s okay to say so. The proceedings are formal and structured, but allowances will be made for you.”
They fell into a silence, sitting together and waiting. At first it seemed unbearable to Zoë, but after a while the urgency faded, and with it went her nervousness and fear. Finally she asked, “What’s taking so long?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Angels do not tend to hurry.” But then, with a twitch of his head, as though he’d heard something in this vast expanse of nowhere, Thomas stood. “They’re reconvening. It’s time.”
Zoë nodded. “Okay.” She exhaled again and stood beside Thomas, facing him since there were no doorways or other indication of which direction they would go. She reached up to straighten his dark tie. As she touched it, it disappeared, and his suit melted into a dark blue robe that flowed from a high collar down to the floor. A subtle insignia appeared at either side of the neck: some sort of shield or device.
His coal black hair grew long and then stopped as it touched his shoulders. The stubble on his face vanished before her eyes, but at the same time deep lines creased his cheeks, making him look older than she’d ever seen him. Suddenly he looked more than old, he looked ancient. His deep gray eyes, however, shone with the same familiar glint. Even with long hair and wrinkles, she would have known him anywhere. And despite the change, he was still compelling to look at.
Before she could ask, he answered the question budding in her mind. “Out of respect, I observe certain traditions.” He pushed back the long sleeve of his robe and offered to take her hand. “May I?”
“It’s not going to hurt like last time, is it?” she said warily.
“I doubt it.”
Although she found that less than comforting, Zoë nodded, and the gray world jerked around them as they shifted.
Deep reds replaced the gray, and Zoë had to fight not to leave her mouth hanging open. The courtroom didn’t have the Judge Judy layout she’d expected. Instead it brought to mind the British House of Lords with rows of deep red benches on either side of a long, narrow room. Its inhabitants, on the other hand, were like nothing she had ever seen.
Though every angel within the chamber was in human form, their long hair and formal robes in varying dark shades made her feel like she’d stepped back in time. “What do the colors mean?” she whispered to Thomas.
“Different factions,” he said in a low tone.
Angels murmuring among themselves filled nearly every one of the some two or three hundred seats in the hall. It had occurred to her earlier they might be in exalted forms, with bird heads and serpent bodies and a hundred other variations she could imagine, and she found herself somewhat disappointed that they each had two arms, two legs, no wings, and their skins were plain old beige to mahogany in color.
“Which group is the committee?”
“All of them.”
Zoë snapped around and stared at Thomas. “I’m going to be questioned by all of them?”
“Possibly. Probably not.”
“I hope they plan to give me a bathroom break and a sandwich,” she muttered.
The angels occupied themselves with the pleasantly mundane task of finding their seats, so Zoë took the opportunity to look around. Behind and above them, in the rear of the chamber, a visitors’ gallery perched like box seats at a baseball game, except the railing was carved wood and its inhabitants dressed in ornate, formal clothing. Unlike the committee, those sitting above wore jewelry, sashes or ribbons. One man and a woman in particular caught her eye. Splendidly dressed, they stared directly at Zoë. The woman wore a golden sheath dress of heavy damask with dark green jewels at her neck. A delicate golden crown rested in her pale blond hair, but her eyes were sharp and calculating. The man next to her wore a long robe of the same gold color and a similar, but heavier crown.
“Who are they?”
Thomas followed her gaze and then urged her to look forward as the crowd began to settle.
He leaned over and put his lips close to her ear. “Alexander’s parents, Trill and Zedane.”
She met the woman’s eyes once more. Zoë couldn’t help it. The woman wore a crown, for goodness’ sake, and she remembered very distinctly Alexander had told her his parents were named Duncan and Emily or something like that. “But…”
Before she could ask anything more, Thomas gave her a warning look. The chamber fell silent. She and Thomas faced forward, and Zoë felt the weight of the gazes in the chamber on her. Her hands shook, and she wished she had long sleeves like Thomas’ to hide them in. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her waist and hugged herself.
At the head of the room and positioned above the benches sat an immense throne covered in soft red velvet with a lily carved into the wood casing around it. When an ancient angel entered in a long white robe and a beard nearly the same hue, she expected him to take the throne, but he did not. Instead, he crooked a knobby finger at Zoë and Thomas, and motioned them forward.
He eyed Zoë from beneath bushy brows. “So you are the girl, are you?”
She stiffened. The girl, indeed. “I’m Zoë Kathryn Pendergraft.”
The old angel grinned. “So you are. Good for you.”
