by Erica Ridley
“Sorry, Bubbles,” he said to the unblinking where-frog. “No can do.”
Shoulders back, Trevor walked out the door without a second glance.
Daisy rested her sweaty hands on top of the witness stand and did her best to ignore the dozens of familiar faces staring up at her. Maeve, her parents, her neighbors, her ex-coworkers… cripes. Her former neurophysics interns waved sparkly “Free the Fairy” picket signs.
Unmoved and un-amused, D.A. Sangre prowled closer until her blood-spiced breath clogged Daisy’s nostrils.
“I have petitioned for a truth spell,” the D.A. hissed, her lips curving into her trademark feline snarl. “If you do not answer my questions, I have permission to resort to those measures.”
Daisy sneaked a glance up at Judge Banshee, who gave a sharp nod to validate the D.A.’s words. A truth spell authorization. Nothing could have made her more nervous. Or more nauseous. She folded her trembling fingers in her lap and tried to remain calm.
“Yes, I stayed a few days with Trev—with the human. I felt terrible about disrupting his life. Judge Banshee had instructed me to put things to rights. I was there to help him get things back on track.”
D.A. Sangre smirked. “By ‘back on track’, do you mean gallivanting around town playing girlfriend and continuing the unsanctioned physical relationship forbidden by the High Court? Is that what you suppose Judge Banshee meant for you to do?”
Eek. Daisy shifted on the hard wooden seat. She debated how best to phrase her response, terrified of having the wrong word send her straight to imprisonment. The D.A. would love to strip her of her family, her friends, her future. The problem was, Daisy couldn’t be sure whether the truth would set her free… or seal her fate. Heart racing, her fingers compulsively clutched the hem of her dress.
D.A. Sangre mouthed “truth spell” and smiled.
“Not precisely,” Daisy admitted at last, her hands twisting. “But he’s a good guy. I was trying to—”
“The defendant admits her guilt,” D.A. Sangre crowed, facing the audience. She crossed back to her table and sat down with a self-satisfied, “No more questions, Your Honor. The prosecution rests.”
“Look,” Daisy said, her voice shaking. “I—”
“May not speak unless responding to questions posed by counsel,” Judge Banshee interrupted. “Mr. Squatch? Would you like to cross-examine?”
Daisy’s lawyer lumbered to his feet. He nodded at the jury and then loped over to Daisy’s side.
“Urgh.” He leaned in, one furry elbow resting on the edge of the witness stand. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
Daisy nodded slowly. Thank Ogma she’d finished the yeti language course on her LinguaLearner. Grammar and sentence structure was as straightforward as neurophysics. Once the different gargling sounds were mastered, the vocabulary just fell into place.
She straightened her spine and tried to project confidence. “Yes. I do care for him. To me, he’s Trevor Masterson, a person just like you or me. Not just some insignificant human subject. And I am pleased to have undone as much damage as possible. True, the romantic aspect was unauthorized, but…” She craned her neck to face Judge Banshee. “The High Court makes and breaks the rules at their discretion. Couldn’t you rule in favor of allowing a Nether-Netherlandian to pursue a relationship with a human, thus retroactively legalizing all actions undertaken during the course of fulfilling my sentence?”
The judge lifted her gavel.
“Yes.”
Daisy gasped. The crowd gasped. Mr. Squatch gurgled.
“You will?” The words squeaked from her suddenly dry throat, her entire body trembling. “Grant me a permit to interact with Trevor on a personal level, I mean?”
The gavel slapped against the desktop.
“No.” Judge Banshee glared at Daisy’s lawyer. “Next question.”
The dampness heating the back of her neck froze into a solid block of ice. A government-sanctioned fairy-human relationship was possible. But not for her.
Never for her.
“Why not?” she asked hollowly.
“Because you did not pursue the exemption through the proper channels, Miss le Fey. Exceptions will not be made.”
