Authors: JD Nixon
Not quite brave enough to tell Heller to
his face that I was taking him up on his promise to visit my
parents for a meal tonight, I waited until I was at the courthouse
to text him the good news. His voicemail response was a simple,
unhappy:
Matilda
. I
thought,
too
bad
. He’d said he would
accompany me and I took that to mean he was being
sincere.
That terrifying task completed, I decided
I couldn’t ignore Trent’s texts and voicemails forever,
though
it was an
extremely tempting proposition to do so. With a few minutes to
spare until we were allowed into the courtroom for the day, I
plucked up my courage and rang him.
I didn’t
bother beating around the bush. “Do I still have a
job?”
“
All I can say is you’re lucky you’re so
cute,” he advised me sternly, but I could hear the reluctant smile
behind his words.
“
I watched it this morning. You have to
admit it made good TV.”
“You have to admit you’re a huge pain in the
arse.”
“
Speaking of being a pain in the arse, I
won’t be coming to the studio tonight after court finishes. I have
a family dinner to attend.”
“
There
is
a
reason I pay you, you know. So it would be nice if you turned up
occasionally.”
“
Hey! I’m working right now doing
what
you
asked me
to.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s gruesome. The prosecution team is still
outlining the forensics, there was so much of it.”
“
Send me
some notes about the hearing at the end of the day
before you go off to dinner. Scottie’s lined up an interview with
some academic with a PhD in occultism for tonight’s show. I want to
lead into it with a brief summary of the case so far.”
“Yes, sir. Will do.”
“
Oh, if
only
you were that respectful.”
I smiled. “I have to go. Bye Trent, and
thanks for being such a great guy.”
“Yeah, yeah, go do some work for me.”
Once again, the courtroom was jam-packed
with observers and media. Just as the magistrate warned, the
continuing prosecution case consumed the entire morning session of
the hearing. The attitude of the two defendants hadn’t improved by
their return to prison overnight.
During the lunch recess, I grabbed a quick
sandwich from a nearby eatery and sat in the park, typing up my
notes on my tablet. Back in the courtroom for the afternoon
session, the crowd settled itself waiting for the magistrate to
return to recommence proceedings.
The two women sat
apathetically
, as if
bored by the whole situation. I wasn’t sure what happened to them
during the hearing breaks, but suspected the court complex must
have holding cells to contain those people in custody at the time
of their hearings, somewhere where they were locked down for breaks
and given their meals.
And just as the court clerk
demand
ed we all rise for
the arrival of the magistrate, the door to the public gallery
opened and someone stepped into the courtroom, giving the
unfortunate impression we all rose for him, not for Her
Honour.
It was Malefic in person.
Chapter 18
Flanked by the same two black-haired,
black-garbed acolytes, or
other women who resembled them as closely as twins, Malefic
was a dramatic sight, not able to be ignored. A hushed gasp from
those unfamiliar with him and his appearance rippled around the
court. Had I not previously researched him thoroughly, I probably
would have gasped too.
Taller in person than he seemed online,
he
verged on great
beauty, with lush eyelashes and refined, sensitive features. It
would be natural to assume a person such as him would lead an
unwholesome life, but he glowed with good health, his long, black
hair shining and soft, his pale skin unlined and clear. It was
difficult to determine his age, but he was probably in his late
twenties. In a different world, he would have made an ideal rock
star, the idol of every female teenager. But in the real world, I
doubted there would be any parents willing to let their teenager
daughters anywhere near him.
As usual, he d
ressed in unrelenting black – a long-sleeved shirt
with every last fastener buttoned, black jeans, a theatrical cloak
that swept the floor as he moved, and knee-high, chunky boots. On a
chain around his neck he wore an intricate, large silver pendant,
which after much research, I later learned was an upside-down
pentagram. He carried an ugly book clutched to his chest, its brown
cover old and wrinkled. From where I sat, I couldn’t decipher the
spidery gold lettering on its spine.
“
I am here for you, my sweet
demons,”
Malefic spoke
aloud.
The two defendants, who hadn’t even
bothered turning around at the entry of yet another gawker, spun in
the dock at his beautiful voice. From the expression of elation
crossing their face, his presence elicited emotion that no detail
of their awful crime presented to the court had yet managed to
do.
“
People in the public gallery will remain
quiet at all times,”
censured the magistrate. “Or you’ll quickly find yourselves
ejected by the bailiff.”
With insulting deliberation,
Malefic dipped his head in her
direction, half-smiling in an unmistakably sardonic way. “My
deepest apologies. No disrespect meant to you, Magistrate
McKierney.”
I didn’t miss the small frown of
worry
puckering the
magistrate’s forehead at that personal apology. He’d done his
homework. She probably wondered what else he knew about her and
what that would mean for the safety of her family and her,
considering the case she was currently hearing and what his
followers were prepared to do to obtain his approval.
“
I love you,
my Dark Lord. We did this all for you,” said
Alice, tears of joy streaming down her face. Malefic gestured
magnanimously with his hand at her in recognition of her
devotion.
“
I remind your client to remain silent
unless requested to speak,” the magistrate snapped at Alice’s
lawyer.
“
Yes, Your Honour.” He jumped up to
reprimand Alice in a sharp whisper for a few moments.
