Poison Fruit (45 page)

Then Dufreyne lifted his head, meeting my gaze with his own too-black eyes and a bland smile.

I stared daggers back at him, wishing I had
dauda-dagr
on my belt, not safely stashed at home. I felt unprotected without it.

“Miss Johanssen.” He rose. “You’re a part-time file clerk for the Pemkowet Police Department—is that correct?”

“Yes.”

He arched one manscaped eyebrow. “But you have another title and a greater role in the community, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Not on paper.”

The other brow rose to join its fellow. “Please state your unofficial title for the court.”

“Hel’s liaison,” I said.

Dufreyne consulted his notes. “To clarify, that would refer to Hel, Norse goddess of the dead, yes?”

Members of the jury perked up. Yep, they were curious now. “Yes.”

“And Hel presides over the underworld known as . . . Little Niflheim?”

“Yes.”

He checked his notes again. “And what do you do in your capacity as Hel’s liaison?”

“I’m, um, a diplomatic liaison between Little Niflheim and the Pemkowet Police Department,” I said. “I work to ensure that the eldritch and mundane communities coexist in peace.”

Dufreyne gave me a significant look. “And do they?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“What happens when they don’t?” he inquired.

“I do my best to deal with it,” I said. “That’s my job.”

Daniel Dufreyne turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to revisit the video footage previously introduced into evidence.” The monitor displayed footage of Cody’s and my ghostbusting forays from last autumn. “Miss Johanssen, can you describe in your own words what we’re seeing here?”

“Officer Fairfax and I are in the process of laying a ghost to rest,” I said.

“Can you explain this process for the court?” he asked. “Exactly how does one lay a ghost to rest?”

I wondered where Dufreyne was going with this and how long it would take for Lee’s untraceable call to go through. “You cast a ghost’s shadow using a spirit lantern, then drive a nail into it.” I pointed at the screen, where Cody was executing a knee slide on the parquet dance floor of the S.S.
Osikayas
, hammer in hand. “Like that.”

“And where does one obtain a spirit lantern?” Dufreyne inquired.

“Hel provided it.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So Hel herself, the Norse goddess of the dead, was concerned about this ghost uprising and took measures to quell it?”

“Yes,” I said. “As did the Pemkowet Police Department.”

Dufreyne glanced at Judge Martingale, who gave his gavel an officious little tap. “The witness will confine her responses to the question.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Dufreyne turned back to me. “Miss Johanssen, can you explain the cause of the ghost uprising to the court?” I gave a brief account of Sinclair’s mother setting her father’s spirit loose on the town and stirring up the restless dead. “I see. And this . . . duppy . . . resulted in the monstrosity that terrorized East Pemkowet at the Halloween parade?” Dufreyne asked, clicking the remote to show footage of the Tall Man’s axe-wielding skeleton rampaging down Main Street, spectators shrieking, shoving, and attempting to flee.

“Yes.” I wished Lee’s call would come through. I was beginning to
sweat and I could smell a faint odor of acrid herbs and warm leather rising from my cleavage.

Dufreyne consulted his notes again. “Miss Johanssen, isn’t it true that on October twenty-ninth, you and Officer Fairfax met with Police Chief Bryant and Amanda Brooks of the Pemkowet Visitors Bureau and asked them to cancel the Halloween parade?”

Oh, crap. So
that’s
where he was going with this. I wondered how he’d found out about it. “Yes,” I murmured.

His gaze bored into mine. “What were your reasons for the request?”

I wiped my sweating palms on my pants. “We were concerned.”

“Can you be more specific?” he asked. “What, exactly, were your concerns?”

“Well, Officer Fairfax and I were concerned because we hadn’t managed to catch the duppy,” I hedged.

“You were concerned for the public safety?” Dufreyne pressed me. “Is that fair to say?”

I gestured at the screen, where the image of the Tall Man was frozen in midrampage. “Look, we didn’t expect
that
!”

Judge Martingale gave his gavel another tap. “The witness will answer the question.”

Dufreyne raised his eyebrows at me.

“Yes,” I said reluctantly. “We were concerned for the public safety.”