“Urgh,” Mr. Squatch said, his question a low, sympathetic rumble. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
Somehow, she forced her mouth to respond. “That’s right,” she said, the hopeless words sounding flat and dead even to her own ears. “I did follow orders and put things to rights. I put back the teeth, made international phone calls, transcribed documents that listed—”
“Objection!” D.A. Sangre leapt forward. “The defendant wishes her transgressions to be excused simply because she spent her free time playing secretary for a human? Your Honor, she has already admitted her guilt. Any further testimony is a waste of Your Honor’s time.”
“Sustained,” Judge Banshee agreed, hopping onto the corner of her desk. “Miss le Fey. You will be advised that a court order is a court order, and breaking the law necessitates appropriate punishment. Your whims do not outrank those of the High Court.”
“Urgh,” Mr. Squatch protested, raising a furry fist. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
“If you say anything like that again, I’ll have you arrested for contempt of court,” Judge Banshee snapped. “If you have closing arguments, counsel, now is the time to present them.”
Mr. Squatch addressed the jury.
“Urgh.” He gestured toward Daisy. “Urrrrrghhhh.” The paw swept in D.A. Sangre’s direction. “Urrrrrghhhh.” His voice lowered for a final, impassioned, “Urrrrrghhhh.”
D.A. Sangre rose to her feet, but didn’t bother moving closer to the jury.
“Despite Mr. Squatch’s creative adulation of Miss le Fey’s moral character,” she said with a humorless smile, “the defendant has already confessed her guilt. We are not here to examine her charming personality. We are here to mete out justice for crimes committed.”
Her fangs flashed before she took her seat.
Daisy’s stomach clenched. Her fingers worried at the edge of her dress, slowly shredding the hem. This was it. The next few minutes would decide her fate.
Judge Banshee’s small, shiny eyes turned toward Daisy. “Miss le Fey, I warned you the last time, if you violated your probation for any reason—any reason at all—I would instruct the jury to consider the maximum sentence.” She pointed a finger toward the jury box. “Ladies and gentlemen, pixies and trolls. This defendant has shown an utter disregard of both my rulings and the essential laws of Nether-Netherland itself.” Her finger aimed at Daisy. “I therefore recommend you sentence her to nothing less than Purgatory. We will reconvene here as soon as your deliberation has concluded.”
At the disheartening sight of Mr. Squatch’s defeated shrug, Daisy let out a little sob and buried her clammy face in her hands.
The banging gavel echoed through the courtroom like gunshots.
Normally, finals meant Trevor was one week closer to getting on the baseball diamond. This time, each exam brought him one step closer to getting a pink slip.
As soon as the morning exam ended, he picked up his cellphone and started on the monstrous list of esteemed historians, anthropologists, and archaeologists with any background at all in Scottish history and lore. He begged the ones who spoke English to mail, email, or fax him any scrap of information they could find on Angus the Explorer, the Scottish trading company, or period stoneware.
The ones who didn’t speak English were treated to a humiliatingly butchered website-generated translation of his basic query, followed by muttered cursing when he couldn’t understand the response. He couldn’t ask any university colleagues for help if he wanted a prayer of confidentiality. In other words, he was completely hosed.
If Daisy were here, he’d be glad to hand her the phone and let her determine any useful information. Screw that. If Daisy were here, he’d snatch her up in a massive hug and beg her to stay. One long weekend hadn’t been enough. He wasn’t sure a week, a month, a year would’
ve been enough.
His forehead dropped to his desktop.
“Stop thinking about her,” he muttered. “You’ll make yourself crazy.”
“What was that?” came a smarmy voice from the doorway.
Choking back a strangled curse, Trevor jerked his head up in time to see Dr. Papadopoulos frowning at him from the hallway, flanked by Berrymellow.
Nice. His mortal enemy and the department head had caught him talking to himself. Or rather, speaking to his desktop. Even better.
“Nothing.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. “You, ah… caught me in a power nap.”
“Sleeping on the job, Professor?” Berrymellow raised his eyebrows at Dr. Papadopoulos. “Told you he was lazy.”
