A God to Fear (Thorn Saga Book 5) (11 page)

He cried out when his left shoulder hit the ground. Even with the numbing medication, he felt the jolt to his broken arm. The prisoner took the opportunity to lunge at him, reaching for his cast, but Brandon’s leg kicked him. As the man recoiled, Brandon regained his feet.

The people were retreating quickly, but the air was growing thick with shimmering shapes.

“Gah! Get away frommmm us!”

Brandon’s hands swatted at the air again. His feet carried him toward a door in the side of the room, but three more bailiffs ran through it, toward him. “Gah!” His body twisted around, then his feet bounded toward a door at the very back of the room, behind the judge’s bench. “All you humans and demons can kiss my ethereal ass!” Brandon heard himself shouting. “You can go tell Marcus, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck yooooooouuuuuuu!”

He ran into the jury room, then beyond.

Marcus was floating down Edgewood Avenue with some of his followers, stewing internally over Wanderer’s condescension toward him, when a lone demon—Renthor, Marcus thought his name was—pitched down from the sky toward him.

“Marcus!” Renthor called, his voice panicked. “Marcus! Chaos at the court! The Judge has possessed someone and is terrorizing the humans there! We tried to stop him, but the court demons won’t let us. He’s their old leader, so they think it’s funny that he’s sunk so low! They want to watch his madness like it’s entertainment!”

Marcus darted forward toward the courthouse. His followers and Renthor kept pace.

“He’s there for Thorn,” Marcus said. “Send half our forces to Thorn’s cell. Send the other half to the first floor.”

“The first floor? Why?”

“Have them form a grid with their bodies. They need to create a barrier so that Thorn and the Judge can’t escape underground.”

“Very well, half to the first floor, the other half to guard Thorn.”

“No, you halfwit! Not to guard Thorn. To kill him!”

Wanderer’s plans be damned.

Thorn heard the distinctive sizzle of a taser outside his holding cell, followed by a human scream. A key jiggled in the door’s lock. Thorn’s captors were caked around him, three of them holding each limb and Wex holding his head, ready to twist it full around rather than lose his prisoner. The rest of the demon guards had flooded the space between Thorn and the physical cell door. Some of them grunted in anticipation, and others outright taunted their unseen adversary on the other side of the door. Bloodlust burned in their eyes. Like most devils, they rarely got the chance to kill, much less kill a fellow demon.

It was into this inimical environment that Brandon strode, his shoulders tilted back in such a lazily self-assured posture that Thorn knew the Judge was possessing him even before he poked his own bewildered face out in front of Brandon’s.

The Judge scanned the room and all its demon guards, who waited for Wex’s order to attack. “Why are they all still here?” the Judge said.

“Why is Brandon here?” Thorn replied, trying to ignore Wex’s grip on his head. What little of his morale remained now left him as he tried to piece together the Judge’s delusional plan. “You brought Brandon right to Marcus’s doorstep? Is that what all this commotion has been about?”

“I needed a distraction so I could bust you out!”

“You’re not supposed to cause the distraction right next to the thing you want to distract from!”

The Judge knotted his eyebrows and leaned his head sideways. A few of the guards mirrored his curious head movement. “Balls,” he said.

The Judge’s grasp on Brandon’s mind slowly relaxed, and the human eased down to his knees. His body spasmed as the Judge left him entirely. He started gasping for air, likely because his lungs had been receiving scant orders to breathe from a foreign mind for the last half hour.

“Well, at least we can hide you inside Brandon now,” the Judge said to Thorn. “No one will know!”

“Except for the hundred other demons in this room!” Thorn said. He couldn’t believe he’d ever wanted the Judge on his side.
What an idiot.
Were Thorn not weak and wounded from having been tortured, the Judge would have more to fear from him than from the guards.

Someone flew through the outward-facing wall at high speed. He stopped to orient himself, and Thorn saw that it was another demon.
Some kind of runner?

“Kill him!” the new demon shouted to Wex. “I’ve just come from Marcus. He orders you to kill Thorn!”

Thorn felt Wex’s hands clench, viselike, around his head…

But if Wex ripped his head off, Thorn didn’t feel it. He was too stunned by Amy, who suddenly peeked her head around the frame of the cell door. The mere sight of his most precious charge in this hostile place thrust him into an ocean of confusion. “Amy?”

