Page 7 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
“And if you don’t get the charges dropped?”
I couldn’t exactly tell this guy that the moment he crossed the wards, he’d forget everything he ever saw or did here in Accident, that our police wouldn’t cross county, or state, lines to hunt down a human for something so minor as getting the upper hand in a fight with a group of werewolves. I couldn’t tell him that although we based our laws on the neighboring human ones, we bent those rules a lot—a whole lot.
“Let’s get you out of here on bail, and worry about all that later, after I talk to the prosecutor.” I grimaced, not exactly looking forward to talking to the prosecutor. I hadn’t seen Marcus…well, I hadn’t seen him since The Incident.
“Sounds good to me.” He stepped back from the bars and eyed the lock.
I went to call the officer and hesitated. “So you don’t have any identification, and you don’t have any money?”
“Just this.” He reached into his pocket showed me something that looked like a brass slug. “Think this will pay my bail?”
I frowned. How did he have that? The police should have taken all his personal belongings away. Someone in a holding cell, especially someone deemed dangerous enough to still have handcuffs on, shouldn’t have a coin in his pocket. Or anything else in his pocket.
“I doubt the court will take Chuck E. Cheese tokens for your bail payment,” I told him.
“Well, this is all I’ve got. And I kind of need it to get home. Charon doesn’t take credit cards, you know.”
“Charon?”
“The ferryman?”
Ah yes. “The ferryman”. His limo-driver to hell. He was still sticking with the whole I’m a demon thing. Not that I was completely convinced he was human. I was reserving judgement on the whole thing. So far all he’d done was get drunk and beat up a bunch of werewolves. Not exactly demon behavior—or what I imagined demon behavior to be.
“So Charon, your Uber driver, takes Chuck E. Cheese tokens. Good to know. And he’s coming back to pick you up when?”
The man frowned, looking at the coin before shoving it back into his pocket. I wondered again how he’d managed to keep it. I’d have to have a word with the sheriff about this.
Or not. It wasn’t my business. I was a resident, not someone in charge of anything but my own damned life for a change.
“I don’t know how to call him. Usually I touch the coin and call and he appears, but when I did that last night, nothing happened. This town is…weird. It’s like there’s something blocking me here.”
A chill ran down my spine and I gave him a sharp look. My ancestor had set up the original wards around the town which my sisters and I reinforced every few months or so. It kept the peace, to a certain extent. And it did dull the abilities of our supernatural residents as well as block paranormal communications in and out of the town.
It also fucked up the cell signals. We were working on that.
Human? Or demon? Or something else? It shouldn’t matter. He was a client to represent, but someone I really needed to know.
“So you expect me to believe you’re really the son of the devil? That you came here for…what? To tie one on after a tough day torturing adulterers in the fifth circle?”
“Adulterers are in the second circle. The fifth is for those consumed with the sin of wrath, a personal favorite of mine.” He stretched his arms above his head and looked up at the ceiling. “You really should study up on this. As a lawyer, you’ll most likely wind up in hell. It’s good to arrive with a solid knowledge of the layout and tortures you’ll be enjoying.”
Right. “I’ll take that into consideration, but for now, let’s concentrate on your situation here, Mr. Lucien.”
“Just Lucien.”
“So Lucien, walk me through what happened last night. You arrive here from hell for an evening of relaxing fun. Alone. Why Accident? Were you driving through and just wanted to stop for the night? Is there a reason you picked our town and Pistol Pete’s?”
He shrugged. “Paris is so out this year? All the celebs are heading to Pistol Pete’s. I’m all about following the trends, you know.”
I looked at my watch. “Should I come back tomorrow? Would another day in this jail cell make you more inclined to seriously answer my questions and stop wasting my time. Time, I might add, that I’m not getting paid for?”
He smirked. “This is where Charon took me. The places I usually go just didn’t appeal to me. I was bored. I wanted to try something new, so I told Charon to pick, and this is where I ended up.”
Huh. That’s what happened when you let the Uber driver decide where you were going to party for the night. You wound up drunk and fighting it out with a werewolf and his friends, and then in jail.
“So the Uber guy, this Charon, dropped you at Pistol Pete’s?”
“Yes. A group of fairies propositioned me in the parking lot, but a satyr told them to beat it and took me inside to buy me a drink. He went off to screw a nymph, and I made my way over to the werewolves.”
