A Courtroom of Ashes

by C. S. Wilde

  I keep my head low. Sweat drips from the tip of my nose, falls on the sand. A few strands of hair fall over my eyes or stick to my forehead, and I need to brush them away, but my hands are tied behind my back. The sand stings my knees and the sunlight hurts my eyes. Every muscle in my body pounds, but I remain as still as rock.

  Red Seth lifts his hands and the crowd silences.

  “Today, we’ll be witnessing history once again, brothers and sisters.” He turns to each Shade—or most of them—as if they’re special. In return they glare back at Red Seth with such gratitude it makes me sick. “Bowman will lead you while I’m away, and when I’ve fulfilled my time on earth, I’ll have brought millions of souls to our army!”

  The crowd cheers, jumping up and down and shouting unintelligible words.

  Fools.

  Red Seth lifts his hands again and silence falls like an iron fist.

  “Our army will be invincible! We’ll conquer Death, and we’ll conquer Heaven and Hell! We’ll conquer all!”

  That’s precious! I let out a giggle at first, then a few chuckles that become full-on laughs. I can’t hold them in. At first, my laughter is muffled by the crowd, but soon enough, all I hear is me, guffawing against a murderous silence. I notice Bowman stepping forward to hit me, but Red Seth lifts his hand and he stops.

  “Why such joy?” Red Seth asks.

  I gasp; can’t speak, only laugh. Red Seth waits patiently until I’m calm again.

  “Conquer Hell?” A few giggles escape here and there. “Hell is after you, and you’re so scared that you brainfucked all these idiots into starting a war.” I lift my head and look at him. “All this army mumbo jumbo to hide the fact that Red Seth, the badass devil, is pissing his pants with fear.”

  He sets his mouth into a grim line, blood-eyes burning with rage. He raises his hand, ready to give me the slap of a lifetime.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The familiar voice comes from behind.

  No! Please, no! But there he is, standing like a knight, his blond hair glimmering in the sunlight. Perfect, beautiful, and oh so stupid!

  “Johnny boy,” Red Seth grins. “How nice of you to join us.”

  Two Shades immediately take John down, tying him. He doesn’t resist. He knows there’s no point, not when we’re dipped in a sea of monsters. They drop him by my side so we’re both kneeling before Red Seth.

  John’s eyes fill with agony once he takes a good look at me. I must be a sight for sore eyes, all beaten up, sweating and dark blue.

  His voice falters. “Are you all right?”

  “Peachy.” I attempt a reassuring smile but fail. “They killed,” I can’t say that Barry is dead aloud. Saying it makes it more real, and I know that’s stupid, but I can’t go ahead.

  John nods. “I know.”

  Shouting at John feels like the right thing to do. I came here to protect him, and he’s just made everything I’ve gone through pointless. I’ve lost Barry and now I’ll lose him too. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  He opens a rueful smile. “Did you really expect me not to?”

  Oh John, my perfect, idiotic John.

  “I’ve got to admit, Johnny boy, you know how to pick them.” Red Seth cocks his head to the right, observing me. “We had fun trying to tame her.”

  “I’ll annihilate you,” John growls at Red Seth, then shifts his attention to Bowman. “Both of you.”

  “You’ll try, you self-assured punk.” Red Seth’s forehead cringes in the way of someone who’s deeply appalled. “You look horrid! You should return to the right side; blue suits you.”

  John’s reply is his furious stare, but Red Seth doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Love is a beautifully stupid thing, isn’t it? You were very noble, coming here to die with her.” Red Seth takes Belaphona from his pocket and kneels, swinging it in front of me. The red ruby shines like a beacon. “This is it, pup. This is the moment you doom all the ones you love into a life of blood and pain.”

  I can’t allow this, but I can’t break free. John will be obliviated right after me and so will Tommy and countless people after them, and I can’t do shit about it. I’m defenseless and pathetic.

  We can change things. Off with their heads. Off with everyone’s heads.

  I shut my eyes, as if my ears can shut along with them and make Red Seth and the voices go away.

  “Did you ever tell her?” Red Seth asks. When I open my eyes, he’s peering at John.

