by Peter Hartz
“Tristan, honey, look at me. Tristan, come on, look at me. It’s ok. I’m here, baby. Look at me.” After what seemed like hours but was in reality only a few minutes, the sound of her voice and the feel of her hands on him, pulling at him gently but firmly, reached deeply into his psyche past the walls and doors his consciousness had retreated behind, to finally register. The sound and feel of her pulled at him, but he resisted. The pain was so great back there, out in the world. And he didn’t deserve redemption, that much was clear. Better to end it all in here. Better to stay here for all time. He knew he was hiding away, and that staying there would be the end of him, and he didn’t care.
But the sound of that voice that he loved so much, and the feel of her hands that he missed so completely, had caused something to flare in the darkness of his retreat. Hope suddenly appeared somewhere deep off in the distance, like a single match lit in the darkness of endless night, a long ways away. He turned away from it, not wanting to believe it was real. It couldn’t be real, and even if it was, hope was for those that deserved it.
But hope sometimes is a thing that will not be denied. And as Belinda called his name over and over, and gently caressed his hands and face, wiping away his tears, that tiny flickering light slowly grew, and with it, presence of mind slowly returned.
Paul stared at the… whatever she was… that had been the little neighborhood girl he and his wife had welcomed into their family all those years ago. When Tristan had called him, and told him to come over, Paul had heard the tears in his only child’s voice, and feared that the worst had happened. He told Tristan not to do anything, not to call anyone, and just wait for him to show up.
His protective instincts had flared into life when he saw what had happened, and that irrational instinct to protect his child had overridden his duty to uphold the law and do the right thing. Now, he saw that he had failed to protect his son from the one thing that no one could: himself. And Paul was ashamed.
Diana turned to the judge, and just stared, with one eyebrow raised. He was so completely focused on the scene on his courtroom floor that he didn’t notice her gaze at first. When he finally did, he almost jerked out of his chair. As his eyes met those of the incredible being that had so turned his courtroom upside down this day, he knew what she expected, demanded, required of him. He cleared his throat, and banged his gavel for attention.
Most of the eyes in the court room turned to him, including the white-faced prosecutor, the astonished public defender, and the eyes of the young man who had, until today, expected to spend the rest of his life in prison for something he didn’t do. The judge paused, looking into those eyes of the young man that the justice system had nearly condemned to life in prison unfairly, and a part of him wilted inside. How could the system get it so wrong? How could he have missed... whatever had been missed in this case, and allow this young man to be found guilty? He glanced at the prosecutor, and saw... something on the man’s face, and in an instant, he knew what the prosecutor knew: Koren Daniel Davis was innocent. Completely, utterly, innocent. Judge Hastings fought the sudden urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the bench in front of him. The prosecutor knew! That rotten, horrible bastard!
He put that thought aside to be processed later, and cleared his throat again.
“Given the extraordinary circumstances of this hearing, I am vacating with prejudice all convictions, and declaring the defendant free to go. The bench will refuse hear any motions to retry this case against the defendant, and will hold in contempt any prosecuting attorney should they attempt to do so. That is all.” He banged his gavel once again, and looked back into the eyes of the Goddess once more.
She looked back at him with a twinkle in her eye, and she smiled at him. A wave of warmth and happiness flowed through him briefly, and he smiled back, only to frown once more as the weight of the proceedings intruded again.
Koren stepped back, bumping into the defense table, stunned at the sudden turn of events. Then he turned as he heard voices behind him, and was barely able to brace himself before his mother, a hefty woman, crashed into him, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Her tears soaked into his orange jumpsuit as she held her son tight, thanking God over and over, when she felt a presence beside her.
Martha Davis turned, and gasped as the Goddess Diana looked into her eyes, and smiled. A hand went to her shoulder, and the sensation of the touch washed through her.
“Thank you for freeing my Koren! Thank you!” She flung her arms around the Goddess, who laughed lightly, a sound that conjured the feeling of a gentle breeze on a warm summer’s day, hugging the mortal woman back.
“You are welcome, mortal.” A nod of her head accompanied the statement, then she turned away, back to face the now white-faced police officer still lying on the floor, propped up on an elbow.
“Your crimes are many in this happening, human. You are a guard of the city, yes?” At his short nod, she spoke again, her voice harsh and unforgiving. “You have failed at your duty to protect the innocent. Worse still, you have caused an innocent to be punished for the misdeeds of another. You also failed as a father, since you tried to shield your son from the consequences of his actions, something no one has a right to do for anyone. Your deeds speak of a man without honor, and one neither fit to keep laws of humans or Gods, nor fit to be a father. A child of such a man cannot be expected to uphold the precepts of honor as required of all men and women. And yet, I sense in your child a burning desire for what is right and good to be upheld.”
Diana glanced down at where Belinda and Tristan huddled on the floor, his head in her lap as his eyes remained tightly squeezed shut. She held on to him while gently caressing his face, whispering to him, trying to pull him back from deep inside where he had shuttered himself, while he muttered and moaned, rocking back and forth.