“Thorn, hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

She shuffled farther into the room, her face pallid, her eyes sunken yet alert. She held her hands against the front of her hospital gown and the wounds beneath. Thorn rose and ran to her, so taken by Amy’s presence that he barely noticed he’d escaped his captors. Brandon continued coughing on the ground nearby.

“I’m Thilial, you nitwit,” Amy said, her voice straining to sound strong. “You’re in the physical world now. Run.”

Thilial arced up out of Amy’s body and down into the demon realm, brandishing Fear, her ancient sword. The demon guards, who had been desperately grabbing at the suddenly out-of-reach Thorn, now desperately retreated through the floor, walls, and ceiling. Thilial slew five of them before the room was empty, then turned her weapon on the Judge, who still hovered by the door. He curled up and shielded himself with his arms. When she didn’t strike him, he peered warily out from behind his fingers.

“Thank you?” he said.

Two demons zoomed through a wall. One struck Thilial in the gut. The other tried to grab her head, but she hewed him in half before he could touch her. Then she spun and speared the first demon.

Thorn shouted something at her, but a third demon attacked, and Thilial didn’t hear him. Before Thilial could kill the demon, a dozen more of them were in the room with her, seemingly undeterred by her sword.

“Hang on, sugar tits, I got you covered!” the Judge called as he leaped into the fray. Two demons immediately tackled him. Thilial tried to slice them off of the Judge without slicing
him
.

“Not me, you fool!” Thilial shouted at the Judge. “Thorn and the humans! Get them and get out of here!”

The Judge slammed a fist into a demon’s face, then nodded at Thilial. He flew down through the floor.

Dozens more demons flooded into the room. They bit at her, clawed at her. She struggled to keep her sword in her hands, much less fight with it. “I’m trying to help you!” she yelled at the horde. “I’m trying to stop a war!”

“The only war you’ll be stopping today,” said a voice from behind Thilial, “is your own.”

The demon mob surrounding Thilial faded into muted sepia tones. Their hands went straight through her body, and she realized she’d been pulled back up into the angelic realm. She turned to find Gleannor looking down at her.

The fire went out of Amy’s eyes and she swayed precipitously, so Thorn gently placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Amy? Are you okay?”

“I—wha—” She blinked. “Where am I? How’d I get here?”

Thorn cursed under his breath, then turned to the room behind him. Seconds ago the room had been filled with demons. Now it appeared empty, save for Brandon.

“You dare draw Amy into this mess?” Thorn shouted to Thilial, who was likely still in the room, albeit invisible to him. “You dare endanger my charge?”

He turned back to Amy. “How’s your injury? Is it bleeding?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“We’re in a courthouse a few blocks away from your hospital. Don’t worry. I’ll get you back there.”

Thorn heard a door fling open somewhere close. Several pairs of feet pounded down the hallway outside the cell.

“Thilial, Judge!” Thorn called. “If you can hear me, make sure the humans escape. They’re the imperative, not me!”
Hopefully Thilial will keep the Judge in line.

Thorn coaxed Amy back into the cell with him, past Brandon. Color was just starting to return to the boy’s face. He looked up at Thorn with an expression of utter bafflement.

“Who are you?” he said.

“ON THE GROUND!” Security officers, guns raised, streamed into the room. Brandon yowled as he was pressed to the floor face-first, lying on top of the broken arm that the sling hung in front of his body. One officer kneeled on his back and clutched his good arm to restrain him. Behind them, several bailiffs entered, until a total of eleven humans surrounded Brandon.

When they saw that he was calm and under control, their attention shifted to Thorn. “Who are you?” an officer said.

Thorn kept a protective arm around Amy, whose eyes were wide and scared. He sensed demons in the spirit world scratching at his mind, intimidating him, but he tried to ignore their efforts. After glancing down at his own physical body, at the fine-tailored suit that costumed it and the black satin tie knotted perfectly around his neck, Thorn raised his gaze back up to the officers. He prepared to do what he did best.

“I’m this boy’s attorney,” Thorn lied with feigned offense. “And I’m appalled that you would treat him in this fashion in a sanctioned court of law.”