“I work twice as many hours as you do,” Trevor snapped, then cursed inwardly when he realized he’d been goaded into responding down at Berrymellow’s level. “I actually just got off the phone with some international collaborators.”
“Hmm.” Although Dr. Papadopoulos didn’t voice an opinion, her eyes were as sharp and quick as ever. “How is the research going?”
“Definitely moving in a positive direction,” he answered confidently. Confident that the outlook was positively bleak, that is. If he didn’t have something real very soon, his career was going to be over.
Outside the courtroom doors, Daisy stood sandwiched between her parents and Maeve. If it weren’t for their support—both emotionally and physically—she doubted she’d have managed to stay upright. Every minute of the jury’s endless deliberation chopped at her confidence in the legal system until hope for her future was nothing more than a foolish dream.
“Sentencing,” came a shout from inside the courtroom.
Two trolls stepped forward and grabbed Daisy by the arms. They led her back to the defense’s table, where Mr. Squatch waited. Due to a combination of his height and his furry face, she couldn’t gauge how worried he was about the outcome of the case.
Daisy was utterly terrified. By the looks of their faces, so were her friends and family.
“All rise,” the court gnome hollered from his perch beside the bench.
Judge Banshee scrabbled up the side of the desk and onto her perch. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
A faun stepped forward, clutching a slip of paper. “We have, Your Honor.”
“Well, how do you find?” shrilled the judge.
The faun slunk Daisy an apologetic look.
Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. No. It couldn’t be! She clutched at her attorney’s shaggy pelt.
“We find the defendant,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Guilty as charged.”
Daisy staggered as if each word had drawn blood.
Judge Banshee hopped across her desk. “I see no need to put off sentencing when the defendant has already been warned she would receive the maximum sentence if I found her back in my courtroom.” Her gavel sliced through the air, banging against her desk like a gong tolling for the dead. “Mandatory clerical detention stint. Five years. Purgatory. No visitors.”
Five. Years.
Daisy wilted against Mr. Squatch’s warm, matted side. Soon even he would be ripped from her. Everything she knew, everyone she cherished, gone.
“No!” Mama screamed from a few rows behind. “There’s the law, and then there’s common sense. These charges are ridiculous. She may have violated the terms of her probation, but she had good intentions at heart. I won’t stand for such a severe—”
“You’ll stand in lockdown,” Judge Banshee shrieked, “unless you sit down and shut up. I’ll have order in my court or I’ll have you removed!”
Daisy twisted around in time to see the horrified expressions on her parents’ faces. Dad reached out his hand with a strangled, “Daisy…” before the trolls were upon her, wrenching her forward with their iron grip.
Vivian Valdemeer sat in the back of the courtroom, thrilled with how well her plan was unfolding.
Daisy’d been carried away, bound with anti-magic chains to keep her from kicking the trolls. The judge was not in the best of moods. Getting Arabella out of the picture would be easy—the picture-perfect loudmouth was engineering her own downfall.
Poor A.J., stuck with that mouthy harridan. Even his gorgeous wings drooped below his shoulders. His new future with Vivian would be a welcome respite for the poor man. She couldn’t wait to have the big sexy guardian angel to herself, as well as all the power and perks that came with being his lifemate. All of which should’ve been hers in the first place.
How delicious to finally have the opportunity to steal her ex-boyfriend back!
“Reverse these charges,” Arabella yelled up at the increasingly annoyed judge. “If you would’ve just granted an inter-dimensional relationship permit, these trumped-up charges would be moot!”
“But I didn’t, and they’re not.” Judge Banshee leapt on top of her desk and hopped around on all fours. “Submit an appeal if you disagree.”
Arabella ran down the aisle and up to the desk, shaking a dainty fist at the enraged judge. If she kept up the attitude, Ms. Fairy Godmother could earn a trip to Purgatory, too.
Shaking her head in secret glee, Vivian sidled up to A.J. and ever so gently laid a palm on his bicep.