It was obvious that Tristan Smith was hurting, but those in the court room found it difficult to have any sympathy for him because of the act of violence which ended Belinda’s young life. Belinda’s actions confused the thoughts of those that might try to condemn him in their own thoughts, however. Her obvious concern for her killer greatly complicated things in the eyes and hearts and minds of the spectators.
Paul Smith looked over had his son, and realized that he couldn’t protect his only child from what was happening to him now. His son was broken and alone, trapped deep inside his mind where only his demons roamed, howling and tearing at his soul. He tried to reach out to Tristan, but a look from both Diana and Belinda stopped him cold.
Diana turned to the judge, and spoke once more. “Do your laws condemn the deeds of this oath breaker? Or must I mete out Justice of mine own to right the scales?”
“He has broken several laws, and will be held accountable. Bailiffs, take the officer into custody.” The iron-cast voice of the judge broke into Paul’s thoughts, and he stiffened in fear. He started to rise, but a wolf saw the action, and its head snapped towards him, its body going completely still while a low growl heralded bared teeth. He sank back to the floor, and waited for someone to come and get him, fearful of what would happen should he resist.
Diana watched the proceedings with skepticism plainly on her face. It was clear that she had her doubts about what would happen to the officer. She turned to the judge, and spoke once again.
“I shall watch over what happens to that mortal. Should I be dissatisfied with what happens to him, I will return and deal more directly with this brigand.”
Paul’s face went white as he heard the cold anger in the Goddess’s strange voice, and he shuddered. Any thoughts of fighting the charges he guessed would be coming at him evaporated as he slumped down, wishing he could disappear.
Cuffing the officer’s hands behind him and relieving him of his utility belt and other accessories took moments, and he was lifted up to his feet and walked back to the holding area behind the courtroom, all the while looking over his shoulder at his only child.
“What do you have to say for yourself, mortal?”
“I… ash...” Nothing came to mind that would make what happened here any better, and Donald suddenly came to the conclusion that saying nothing would probably be the only way to not make things worse. His mouth closed almost with a snap, and he simply glared at the supernatural being in front of him.
Diana reached out one hand, palm uppermost, and curled the fingers in a motion that seemed to be pulling gently at something unseen. As she completed the motion, the image of a private conference room appeared to float in midair above her hands. It was small at first, but at a motion from Diana’s hand, it grew until it was near life-sized, becoming three-dimensional and true to life, as gasps came from almost everyone in the room at the impossible happening in front of their very eyes. Koren had the almost whimsical thought that it was a good thing the high ceiling in the room they were in was so high, or the scene the Goddess was displaying wouldn’t have been able to fit. As it was, everyone in the room leaned in towards the conjured image.
The conference room in the floating conjuration was well furnished. The main table was dark cherry wood with a finish that was polished to a glassy finish, and big enough to seat at least ten comfortably along both sides. Two men sat at the table near one end, frozen in time. Koren realized that one was the prosecutor, but he didn’t recognize the other.
The judge did, though. It was Mark Gadsden, the county attorney, the man Collins reported to. With a slight gesture, the conjured scene came to life.
“So you think that you will be able to get a conviction in the Belinda McCrae case?” Gadsden was asking Collins. The younger man nodded in response, a smile on his face.
“Yes, no problem. The work my assistant Kellen did is top shelf. He is going to make a good prosecutor someday. No, I don’t foresee any difficulties. One more little gang-banger druggie off the streets. That’s always a good thing.” Collins laughed, a sound that was anything but pleasant, given the context.
Gadsden shook his head. “You really don’t like them that much, do you?”
“Not really. What difference does it make? I wish all those little pieces of shit would just go back to Africa. Leave this country to those who deserve it. Hell, they can’t even learn to speak proper English!”
A shocked silence descended on the courtroom as the scene paused. Collins looked around wildly, desperate to be any place but here. He surged out of his chair, and started to make a break for it, but someone stopped him in his tracks.
Ariana Wilmington had grown up in a very affluent suburb, the child of a doctor father and a lawyer mother. Her parents had been so very proud of her when she announced that she was going to law school, and wanted to be a defense attorney. And that pride only grew when she took a role in the public defender’s office. Ariana had been taught from a very young age that honor and integrity mattered the most in a society where laws didn’t really prevent crime. Laws only dealt with punishing the guilty, and sometimes, in rare cases, provided some restitution to the victims. In many cases, though, victims could never be made whole again.
Now, the slender young woman stood, and as Collins made his break to run out of the room, she stepped up, and put the lessons of her latest fitness regimen to work, a hard right cross catching the bigger, older man in motion squarely on the left side of his jaw. The impact snapped his head back around, turning his whole body with as he fell to the floor, unconscious.
“Wow! Man that hurt!” Ariana shook her hand as the pain welled up, and held it tightly with her right hand. Still holding her injured hand, the young public defender suddenly realized what had happened, and turned beet red. Turning to face the judge, she tried to think of what to say.
“Uh, Your Honor… I… hum…”
The judge looked at her in astonishment. What else could possibly happen to totally break down the decorum in court today? The day was getting stranger and stranger. What the hell did he do now?