The officers exchanged incredulous glances with each other. “What are you doing in here?” asked the officer with a knee on Brandon’s back.

Thorn imagined that the Judge must have caused quite a commotion on his way in—Thorn had heard part of it from this cell—so he said, “My client requires daily antipsychotic medication, which he has not been taking due to his severe anxiety disorder, which was exacerbated by the subpoena sent to him by this court. I talked personally with Judge Beasley on this matter, and I explained to her that my client’s mental stability could not be guaranteed at a court hearing. But she refused to rescind the subpoena. So when I arrived with my client, the officer downstairs saw his Outlaws jacket and unfairly singled him out for a body search, which triggered my client’s psychotic break. He ran up here to see this young woman, his little sister Amy, who is here on loan from Grady Memorial to testify in the same case. The guards outside overreacted, tried to stun him and shut him inside this cell, and my client was forced to defend himself. If you have any further questions, I suggest you take them up with Judge Beasley. Or would you like your names mentioned in our lawsuit as well?”

Thorn kept his gaze stern, hoping they’d buy the ruse. For all the Judge’s shortcomings, he’d have been far better than Thorn at speaking legalese.

But perhaps Thorn’s attempt was good enough. Upon hearing his explanation, some of the guards loosened their posture, and a few even holstered their guns. “We didn’t receive any word that an unstable witness was scheduled to testify today,” the first officer complained. “Both he and the girl are parties to a proceeding?”

“Yes,” Thorn said blindly.

“Which proceeding?”

Thorn probed his memory for any information about the courthouse’s ongoing trials. “The Cohn trial,” Thorn guessed. The man was always involved in one lawsuit or another.

The officer sighed. “I assume you’ll be requesting a continuance?”

“Indeed I will.”

“Well we’re still gonna have to talk to your client for a few minutes. Come with us.”

Trying not to wince at the thought of a police interrogation, Thorn turned to Amy. “Are you okay to walk?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

“Do you want me to leave you here? The police will take you back to the hospital.”

She eyed the grim-faced officers in their sweat-stained uniforms. “No, I’d rather stay with you, if that’s okay.”

“It is. Let’s take it slow, though.”

Thorn guided Amy over to Brandon, who cringed as an officer pulled him to his feet. Most of the officers dispersed, speaking reassurances to the loud voices on their radios as they departed. Two officers fell in beside Thorn as they followed the one escorting Brandon toward a back elevator.

And naturally, now that Thorn had the situation almost under control, Heather stepped out of that elevator.

“Brandon!” She ran to him, hugged him, taking care to avoid his left arm. “Why are these guards here?”

Brandon opened his mouth but said nothing, apparently lost for words.

Heather spotted Thorn. “You. What’s happening?”

“Ma’am, what is your involvement with this man?” the officer holding Brandon asked.

“I’m his wife. What’s going on?”

The officer threw a brief, leery glance at Thorn before responding to Heather. “Does your husband have a history of psychotic episodes?”

“No,” Heather said.

“They both do,” Thorn said simultaneously.

“They both do?” said the officer.

“Officer Prescott!” a voice called from down the hallway before the officers could respond to Thorn’s lie. Thorn turned to find Judge Beasley, who’d been one of the Judge’s favorite charges due to her obscenely strict “tough on crime” stance, hurrying toward them in her customary black robe. “Officer Prescott, I see you have the man under control now. What exactly just happened in there?”

Officer Prescott glanced skeptically at Thorn again, then back to Beasley. “This attorney talked with you about it before the trial, didn’t he?”

Beasley examined Thorn. “I’m sorry, I can’t recall. You are…?”

Prescott turned to Thorn as well. “Yeah. What’d you say your name was again?”

Thorn dithered. “My name is… uh…”

Thorn grabbed Prescott’s hands and squeezed them as hard as his human body could manage. He held on tight until the hands let go of Brandon. Then Thorn shoved Prescott into Beasley. They both yelped as they went down.

Another officer grabbed Thorn from behind. Heather stepped in and socked him across the face. The last officer drew his firearm, but Thorn snatched it from him before he could aim. The officer ran, and Thorn fired two warning shots into a window. Employees in nearby offices screamed and took cover behind their desks.