“So.” Daniel Dufreyne smiled his bland smile, but his voice took on that weird note of reverberation as he exercised his powers of persuasion for the first time since I’d entered the courtroom. “In your authority as Hel’s liaison, you asked the chief of police and the director of the visitors bureau to cancel this event in the interest of public safety, and they refused?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“So you’re saying that knowing that this . . . duppy . . . was still at large,” he continued at full reverb with an added blast of thunderous indignation thrown in for good measure, “and with the complete support of the Pemkowet, East Pemkowet, and Pemkowet Township boards and city councils, Chief Bryant and Amanda Brooks refused to
consider a direct request from Hel herself and continued to promote this parade as a fun, safe activity, encouraging visitors to attend?”

In the jury box, heads were nodding. So was the judge’s.

“I didn’t say that!” I protested. “Asking to cancel the parade was Cody’s and my call, not Hel’s. And none of the members of tri-community government even
heard
about our request! You can’t just lie about it!”

That earned me another gavel tap, this one a bit sterner.

“Withdrawn,” Dufreyne said smoothly, his voice back to normal. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Double crap.

Of course, it was at that moment that the alarm sounded, and not a minute before, when it would have done the most good. A security officer entered the courtroom and spoke to the bailiff, who announced in a reassuring voice that everyone should gather their personal belongings and proceed to evacuate the building in an orderly fashion, using the staircases instead of the elevators.

“Light pass through me,” I whispered under my breath, uttering the words like a desperate prayer as I willed my aura to disperse to the four corners of the courtroom. “Gaze pass over me.”

The evacuation was quicker and more orderly than I’d expected. Judge Martingale exited through the door behind him into his chamber; everyone else filed toward the main exit. I held my breath and slouched low in my seat on the witness stand as Daniel Dufreyne cast a curious glance around the room, but his gaze didn’t linger on me, and he didn’t seem overly suspicious.

I didn’t want to take any chances, though. I waited until everyone’s back was turned before sliding out of my seat and squeezing through the narrow aperture between the box that housed the judge’s bench and the wall, fishing in my pockets for the wrapped charm and the square of mounting tape. With shaking hands, I peeled the backing off the double-sided tape, stuck the charm to the tape, and affixed it to the underside of Judge Martingale’s oversize leather desk chair.

Done.

I scrambled out from behind the judge’s bench and squeezed myself
back through the gap so fast that I overbalanced and nearly took a header. The pouch of wolfsbane fell out of my bra in the process, causing me to lose my focus.

“Ma’am?” The security officer at the door beckoned politely. Forget invisibility; even unobtrusibility is impossible when you’re the only person left in the room and you’ve dropped your wolfsbane. “Everyone out, please.”

“Sorry, just dropped my coin purse.” Stooping, I grabbed the pouch and shoved it in my pocket, hoping like hell that the security officer hadn’t noticed me until it fell out of my bra.

Apparently, she hadn’t.

“This way,” she said. “Down the hall and to your left.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I followed her instructions.

Forty-four

O
utside, we gathered in a parking lot across the street. Having left my coat in the witness waiting room, I wrapped my arms around myself in the cold, dank February air, shivering in nothing but trousers and a thin silk blouse.

Cody found me with my nice new red wool coat over one arm and fire in his eyes. “Here!” he hissed, shoving my coat at me. “Put it on. You’re freezing.” I didn’t argue. He waited until I’d buttoned the coat to grab me by the shoulders and shake me hard. “Are you out of your mind?” Even through the thick wool, Cody’s fingers dug into my flesh. “Tell me I did
not
just send a text message to trigger a bomb scare,” he said in a tone low enough that only I could hear him.

I winced. “Well . . .”

“Daisy!”

“I’m sorry!” I hissed back at him. “I needed a distraction. Anyway, what makes you think it was a bomb scare?”

“I’m a cop,” he said grimly. “Security guards tell cops things they don’t tell civilians, because we’re useful people to have on the scene.” He let go of me. “Did you at least accomplish . . . whatever you were trying to accomplish?”

“Yes.”

“Will it help?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” I said. “Because it’s not going well in there. Cody, Dufreyne knows that you and I tried to have the parade canceled. He’s claiming that the request came directly from Hel and that the board and council members backed the chief’s refusal. That’s how he’s putting blame on the local governments.”

