Immortal Divorce Court Volume 2: A Sirius Education

by Kirk Zurosky

  “Well, that would be insane,” she said. “Who would do that?”

  Garlic barked once and looked as sheepish as a vampire Maltese could. “Long story,” I said. “The new Head Magistrate is a little more reasonable than the old crotchety curmudgeon that I first dealt with. The Great Decider, my ass. The Breaker of the Bold. Ha! He sure couldn’t break me. I wonder what old Gulth Scorn is doing these days. No doubt still playing with his gavel and casting judgment on the world.”

  I stopped talking as I saw Hedley’s face grow pallid. What could it be? “Hedley,” I asked, “is something the matter?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I think you may be absolutely right.”

  I handed Breeze the paper, and she left the room, looking much relieved. Hedley was an entirely different story. He went to the cabinet where the clock that kept the time in the outside world was stored, its glass hands whirring along quickly. But the clock was not his focus. Hedley reached for a crystal decanter filled with a clear liquid, which he poured into two narrow glasses. “I must give proper due to my old friends the Aztecs for their fine work,” he said. “But I have to say your countrymen who moved to Tequila have done a fine job expanding on the process of turning the agave plant into this bit of tastiness.”

  We drank, and I enjoyed the burn as the smoothest tequila I had ever tasted rushed down my throat and warmed my belly. “I appreciate you sharing your private stock with me,” I said. “But I think this drink was more for you than me. What haven’t you told me about the old Head Magistrate, Gulth Scorn?”

  Hedley sighed and poured some more tequila into his glass and refilled mine as well. “About a thousand years ago there was a rather nasty infestation of basilisks that plagued most of the civilized world. They were slowly but surely eradicating great numbers of mortals and immortals alike. So I organized a team of immortals to combat the threat. The team was composed of myself, Justice, Malakar, and Gulth Scorn.”

  “Scorn?” I said. “Wasn’t he the Head Magistrate back then?”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Hedley answered. “He wasn’t even a lawyer. He was the longest known possessor of the Blade of Truth and a warrior of great renown. Some called him a champion.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I retorted. “I am not sure what is most surprising to me—that he was a great warrior, possessed the Blade of Truth, or that you were friends with that stuffy ingrate.”

  “The four of us were great friends at one time,” Hedley said. “We traveled the world, teaching, protecting, and ridding it of evil wherever we passed. They were good times. Honorable times. We were the origins of legend—known as the Four Winds by some, and at times we laid down the law as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

  “Well, Scorn is all about the rules of his law now.”

  Hedley frowned. “More than you know,” he said. “Gulth was our moral compass. Preaching right versus wrong. He tutored Hammurabi, Justinian, and others. But he was always a man of action.”

  “No offense, but he doesn’t exactly look like he can wield much more than that gavel he was always waving around in Immortal Divorce Court.”

  “Who do you think taught your father his skills with the blade and other weapons?”

  My mouth dropped open. “What? He never told me that!”

  “And I am fairly certain that you have never asked your father that question, have you?” Hedley said. “Don’t think of the man you know as the Head Magistrate. Picture a man with looks and vitality that would rival Lovely’s, and skill with the blade like yours, maybe even better.”

  I had not asked my father who had trained him, but it was ironic that he was trained by the very man who had sent me to Hell to teach me a lesson. “Hmm, for an immortal, he sure hasn’t aged well,” I said.

  “Providence does not always favor the bold, but I will get to that,” Hedley said. “So, we banded together and succeeded in destroying all the basilisk nests, but we ran into a little problem at the last one.”

  “What happened?”

  “The last nest was located in a coastal cave in Greece, not too far from Immortal Divorce Court and the Gates of Hell. This basilisk was rumored to be the biggest and deadliest of them all. So we gathered our best soldiers and set off for Greece. When we arrived at the cave, we quickly realized two things—one, that the cave had an exit to the ocean, and two, that the mouth of the cave split into two separate passageways. We sent the soldiers to set up a perimeter on the beach. Malakar and his thunderbirds stayed to guard the entrance from any surprise attacks by a sea serpent or sneaky basilisk. Justice and I chose one passageway, and Gulth Scorn, armed with the Blade of Truth, took the other.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “The Blade of Truth has a long and glorious history of disappearing at exactly the wrong moment for its rightful possessor.” For some reason it bothered me that I had had the Blade of Truth in my hand for what amounted to an instant, and Gulth Scorn was the apparent world record holder.

  “I would not say that. And the Blade of Truth did not disappear that day from Gulth Scorn’s hand,” Hedley replied. “The Blade of Truth follows its own truth, not that of its possessor. Remember, the truth serves no master.”

  “Well that is a bit ironic.”

  “And so sometimes is the truth.”

  I nodded, thinking back to the Himalayas. Were it not for the Blade of Truth disappearing, I had no doubts that the events at the temple would have played out a whole lot differently. The lines between free will and destiny were often blurred. And that was the truth. “Please continue,” I said. “I want to hear the rest of this.”