“Young lady, what did you just do? Is it your place to stop him?” The anger in his voice was slightly tempered by the memory that Collins had been about to flee the courtroom after being revealed to be a racist who most likely knew he was prosecuting someone who was innocent. He tried to focus on the violent act in front of him, and deal with that while he tried to determine what he needed to do to regain control of the room.
“I apologize to the court, Your Honor. I realize that my actions were incredibly wrong and inappropriate. I was just so angry when I heard what he said to his boss, that – there is no excuse for my behavior. Again, I apologize.” Ariana was blushing so hard that her entire upper body felt like it was going to burst into flames. She ducked her head, unable to meet the gaze of the angry jurist in front of her, and then winced as the pain continued to get worse.
Her boxing instructor had told her that hitting someone without a glove would probably break her hand if she wasn’t careful on choosing where to land her punch. He was right, she thought now. She most certainly broke something in her hand. And probably, she just broke her career, too. All that work for nothing. What had she been thinking? Well, she could always go to her mother’s firm and practice there, if she didn’t get disbarred.
The Goddess had been looking at the older man laid out unmoving on the floor from the single punch of the young woman now holding her hand, when she let out a laugh.
What Judge Hastings was about to say was forgotten when that sound broke in on his thoughts. He looked over at the… was she really was a Goddess after all? Was everything he’d ever been taught about religion and faith just simply... wrong?
He looked over at Ariana Wilmington, then back to the laughing woman that had appeared and turned his court upside down. Diana stared down at the unconscious prosecutor while she laughed a moment more, and then turned to Ariana.
“Mortal child, you are simply delicious. One punch. Amazing!” Then she noticed that the young woman’s hand was hurt, and waved the woman towards her, calling up her Physicked Sight to see what had happened.
The people in the gallery looking at the Goddess were shocked when her green eyes suddenly glowed a bright light that washed her eyes completely white. Diana looked at the woman’s hand, and with another careless wave of her own hand, another flash of green light healed the broken hand. She then placed her hand on the mortal woman’s shoulder, and nodded.
“Well done, my child. You have served the cause of justice this day. I consider you worthy.” The ring of steel in the voice took Ariana’s breath away for a moment, and all she could do was nod in reply. Then when her voice returned, she spoke quietly to herself.
“I just hope I don’t get in too much trouble for that.” Diana heard the words, and raised one eyebrow. The realization that this young girl that had impressed her so much with her willingness to do the right thing might get her in trouble came to her, and she turned back to the judge.
“I consider this girl’s actions to be above reproach. Do not oppose me in this,” she warned, and the judge nodded to acknowledge that he had heard the statement, but frowned just the same.
“Diana, there must be decorum in a court of law. We cannot have people getting physically violent with others in this room, no matter how much they might deserve it. The law is clear in this. What am I supposed to do? The precedent that ignoring this sets is not right. She must be held accountable for her actions. The laws are established to make this country a fair and just place for everyone.”
Donald Collins groaned from his place on the floor as consciousness slowly returned. His jaw hurt for some reason, then it all came back to him and he realized that the public defender had stepped in front of him on his way out the door, and he woke up on the floor. She must have punched him, or something. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw in front of him across the f
loor was Belinda McCrae with Tristan Smith’s head still in her lap, still keening softly to himself as his body rocked back and forth.
Belinda looked up at the sudden movement, and her eyes narrowed as she saw another member of the conspiracy that had almost sent an innocent young man to prison for her own murder. He looked away first as the look in her eyes registered, remembering how easily she had thrown the police officer through the air.
Diana looked down at the now-awakening man, and with a nod, sent her wolves forward to prevent him from escaping her again. Not that it would have mattered in the end. She had gained enough knowledge of him while sifting through his memories that she could find him with just a thought now. Then she turned to the judge once more.
“I care not for the laws you mortals have written. Indeed, the results of those laws almost punished an innocent for the crimes of another. This young woman has stood for my cause, for justice. That she should come to harm so selflessly doing so places her in great esteem in my eyes.” Ariana sucked in a breath as that statement rocked her to her core, but before she could respond, the Goddess continued to speak. “My faith in your doing the right thing is shallow. I shall have one of my wolves protect her. She shall not be harmed for this.”
“Diana, this is not necessary. I must be held accountable, or our entire system of laws breaks down.” The words came out quietly, but with a conviction that impressed the Goddess and the judge.
“Nonetheless, I am not accountable to the laws of mortals. You are something special, child. You are what the humans have oft called a Paladin. Gods and Goddesses have blessed and protected your kind since time immemorial. It is our sworn duty to do so. I will brook no arguments in this.” The last sentence came out sternly, with a hint of warning in the words that was not lost on Ariana.
“But how will I explain a wolf following me… oh my…”
The wolf that would be her protector stepped forward, and shimmered slightly, then in its place stood what appeared to be a young woman, but in armor and a cloak. A sword hung at her left hip, and a smaller blade on her right. The woman’s hair, a pastiche of reds and blacks, matched the fur of the wolf that she had been before, and her eyes were a distinct red-amber color. But the thing that Ariana noticed most was that the young woman standing in front of her was incredibly beautiful, in an exotic, almost wolfish way.