“What?” Cody frowned. “None of them had any idea.”

“That’s what I said,” I said. “And he withdrew the question, but the damage was already done.”

“Well, I’ll just have to push back against it as hard as I can,” he said.

“Push back against what, son?” Chief Bryant inquired, approaching us with Stacey and Amanda trailing behind him. I explained. The chief shook his head. “That’s one decision I’d like to take back,” he said. “But you’re right—the blame for it rests squarely on our shoulders. I’ll do my damnedest to make it clear.” He glanced at Amanda Brooks. “And I hope you’ll do the same.”

She looked around nervously. “I don’t want to be accused of witness collaboration.”

The chief sighed. “Just tell the truth, Amanda. No one’s suggesting you perjure yourself. Word is we’re dismissed for the day,” he added. “Report back tomorrow at the same time unless you get a call instructing you otherwise.”

“Did they tell you why we were evacuated?” Amanda asked with a shiver.

“Bomb threat,” Chief Bryant said soberly, rubbing the pouchy skin beneath his left eye. “Apparently, the call originated in Abu Dhabi, and they’re taking it seriously. So go home and kiss your loved ones.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “See you here tomorrow.”

Abu Dhabi? Holy crap. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed with Lee’s hacker connections or vaguely terrified. Both, maybe.

I drove home and spent the remainder of the day half expecting a knock on my door from Homeland Security. Cody was right. I was out of my mind to take part in such a dangerous, illegal scheme. And I shouldn’t have dragged him into it. I’d betrayed his trust.

I just hoped it worked.

The next morning it was business as usual at the courthouse, the bomb squad having combed the ventilation system and found nothing. At least I didn’t have to wait before being called back to the witness stand, since proceedings picked up where they’d left off the previous day.

Pemkowet’s legal defense team was headed up by Cheryl Munz,
Lurine’s celebrity lawyer having determined she was the shrewdest of the local lot. “I just have a few questions for you, Miss Johanssen.” She pulled a photograph from a file and showed it to me. “Do you recognize the people in this photograph?”

It was a family portrait of Cooper’s victims. “Yes. That’s Doug and Lois Blumenthal, and their daughter Emily. I didn’t know their names until the trial, though,” I added.

“That’s all right.” Cheryl Munz gave me a smile that was meant to be encouraging, but came off as exhausted. This trial had to have been a nightmare for her. “When did you first encounter the Blumenthals?”

“At the Halloween parade,” I said.

“Where they were victims of a ravenous ghoul,” she said. “Is that correct?”

“Ravening,” I said, wondering exactly how this line of questioning was supposed to help the defense’s case. “And they prefer the term
Outcast
. But yes.”

“And why were there ghouls—excuse me, Outcast—present at the parade?” Cheryl inquired.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Daniel Dufreyne said without looking up from his notes. “I fail to see the relevance.”

“Overruled,” Judge Martingale said.

Dufreyne’s head snapped up and he put on the reverb, his voice deepening. “I said I
object
, Your Honor.”

Light flashed off the judge’s glasses as he gave the prosecuting hell-spawn attorney a stern look. “And I said
overruled
, Mr. Dufreyne.” He gestured at me. “The witness may answer the question.”

I suppressed a gleeful smile. It looked like the charm was working. “The Outcast were there to provide crowd control.”

“Crowd control?” Cheryl echoed.

I nodded. “To prevent widespread panic in the event of a supernatural manifestation, yes.”

“And did they achieve that goal?” she asked me.

“Yes.”

“Objection!” Dufreyne said curtly. “The witness is being asked to speculate on an outcome that can’t possibly be known.”

The judge hesitated, then nodded. “Sustained.”

“Withdrawn,” Cheryl said. “Miss Johanssen, please clarify something for the court. Who authorized the presence of the, um, Outcast at the parade?”

Okay, I saw where this was going now. Cheryl Munz was attempting to throw
me
under the bus. Under the circumstances, that was just fine with me. I might have cause to regret it later, but right now, I’d gladly take a dive under those wheels. “I did.”

“And did you consult with anyone regarding this decision?” she asked. “The chief of police, the director of the visitors bureau?”