Now You See Me

Fifty-Seven: The Trial

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

I turned. Chris was behind me, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking genuinely concerned. I couldn't find it in me to get annoyed, even though this had to have been the hundredth time he'd asked me this same question just today. Besides, getting angry just made my head hurt more than it already did.

Two vampires passed me on their way into the courtroom, giving me curious stares as they went. One blatantly sniffed the air as she walked through my space, and then leaned in and whispered something unflattering about fish to her male companion. He chuckled softly, and they disappeared. I swallowed. I couldn't see inside the courtroom because it was too dark, and the hum of voices I might have expected was replaced by the hushed, sibilant whispers of about fifty vampires. Judging by the couple's reaction to my presence, there wouldn't be many creatures other than vampires in there, and somehow, that made it even worse.

Despite what I had said to Chris, I wasn't up to this. The statement I'd written – with his help – during the preceding week sat like deadweight in my pocket.

"I have to," I replied, going back to him. I had worked up the courage to take a few steps towards the doors, but it fled me in the space of a few seconds.

"That wasn't my question, D," he murmured, exasperated, but I could tell he knew it, too. There was no way I was getting out of this now that I was here.

I looked up at his face. A thin scar ran across his nose, and three more tracked down his left cheek. He hadn't had those before; now that I was remembering things much more clearly, his injuries seemed that much more obvious and numerous. I noticed more scars every time I looked at him, but he only got pissed when I pointed them out, so I'd given up on that pretty soon after starting. There was still a chasm between us as a result of what had happened – more apparent now that we were out of immediate danger – and I wasn't sure it would ever be quite the way it used to be. For a start, Chris had very little patience for being sociable anymore; he'd tolerate Mum and I around the flat for a while, and then lock himself in the spare bedroom for hours on end, only coming out to bathe. He'd only grown more irritable as his tolerance for dry air dissipated with every passing day. This trial was a stretch for both of us, and there was a bathtub ready in a room behind the witness stand if one of us needed it. The underside of our bench was stacked with several six packs of bottled water, and we were both to sit beside washtubs filled with brine and equipped with a flannel.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so embarrassing at the same time.

"Come on, it's starting," I said after a moment. My head throbbed in protest as I moved towards the doors, Chris behind me. The collar of my shirt chafed against my neck as I walked, and the stiff leather of the shoes I'd had to buy just for the occasion felt strange and clumpy after spending the whole week laid up with sickness and barely moving.

Sweat broke out on my forehead as I stepped inside the cavernous courtroom. It was gloomy, tiled in dark oak, and the seats were upholstered with black leather. Pale faces seemed to jump out of the darkness at me, and I couldn't help but think that vampires made absolutely zero effort to discourage stereotypes. In fact, there was no stereotype – there was just vampire or not-vampire.

I took my seat. Marilyn hadn't been brought in yet.

"When did you need more painkillers?" Chris asked as he sat down. "I can't be popping blister packs during the proceedings; I'll be hung out to dry."

"Three," I replied. He looked at his watch and frowned a little.

"It shouldn't take more than two hours, should it?"