Malefic arranged himself on a
strangely vacant seat in the
public gallery with great ceremony, his acolytes sitting at his
feet, each with an arm around one of his calves. Every member of
the public seated next to them shifted over, not wanting to be near
the strange trio, probably desperately wishing they’d chosen a
different hearing to watch today, but not wanting to attract his
attention by leaving. Safely tucked away in the media area, removed
from them, I openly stared in fascination. I couldn’t wait to tell
Daniel and Niq (or Trent) all about
this
.
“
My Dark Lord, this is such an honour for
us,” sobbed Charlotte. “We’re so unworthy.”
“
This is my last warning to the court,”
seethed the magistrate. “If there are any more disturbances then I
will close this hearing to the public and everyone will
leave.”
And if people could actually die from
dirty looks being directed at them, Alice and Charlotte would have
murdered that magistrate on the spot in just the way they
cold-heartedly murdered their own families. Magistrate McKierney,
more used to dealing with drunk drivers and shoplifters than
unrestrained murderers, looked visibly shaken, but stoically
carried on her duties.
Malefic remained quiet for the rest of the
afternoon session, though watching proceedings with an intensity I
could feel from where I sat.
Alice and Charlotte kept twisting to gaze up at him
adoringly, forcing their lawyers to reprimand them in angry
whispers and remind them to face the front.
The prosecution finished its case,
allowing the defence a brief time to begin cross-examining the
expert witnesses before the magistrate adjourned the court for the
day. Malefic made just as grand a departure as his
entrance
, the crowd in
the gallery with him parting to allow him through. Alice and
Charlotte yelled out to him how much they loved him and wanted to
be his official acolytes, before being taken back to the prison by
the corrective services officers for the night.
Wanting to get my notes to Trent
before I went home and faced
Heller about the family dinner, I sat on a bench outside the
courthouse, tapping furiously away on my tablet’s keyboard. A
shadow fell over my screen, which was useful in one way as the sun
was still quite strong, but quite menacing in another. Especially
when I looked up and saw Malefic standing before me.
He waited for me to respond to him.
Perhaps he expected me to genuflect or to gasp, but as I’d been
observing him all day, I think I kept my short, sharp intake of
breath in surprise to myself.
“
Can I help you?” I asked him, a little
nervous.
“
You’ve been watching me today. You’re
interested,” he stated, staring at me intently. His acolytes stood
silently behind him, reaching out now and then to stroke him with
languid fingers. I wondered if they were on drugs.
“
Yes, but not for the reasons you’re
thinking,” I managed to say, finding those inky eyes repellent, yet
strangely hypnotic.
“
There are many reasons for interest in
Malefic.” He crooked his fingers towards himself in a ‘tell me’
gesture. I instantly disliked his arrogance – and his reference to
himself in third person. What a tosser.
I briefly debated myself whether I should
pursue the crazy idea that suddenly popped into my mind.
What the
hell?
I thought.
What was Trent going
to do? Fire me?
Yep, probably.
“
Are you interested in being interviewed by
Trent Dawson for
People’s Pulse
?”
I enquired bluntly.
Malefic half-smiled and inclined his head,
presumably to show he was thinking about
my offer. Double tosser. “Only if I can be on at
the same time as the most holy Reverend Joshua who appeared last
night.”
Well, blow me! Malefic was a Trent Dawson
fan, otherwise how would he have known that? It would be a scoop
over the other networks to do an interview with him, but the likely
consequences of such a pairing of guests didn’t escape
me.
“
I’m not sure Reverend Joshua would agree
to appear on the show again.” Especially with Malefic.
“Make it happen.”
He walked away from me and one of his
acolytes dropped something in my hand. It was a business card, of
all things. The little black card showed Malefic’s phone number,
email address and website, all written in the same gold lettering
as the book he carried. I guess everyone needed to keep in touch
these days.
I rang Trent.
He wasn’t happy. “No! No! No! I definitely
want this Mallory guy or whatever his name is, but I’m not having
that other jerk back on my show again. Ever.”
“
Trent,” I bargained, wanting to prove
myself to him after my last guest schedule. “You know what he’s
like now, so you’re more prepared this time. And just think of the
conflict! If you thought he was anti-Cybelian, can you imagine how
he’d be with Malefic?”
“
I
am
imagining the conflict and I’m imagining my head being
drenched with water again.”
“It was good TV,” I cajoled.
“It was wet and cold,” he rejoined. “And it
ruined my hair.”
“
Trent! Are you a pretty boy or a
journalist?”
“
Why can’t I be both?”
“This is the scoop of the century. How often
do you get to interview a practitioner of dark magic?”
“
I did last night, according to that
reverend.”
I blew a raspberry down the line.
“Cybelians aren’t dangerous,
but this guy is. Those two girls admitted they murdered for him.
Out loud in court at their own hearing. That virtually guarantees
the magistrate will send them to trial at the Supreme Court, no
matter how they plead. Can’t you see the power he wields?
You
have
to
interview Malefic.”
He sighed unhappily. “I don’t want that
reverend on my show again.”
“
Have security on hand this time to remove
him before he
gets the
chance to dump any water.” I couldn’t believe I even suggested he
include those meatheads in anything in which I also would be
involved.
“
Are you sure he won’t do an interview
without that reverend on as well?”
“
Yes, I’m positive.”
“
It can’t be for tonight’s show.
We’ve finalised the line-up
already and I have that occultist professor to
interview.”
“
I doubt I could round them both up in time
for tonight anyway. I’m going to my parents’ house for dinner,
remember.”
“This better not be the worst idea you’ve
ever had.”