“It’s so terrible about our Daisy.” She debated whether or not she dared to give him a hug. She could play it off as compassionate commiseration, but… she didn’t want him to think of her as friendly, sisterly. She wanted him to think of her as sexy. Indispensable. Superior to Arabella, who was blathering incoherently and two seconds away from getting kicked out of the courtroom.
If Vivian played her cards right, maybe she could get Miss Perfect kicked out of Nether-Netherland forever.
“You know…” Vivian allowed her tone to subtly rise in volume. “I’m surprised Arabella didn’t try to prevent this when she went down to Earth to visit Daisy. Seems like that might’ve been a good time to remind the girl to stay out of the human’s bedroom.”
“When she what?” A.J. growled, his white-feathered wings blooming behind him.
Arabella slowly turned away from the judge’s desk, her painted mouth slack and gaping.
“Didn’t she tell you?” Vivian lifted one shoulder in a sultry shrug and decided to embellish the truth for dramatic effect. “She popped into a busy university right in front of the human’s companions and started firing off her wand. One of them ended up immobilized in stone.” She gave a practiced little laugh and patted his arm. “I’m sure it was all a silly mistake.”
Abandoning her tirade at the judge, Arabella whirled toward Viv. “You were spying on me? You jealous, conniving—”
“Daisy told me,” Vivian interrupted, loving how the lie drained the blood from Arabella’s pretty face. “We’re very close. She’s like a daughter to me.”
“You mean it’s true?” A.J. advanced toward Arabella, palms facing upward. “You knew Daisy was having illegal contact with the human and didn’t tell me? You snuck down to Earth behind my back?”
“You’re an angel,” Arabella protested, her face and tone beseeching. “You get all bent out of shape when I fudge the rules. Besides, if Vivian had done better fact-checking in the first place, Daisy would never have been sent to a grown man for a fossilized tooth.”
Judge Banshee banged the gavel. “Quiet!”
“An honest mistake,” Vivian quickly assured A.J. with a winning smile. “A simple typo. Hardly the same ballpark as materializing in front of unsuspecting humans and using unauthorized magic to encase one in rock.” No harm in neglecting to mention that the human statue had snapped out of it after a few moments, no worse for the wear. “Besides,” she purred, looking up at A.J. through carefully curled eyelashes, “at least I don’t lie to you. I admit my mistakes.”
“A.J., sweetie,” Arabella choked out. “You’re not buying this garbage, are you? Whose ‘mistake’ got our daughter into this mess?”
“‘Mistake’,” A.J. repeated.
“You teleported to Earth in front of witnesses, used magic on a human, and lied to me about your involvement.”
“Some of which,” Vivian pointed out with a wink in Arabella’s direction, “is illegal. Oh dear, did you just confess in the middle of a courtroom?”
“Trollop,” Arabella spat. “By all that’s holy, that’s the last time you—”
“Silence! Arabella le Fey, you can cool your anger in a holding facility.” Judge Banshee threw her hands heavenward. “If you try my patience, you’ll get worse than that.”
“You’re an idiot!” Arabella threw her hands in the air and glared at the judge. “I’m not the problem. My daughter’s not the problem. The problem is your inability to recognize that woman’s blatant manipulation of everything and everyone!”
“I’ve had it,” Judge Banshee shrilled. “Guards! Take her away!”
Vivian kept her palm on A.J.’s arm as the beleaguered trolls dragged Arabella from the courtroom. Vivian peered up at him, softening her gaze as though she gave a damn what happened to his flighty lifemate. Rather, ex-lifemate.
She smiled. Everything was finally back on track. No more daughter, no more mother, no more problems.
Chapter 22
Nothing like starting your morning with a five-year trip down Purgatory Lane.
Daisy lifted her arms over her head and suffered through the search process at the anti-magic checkpoint. They were wasting their time. Even if she’d somehow managed to bring a wand with her, the only person she was a danger to was herself. She’d manufactured a newer wand, but it still botched spells one time out of every ten. If she’d just had a little more time… but no. There was no more time, and no escape.