  “Don’t you—”

  “Ah, interesting.” Red Seth licks his lips and puts Belaphona back in his pocket. “Pup, I think you deserve a farewell gift.” He looks at John and me. The shine in his eyes reminds me of a child waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve.

  John’s tone shifts from defying to pleading. “No, please, anything but that.”

  It’s unnatural to witness John beg, and I wonder if he has an agenda, but maybe it’s me, clinging to the image of the fearless guy I met for what seems an eternity ago.

  Red Seth turns to me. “I hope you’re ready for the ride.”

  “Santana, it was the only way to—” Red Seth interrupts John by stamping his hands against our foreheads, and everything around me spins.

  33

  I’m lying belly to the ground. My cracked lips feel warm and wet, and when I touch them, my fingertips become smudged with red mixed with sand, a close enough match to my light olive skin. Sand everywhere, sticking to my face, nostrils and venturing deep into the open wounds on my lips. I try to splutter some, but most stays where it was.

  Wait. Light olive, not a shade of blue. My skin is back to its natural color.

  What’s happening?

  There’s a body some feet away, crouched in a shell shape. I get up, but the other person remains on the ground. It’s a man, peppered with sand on his wet gray suit. “John!”

  I run to him, but he doesn’t turn my way. I shout his name again, but he doesn’t move. He must be injured, and despair takes over me as I run—the same piercing ache of finding Mother motionless in the bathtub.

  John woozily stands up, and I feel like I can breathe again. He’s all right, I tell myself.

  Only he isn’t. Flesh hangs where his left arm used to be, and shock freezes me right where I stand.

  “Hello!” John screams at the desert.

  I’ll get his arm fixed, I don’t know how, but I will. “John!”

  I run until I’m eye to eye with him, but he stares right past me. “John? I’m right here!”

  He walks through me as if I were a ghost, and I yelp in shock, only to realize he has already passed me and I didn’t feel a thing.

  What’s going on?

  “Hello?” he yells. “Is anybody there?”

  “I am!” But he doesn’t hear me.

  The sky shifts from day to night, night to day, and I follow John’s every move, from the unending walks across the desert to every word he shouts into the wilderness. Sometimes he lets out mad, hysterical laughs. Sometimes he bursts into tears. I hug myself and focus on staying sane, watching the man I love lose his mind. I need to embrace him, tell him that he’s not alone, but he can’t see or hear me. I don’t know much about Hell, but it can’t be worse than this.

  Day and night come and go but John’s suffering never stops. It must be midday now, and John has been lying on the ground for a while, motionless. Tears run from his face and drip onto the sand. He doesn’t blink.

  I crouch in front of him and brush my hand over his cheek, begging him to see me, but his numbness persists.

  “You lost, boy?” The voice comes from behind John.

  I lift my head to stare at Red Seth, his eyes the color of moss, hair long and crimson. There’s no sign of blood in it yet, but he’s balding at the top of his head. The way he looks and moves reminds me of an albino salamander.

  John rolls over and sits straight, wiping tears from his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Red Seth. And you?”

  “John Br
aver.” He stands up. “Where am I? What happened to my plane?”

  “You’re dead.”

  “Ha. Very funny,” John says without laughing.

  Red Seth starts in a calming manner, “You’re missing an arm and haven’t gone into shock. You’re in the middle of a desert, but that’s not the point. You know you’re dead. You’re not a Haunting, and those are the only ones around here who don’t know they’re gone.”

  “Haunting?” John asks, but the lost look in his eyes says he couldn’t care less. He slams one hand over his forehead. “Oh God…” John’s breathing accelerates, his lips tremble. He drops his head, golden hair covering his eyes. “I had so much to do. So much to say…”

  Red Seth shrugs. “Life’s a bitch, but Death is a much better lover, boy.”

  John sniffs, fighting tears. Red Seth observes him thoroughly, the way a lion observes a gazelle. “You know, me and my pack could use another guy. We’re stronger if we stick together.” Red Seth gives John his hand. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say he was a genuine good soul trying to help someone in need.