When he stepped to the side, she saw Alexander had come in behind him. He looked tired and his face lacked the usual sweet humor she loved so much. He also wore a golden robe exactly the shade as the man in the balcony above. When their eyes met, she took a couple of steps forward, wanting nothing more than to fling herself into his arms. The startled and pained look on his face stopped her in her tracks. It had been, she suddenly realized, exactly the wrong thing to do with every eye in the chamber on them.
Dammit, she said to herself. She hadn
’t even opened her mouth yet and she’d already made things worse.
“I am sorry,” he said softly.
For what, Zoë wondered.
The older man watched the exchange and then motioned her to a solitary chair at the center of the chamber. If someone had actually sat in that enormous throne, she would have had to crane her neck upward to make eye contact. Thomas went to a podium to her right, and the bearded angel to her left.
Zoë didn’t want to look at Alexander. He looked lonely, and his defeated expression pained her. For a moment she forgot her fear of the questioning to come and berated herself for having indulged her selfish worries. As uncomfortable as recent events had made her, his situation was a hundred times worse. After all, he knew these people, and he stood to lose his position. Seeing the formality of the chamber made this seem less like the employment tribunal she’d first pictured. Instead, it had the feel of a senate judicial hearing, including the overwhelming trappings, except that she didn’t have so much as a table to hide behind or a glass of water to sip.
“Zoë Kathryn Pendergraft,” the white-haired angel began from behind his podium, “We are here to determine whether the celestial being you know as Alexander did interfere with mortality to the detriment of the timeline progression plan. The committee had discussed the matter of your humanity and whether or not this would preclude you from acting as a suitable witness.”
He talked about being human as though it were some kind of handicap, and this got Zoë’s ire up. She bit back the remarks that she longed to let tumble out of her mouth.
“Some suggest you should be questioned as any of us would. Others believe humans incapable of telling the truth for a long enough period to satisfy our purpose. With that in mind, a third group has suggested we compel you to tell the truth.” He stopped and looked at her closely. “Do you wish to comment on this?”
She did. She wanted very much to comment on the cheek of thinking they would have to force her by some means she didn’t even want to consider. The presumption of dishonesty came under the twisted opinions of people who probably didn’t even know any humans personally. It took all her self-control simply to say, “I don’t like the idea of you compelling me to do anything. How about I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God?” Even people in fake TV courtrooms got sworn in, didn’t they? But seeing as how angels didn’t lie, it did make sense they might not cope well with someone who at least knew how.
A murmur went up in the chamber, and Zoë glanced at Alexander, who looked something between amused and horrified. If they had this much trouble with just getting started, this might take a while.
The old angel cleared his throat and gestured for silence. “We are prepared to allow you to exercise your free will,” he said after the commotion had died down. “This is our way, but remember, false statements will hurt your already limited credibility.”
“If my credibility is so limited, then why am I here?” The words fell out before she could pull them back.
“You are here to answer questions and submit to the will of the High Court.”
Well, then. She had no answer for that, so she nodded.
“When you met Alexander, he posed as a message delivery worker. Is that correct?”
“Uh, yeah. He came to my work and said he was the postman. Wait, no. He didn’t say that. He came in dressed like a postman and carrying the company mail. So, you know, I guess I assumed it.”
“Did he seduce you, or did you seduce him?” came from a woman on the left.
Zoë looked up to find the speaker. The narrow-faced woman wore a dark green robe and stood at her seat. “Well,” Zoë said, feeling a rush of heat on her face, “I suppose I suggested giving him my phone number or something like that, and he asked why. My friend Simone explained.”
Another brief bout of whispering went around. Zoë could tell not everyone knew precisely what a phone number was, so she clarified. “I suggested we see one another again. Alexander agreed, and he came to my home that night after work.”
“And you commenced an intimate relationship involving sexual intercourse.”
Not a question, she noticed, but Thomas didn’t make a move to object, so she said, “Well, not that night, but yes, we, erm, yes.” Despite trying to avoid looking at Alexander, Zoë met his eyes, and his tender expression relieved her. He didn’t appear embarrassed by their relationship. Not that she was. Her mortification came from having to tell hundreds of strangers about it. Of course, it couldn’t be easy for Alexander, with his parents sitting behind her. But then, it surprised her that in a couple of centuries he hadn’t gotten over that concern. As that thought flitted through her mind, Zoë realized she cared very much what his parents thought.