  “Justice and I continued down our path, seeing a steady pile of the remains of the basilisk’s dinner,” Hedley said. “Then the passageway forked again when we came to a great chasm. Across the chasm the passageway continued, and we were sure that it connected with the passage Gulth Scorn had ventured down alone. The chasm was too great for us to leap across, but certainly not for a basilisk. Justice heard a scratching from where the other fork led, and thinking it was the basilisk, we girded our loins, drew our weapons, and continued down into the darkness.”

  “Did you and Justice find the basilisk?”

  “No, we did not,” he said. “The passage grew more and more narrow, and we knew at one point that the basilisk was too big to go any further. But the scratching continued, and Justice saw a hole ahead with bright sunlight coming from it.”

  “But weren’t you pretty deep underground at that point?”

  “Indeed we were,” Hedley said. “And Justice, being Justice, stuck his head through the hole and saw the most amazingly lush underground garden.”

  “Where did the light come from? And the scratching?”

  “We were too big to get through, so we could not tell,” Hedley said. “But then we heard the most horrible scream of pain.”

  “Scorn.”

  “It was,” Hedley said. “But he wasn’t the one screaming. As we raced back up the passageway, the scream came again, louder, and the entire cave began to shake. We made it out right as the passageway collapsed. Down we raced to help Gulth, ignoring the danger to ourselves. We came out into a cavern and saw Gulth swinging the Blade of Truth at the basilisk, which he had blinded with two brilliant strokes to its eyes. He rammed the blade into its chest, and unfortunately the dastardly creature spewed every bit of its foul venom on him. And if matters could not be worse, Gulth’s blade had punctured a major artery leading to the basilisk’s evil heart, and Gulth was showered in its vile ochre. The slain basilisk collapsed to the ground, and so, too, dropped Gulth Scorn. We thought him dead. No one could survive that mixture of basilisk blood and venom—not even Gulth Scorn, the one we all thought was the best of us.”

  “But he did survive, as we all know,” I said quietly.

  Hedley nodded. “But he paid the ultimate price. His hair fell out, his muscle and bone
withered away, and his skin was raw and blistered for the better part of a century. He literally was half the man he used to be.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “And he survived and became the Head Magistrate?”

  “He told us he was fine, and that he was just doing what he had to do,” Hedley said. “He had no regrets. But he retreated from the world for a while, living rather simply in isolation. One day for some unknown reason, he decided to become a lawyer, immersed himself in his studies, and stopped talking to all of us completely. He did well as a lawyer and soon became the Head Magistrate of Immortal Divorce Court. His body healed as well as it could, but now I realize that the one thing we could not see was that which was the most damaged of all.”

  “What was that?”

  “His soul.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “Because the poison in those arrows Kunchen was using, and even how you have described him, tells me one thing,” Hedley said. “When Gulth Scorn killed the basilisk that day, he knew something the rest of us did not.”

  “Which was?”

  “She had laid an egg,” Hedley said. “An egg that Gulth Scorn obviously went back to get at some point after he was exposed to the basilisk blood and venom. Clearly, he has hatched it, and is using its venom as a weapon. Ironically, the blood and the venom of the basilisk turned one whose focus was on the rule of law into a creature focused on the Blood of the One and world domination. Who knows what powers he has now?”

  “You are the Master of Masters,” I said. “Don’t you know what basilisk blood and venom can do?”

  “Yes,” Hedley said. “Death. Always death to the affected. But somehow, death did not take Gulth Scorn physically. Justice, Malakar, and I were so thankful that he lived, in our guilt we never considered the fact that perhaps a part of him really did die that day. Over the years that Gulth served on the bench, dispensing law and order, he must have grown weary of the squabbles, deceit, and pettiness of humanity. So he has put down his gavel, and is going to act as judge, jury, and executioner of the world. In fact, he may have found an ingenious way to start the executing.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Just a wild, unproven theory,” Hedley answered. “Let me work it through, and then we can address it.”

  “So you don’t want to tell me because it affects me or someone close to me,” I replied.

  “Knowledge did a really good job in Florence,” the Master of Masters answered.

  “You can only imagine,” I said, grinning ear to ear.

  Hedley shook his head in mock disgust. “I can’t stop you,” he said. “And forget the part where I lecture you about containing that libido of yours.”

  “Well, enough about me and my many talents. The reality is that we have to stop Scorn, don’t we?” I said, trying to digest all Hedley had told me. “Assuming you are correct, I am not really sure how our strategy changes. I mean, we still have to ensure the safety of the Relics. We do not know if the Thief is working for evil or against Scorn and Kunchen as a member of the other faction.”

  “Good points,” Hedley said. “But I am fairly sure my suppositions about Gulth Scorn are correct. Knowledge that I will pass to Justice, Malakar, and perhaps your inner circle of Harvis, Oliver, and Jova. But that is about it. This information is too dangerous to share with anyone else, even the remaining faculty members.”

  “If Scorn thinks we are acting without knowing he is behind the plot to steal the Relics, that is a certain advantage,” I said. “I sure wish a basilisk was not involved though. Talk about that day one thousand years ago being monumentally bad for humanity.”

  Hedley sipped his tequila. “Actually,” he said, “there was some incredible good to come out of that day.”