  John stares at Red Seth, his fist balled beside his leg. He doesn’t seem to trust Red Seth, but he doesn’t have another option. A battle of instinct versus reason, I guess. A battle very familiar to me.

  “Suit yourself.” Red Seth turns around and walks. “But remember, eternity can be a lonely place.”

  “Wait,” John says.

  I don’t need to see Red Seth’s face to know that he’s smiling.

  John takes a few seconds, as if he’s measuring his options one last time. Finally, he runs to Red Seth and they start walking side by side.

  The desert swirls into a blur. The nausea of riding a rollercoaster ten times in a row takes me completely, and just when I think I might faint or throw up, everything stops.

  A bunch of Shades surround me now, and adrenaline shoots up my veins. I look at my skin: olive. This means I’m still trapped in what has to be John’s memories.

  John and Red Seth stand by my side. Ahead of us, kneeling in the middle of the circle, is a Shade with its hands and feet tied. It looks so skinny and fragile, whispering the word “mercy” like a prayer. In response, the crowd of Shades intones “blood.”

  John holds a machete in his right and only hand, eyeing the Shade. This doesn’t seem like him at all, John would never harm someone weaker than him. But he has changed. His suit is ragged at the ends and his white shirt is gone, showing his bare chest. He’s lost a lot of weight and his once lustrous blond hair has grown so thin that it shows bald spots. His eye whites have turned into a dark shade of gray.

  He lifts the machete and a migraine hits my brain with a sniper’s precision.

  It’s all blurry for a second, but when things come into focus, I’m in the middle of a luxurious office. Blue curtains hang on either side of a spacious white-framed window. A round indigo carpet separates the floor from a crafted wooden desk. A brown leather chair rests behind the desk, and John is sitting in it, signing some papers.

  The whole office shivers like a TV with bad reception. A fat man in a violet suit, who wasn’t there a moment ago, now sits in a black chair before John’s desk. I stand by the man’s side and look down at him. His front teeth are too big for his mouth, like a beaver.

  He says, “Senator, need I remind you that if you approve the amendment I forwarded you, my client will fully cover the costs for your next year’s campaign?”

  John looks up at him without moving his head. I’ve seen this look before, in fifth grade. Mrs. Templeton had shot it at me after I smashed a plate of potato puree in Jane Norquay’s face.

  “You’re suggesting bribery.” John’s tone is harsh and bitter and a hundred percent pissed off. “I find it hard to believe you went through law school without knowing that’s a felony.”

  The beaver’s face wrinkles with annoyance. “You may be Honest John, but that’s not all it takes to win re-election, especially if my associates start spreading nasty rumors about your father’s tax returns and your mother’s after-work activities with the pool man.”

  John slams his fist on the desk, making the objects on it stutter. The entire room wavers with his strike, and for a second, there’s not one, but three Johns ahead of me: purple, dark yellow, and navy.

  Beaver gulps but smiles at the same time. “Pity. You were doing such a great job with those new environmental state regulations.”

  My head is shot by a pounding pain, and I’m back in the middle of the circle. The suns shimmer above and I get the feeling that it should be blazing hot today, but I can’t feel anything, not even the air.

  John lifts the machete. The skinny Shade looks at him and whimpers, “Mercy, please.”

  John seems to wake from a trance and lowers the machete. “This isn’t right.”

  “Of course it’s right,” Red Seth points to the Shade who begs for mercy. “This man tried to leave our pack, and our law is clear: Death to deserters!” Red Seth talks to John but addresses all other Shades at the same time. “They weaken us. We’re stronger together!”

  The Shades roar in agreement. Red Seth puffs up his chest and widens his evil smile. It’s obvious he’s enjoying this.

  “Isn’t being dead punishment enough?” John says.

  “Everybody here is dead, John. We’ve all been punished.” Red Seth’s nostrils flare. “Did you rob houses back in Life?” He points to the defenseless Shade. “He did. Does he deserve the same treatment as you?”

  John gulps, turning away from Red Seth’s glare. “Most of this pack is made of murderers and thieves. Who are we to decide what happens to him?”