A committee member a few seats down stood and asked, “We are aware you have super-human abilities. Please describe them in detail. Do they include detecting Alexander’s divine nature, even though he presented himself in human form?”
Super-human? Right. That made her sound like a crime-fighter. Up, up and away. She cleared her throat. “I can see the spirits of humans who have died. And, yes, I knew when I first saw Alexander he definitely wasn’t human.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh, I can see you guys even when you go invisible, and I can see those blue wall thingies.”
The old angel opposite Thomas leaned forward on his podium. “What blue wall thingies?”
“You know, the barrier things. Like at the train station?”
“She means she can see a Pale, my lord,” Thomas interjected. “Apparently they look blue to her.”
Zoë was surprised to learn what she had called a force-field and what the angels called a Pale didn’t look blue to them too, but it didn’t matter. “Right,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you call them.”
The old angel flicked his wrist and pointed at her, and suddenly she was surrounded by four blue translucent walls. The aversion to them crept over her skin, and she wanted desperately to get away, except they surrounded her. “Hey,” she said, jumping to her feet and pushing her way through the barrier. Zoë glared at the questioner. “That was pretty rude,” she said.
“Oh,” he replied absently. “I had thought to verify you could see them. I forgot you would feel it as well.” With another gesture the walls disappeared, and Zoë took her seat again, but slowly, fearing the walls might come back at any moment.
Zoë wanted to point out that they had agreed to trust her, but decided not to press her luck. When she’d imagined giving testimony, this wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind.
The angel who had asked about her abilities continued as soon as she had settled herself. “What other super-human abilities do you have?”
“I don’t really know,” she said.
The old angel asked her, “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I don’t know.” Zoë shrugged. “I’m only twenty-five years old. I’ve seen spirits as long as I can remember. I didn’t know until last week I could detect angels, and I’d never seen a Pale before. So, either I just haven’t run into any, or my abilities are growing. Last week, if forced to label myself, I would have used the word medium. In the past seven days, I’ve been called a few other things.”
“Like what?” the old angel asked her.
“My friend Henry Dawkins, he’s dead, called me a seer. Alexander seemed to think I was a Stalker.” She quickly added, “But of course I’m not.”
If the interruptions before had been a mild chattering, the word Stalker made the place explode. Angels stood right and left, and a whirring of activity swirled around her.
Cries of “Take her!” and “No!” and a hundred variations of fear and outrage clattered in her ears. Their voices grew thunderous, and Zoë stood, helpless in the center of the commotion. She bolted from her seat and ran to Thomas’ side and stood with her back to Alexander, between him and Thomas.
Alexander rippled as he shifted. She c
ouldn’t see it, but she felt him grow taller and then saw the edges of his blue wings in her peripheral vision, and even Thomas backed away. A predatory bird-like screech came from deep within Alexander’s chest and the entire chamber fell into a hush. His arms clutched her protectively.
The first time she’d seen Alexander shift, she had been afraid of him. Now she felt nothing but grateful. Her heart thudded, and no one moved for an eternity. All eyes in the chamber fixed on the pair of them.
Finally Alexander spoke. “Zoë is no assassin.”
A voice came from behind them, but because of the grip Alexander had on her, she couldn’t see its source. “How do you know?”
Zoë trembled, but she answered, “Because I don’t kill people. That’s why. Even angel people.” She felt stupid saying it. Even with the chaos blade she couldn’t imagine being able to hurt one of them, especially when she felt power rolling off Alexander like musky cologne.
“You possess a chaos weapon?” the old man asked her.
“It’s not like I asked for it. A spirit dropped it at my feet.”
“And you picked it up?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do? Leave a hunting knife lying under my sofa? I didn’t even know what it was when I found it.”
The old angel looked up at Alexander, still in his exalted form, towering over Zoë. “And even knowing what she might become, you would side with her over your own people? Your own family?”
Alexander growled. “She is innocent.”
“And if it turns out she is a Stalker? How far will you go to protect her?”
“She has done nothing wrong. It is not her nature,” Alexander said.
The old angel tugged his white beard for a moment, and then looked up and behind Zoë and Alexander, to the visitors’ gallery. He nodded in the direction of Alexander’s parents and motioned for the rest of the committee to sit. To Alexander he said, “She will not be harmed, unless she commits an act that requires intervention. We will give her the opportunity to exercise free will.”
Alexander stayed standing, and did not return to his human form, but his grip did loosen.
Ordinary Angels Page 16