  “What was that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  “Stuck in the arm hairs of dear Justice were two small white eggs from the mysterious underground chamber,” Hedley said. “A century or so later they hatched—into bookworms.”

  “Knowledge and Wisdom!” I shouted. “So that is their origin. They were birthed by some creature in an underground garden that should not exist, cozied up right next to the Gates of Hell. What were the odds of that?”

  Hedley laughed. “Odds, chance, fate . . . kismet . . . mere details, my boy, mere details. Do some things seemingly defy the rules of the universe, or maybe even someone like me just doesn’t know what those rules truly are? Hmm, a Master of Masters that is fooled just like everyone else . . .”

  “That can’t be so,” I exclaimed. “You are a legend!”

  “Let us just hope that I am not a legend in my own mind,” Hedley said. “What a weird feeling that just was—I think they call it humility. Ah, well, it passed. So, it is time to put my vampire assassin to work—I mean send my instructor in immortal self-defense out for a field study.”

  “So we will continue our missions based here from the school?”

  “We will,” Hedley said. “But now each one will have you and the Professor on it. I don’t think the others will squabble. They might even feel better with you as the target, so to speak.”

  “I am used to that,” I said. “But, I need to send word to Harvis to lock down my blood collection.”

  “He doesn’t have it anymore.”

  “What? Only I can give orders to open that vault.” I said, confused. “What gives?”

  “I had a funny feeling that is now quite ratified that your little collection might be the center of some unwanted attention for Harvis,” Hedley explained. “He and his family have ventured to the American colonies to start a new business.”

  “He said he would never leave London.”

  Hedley shrugged. “I made him an offer he could not refuse. He is now a major landowner in several areas of the colonies.”

  “He left for land?”

  “He left to ensure the safety of his family.”

  “No questions asked?”

  Hedley looked at me curiously. “Not everyone’s offspring can be highly trained killers like yours, you know.”

  I nodded. “Got it,” I said. “But that does not answer how you moved my blood.”

  “You could not be seen doing that,” Hedley said. “And Kunchen, then known as the creeper, was clearly staking out Florence. So I took advantage of that and asked the most inconspicuous creature I could find that had access to the vault.”

  Garlic had awoken from her nap, and walked over to Hedley, who poured her some tequila into a bowl. She barked once, and a wormhole opened. She lapped the tequila, then leaped into the hole, returning a moment later with a mouthful of barn straw that she spat out on the table. Hedley reached under a cabinet and pulled out a harness and backpack. “So that is where she went,” I said. “You could have told me.”

  “You needed to stay focused on your studies,” Hedley said. “And besides, I was not quite sure of Gulth Scorn’s involvement with Kunchen at that point.”

  “Are you telling me everything I need to know now?” I asked, giving the Master of Master my best steely glare.

  Hedley Edrick was not one to be remotely intimidated by anyone—least of all an angry, suspicious vampire. “Of course,” he said, staring back at me. “What else do you want to know?”

  “I know why Kunchen hates me,” I said. “That is easy. In his mind, I defiled Sonam, his chosen one.”

  “In his mind . . . really?”

  “Fine.” I snorted. “She was a willing participant in the defiling. But is there some reason why Gulth Scorn also seems to hate me? I mean besides Garlic defiling his sacred judicial bench.”

  “Are you really asking me that?” Hedley asked. “I don’t have to be the Master of Masters to know the answer. Yes, he hates you for Garlic soiling his bench. But that is not the only reason.”

  “It is not?”

  �
��Nope,” Hedley said. “Yes, you are probably one of the only creatures on this planet capable of foiling his plans. But there is more to it than that. Gulth Scorn lived his life devoted to doing the right thing—basically inventing law and order. Then, there is you . . .”

  I shrugged. “So what are you trying to say?”

  “Think about this,” Hedley said. “Gulth Scorn always did the right thing, and how does fate reward him? By dousing him with a poisonous mixture of basilisk venom and blood that scars him horribly and clearly has eaten away at his soul. Then he sees you come into his courtroom, and he lays down the law to punish you for your insolence, stupidity, bad judgment, and so on. You were going to burn in Hell for one hundred years. All was right with his world because the punishment was going to fit the crime.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Good thing Persephone happened to get control of Hell right as I entered. Now that was an amazing time let me tell you.”

  “Exactly my point,” Hedley said. “Then you were stupid enough to have relations with a werewolf at midnight on a full moon, the Winter Witch on your wedding day to the aforementioned werewolf, and then you get imprisoned in Peel Castle. Justifiably, you should have lost your manhood.”

  “But my goods were enchanted,” I said, “so the Winter Witch couldn’t . . . you know . . .”

  “You are not following me here, are you?” Hedley said, reaching for the tequila again. “Just when the Winter Witch had you dead in her sights, what delightful ruler of the seven seas rescued you?”

  “The Queen,” I said. “But, hey, that time she was thinking all about herself—if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” Hedley said. “But it worked out for you, didn’t it?”

  “I mean sort of, well, yes,” I replied. “I got Maria. But I did have to divorce the Queen and go to Hell again. That was not a whole lot of fun, let me tell you.”

  “But you survived Hell unscathed. Twice. You are most certainly the only person in recorded, or unrecorded, history to have done so.”