  Red Seth leans closer to John and snaps through his teeth, “Stop pretending to be better than us.” He cups John’s cheeks between his hands in the same manner of a loving father. “We’re your family, and this man is a threat to all of us. He cannot leave.”

  John turns away, eyes closed. He won’t do it.

  Red Seth lays his hand gently on John’s left shoulder. “If I kill him, you get nothing. If you kill him, I might consider helping you out with certain…issues.” His hand brushes the stump where John’s arm used to be.

  Bastard. This manipulative megalomaniac is trying to destroy Honest John and replace him with one of his monsters.

  “You have to remain strong,” I tell John, but he doesn’t listen. I slam my hands against his chest but they pass through him. “You’re not one of them!”

  John opens his eyes and hope flickers inside me. He’ll do the right thing, he always does.

  “He dies anyway,” he mutters to himself, takes a deep breath and lifts the machete.

  Still standing in front of him, even though the blade could cut me in half, I pray that he’ll listen. “You’re better than this! Taking a bribe was bad but you could’ve done so much worse. Anyone would understand your reasons! Don’t let Red Seth convince you that you’re as bad as he is!”

  It’s pointless. The machete rushes down, cutting through me. I flinch, arms over my head, but then I remember that it can’t hurt me.

  The machete severs the man’s skull, stopping right above his mouth. Half of “mercy” remains printed on his lips, before the Shade dissolves into pitch-black dust.

  John’s skin turns dark blue and his eye whites shift to night black. His blond hair falls to the ground. He looks monstrous: hairless, with big bulged demon eyes, cracked lips, and no eyebrows.

  “No,” I croak, wanting to rip this monster apart to bring the true John back.

  Red Seth pats him on the back. “Good boy. Now, let’s get your reward for putting family first.”

  “You son of a bitch!” I punch Red Seth in the face, but it’s futile. I can’t make a difference in John’s past. “You’ve ruined him!”

  A sudden boom echoes in the distance. Hell broke through the ground, burning, blazing, and it’s sucking chunks of Red Seth’s army.

  “What’s that?” John asks as screaming Shades are dragged toward the f
lames.

  Most Shades manage to clutch the ground or stab their swords in the sand or even stand, but a few still get sucked away.

  John’s feet start dragging on the ground. He’s being pulled.

  “That’s Hell, boy!” Red Seth glares at the fiery mouth and grins in defiance. He crouches like a lion and stabs his fingers into the sand. “You better hold on to me!”

  John does so right before he starts fluttering in the air, and if it wasn’t for his hands, tightly wrapped around Red Seth’s arms, he’d have been swallowed.

  Everything spins into a blur and suddenly I’m alone in the desert. No sign of Hell, Red Seth, or John.

  Where am I now?

  “John!” I cry, even though it’s fruitless.

  Feet shuffle from behind. It’s a Shade, dressed in gray rags. He’s completely bald, his skinny chest is bare, and his skin dark blue. This must be Bowman, because he has two well-defined arms, but as he passes, I spot Spritebreaker in a black-and-blue scabbard on his back.

  Oh God. It’s John.

  Red Seth tainted the man I love; it’s all his fault, and I’ll cut his balls for what he’s done. Kill him…kill them all. Kill John.

  That didn’t make any sense. Why would I kill him? This isn’t his fault. He’s the victim.

  The voice replies, louder and clearer by the second. He killed an innocent. No more deaths of the lamb.

  I shake my head. These thoughts are freaking me out; they’re pure madness and raw anger.

  Kill.

  Shut up!

  John wanders across the desert and I follow him, until he encounters a woman who’s meditating amidst the nothingness. She’s got her back to me and John. Her silky black hair is tied up in a bun, and she wears a white gown similar to the Lummeni robes.

  He walks until he’s standing in front of her and asks, “Who are you?”

  “Someone.” She looks up to him. “Who are you?”

  “John Braver, right arm of Red Seth.”

  “Nice to meet you, John Braver.”

  “You need to come with me,” he orders more than says.

  “Why?”

  “You’re dead and this is a horrible place. We’re stronger together.”