I pulled my phone and earbuds out of my pocket and placed them on the bedside table next to the half drunken glass of water. With a sigh, I fell back against the mattress. The crutches rested lightly against my sternum, pressing into my cheek. It still hurt to take deep breaths. The doctors assured me it would get better with time. I was just thankful I’d finally stopped coughing. Getting over a nicotine addiction and trying to heal from two punctured lungs had hurt like a mother effer. The memory of that searing pain across my chest would be enough to keep me from picking up a cigarette for a long time.
“You can say your goodbyes now, Charles. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
I sat up. “Shouldn’t you invite him to stay for dinner?”
“Some other time, perhaps,” Aunt Dinah said, already walking away. “You have a busy day tomorrow.”
Like she had to remind me. I had a dentist appointment in the morning, a hair appointment in the afternoon, and a court meeting in the evening. I’d have four brand new teeth and a fresh dye job to show off while I spilled my guts about the attack to an audience that just so happened to include the four people who’d put me in the hospital.
It was going to be so much fun.
Charlie came to lean a shoulder against my door jamb. “Not much of an upgrade.”
“Yeah, but at least it’s not in the hospital.” I set the crutches aside. “You’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow?”
He gave a one shouldered shrug. “I said I would.”
“Will Jasmine come with you?”
He stiffened. “No. Why?”
“I don’t know. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to meet her. Finally.”
“Not in public and definitely not at a courthouse.” He took off his cap with one hand and smoothed his hair down with the other. He’d gotten it cut recently. It didn’t curl out from under the cap anymore but laid flat against the back of his neck. He put his hat back on to answer my questioning look. “Too many reporters.”
Oh. Right. I kept forgetting his sister was something of a paparazzi magnet.
“But we’ll meet soon, right?” I pressed.
He smirked. “As soon as you’re out of your cast. We don’t have any stair lifts at the precinct.”
“Hardy har,” I said in a bad impersonation of his voice. “You tell anyone about that and I’ll let it slip that I beat you at Super Smash.”
My words wiped the smugness from his face. He scowled. “It was one fight.”
“Still counts.”
“Are you ready, Charles?” came my aunt’s voice from the bottom story.
He leaned back to say, “Yes, sorry.” Then he pushed away from the door jamb, dark eyes fixed on my face again. His entire demeanor changed, making me remember that moment we’d had outside by the Cadillac. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I rubbed the goose bumps from my arms before he could see them. “Sure. Tomorrow.”
◆◆◆
“State your name for the record,” the lawyer said. She was Asian; short, petite, beautiful, with long dark hair pulled back in a painful-looking ponytail. She wore a stylish white and black pantsuit with six-inch heels.
My gaze lingered on her shoes. She’d be regretting her choice in an hour. I blinked hard. That wasn’t important right now.
I leaned forward to be closer to the microphone. “Esmeralda Barnes.”
“Can you tell us how you got your injuries, Esmeralda?” the lawyer asked, pacing in front of me. She kept glancing at the crowd of people sitting on the other side of the waist-high wall. It didn’t seem like a nervous tic, more like an acknowledgement. She was there to impress the judge and jury but she wasn’t ignoring the onlookers.
I wished I could ignore them. I felt their gazes like dozens of mini spotlights aimed at my face. The flashes of several cameras made my eyes burn. I rubbed them with a fist and averted my gaze.
Randi, Karen, Winston and Allan sat with their lawyers at the table across from me. Any evidence of our fight had healed by now or was hidden behind concealer. Allan’s hand was wrapped in gauze. I saw it resting over the table. It made me want to laugh for some reason. I bit back the stupid impulse. Either I was having a panic attack or I was about to have a stroke.
I tugged on my collar. Aunt Dinah had insisted I wear a button-down shirt and some slacks. I felt like an overheating nun, but she was so sure it would help my case. Looking at my attackers, I realized their lawyers had had the same idea. They all wore clothes that were too nice for them, clothes I’d never seen them wear at school.
I forced myself to breathe. I wasn’t here to make a fool of myself or criticize everyone’s fashion sense. I was here to make sure those four paid for what they did to me. Finding Charlie’s face helped me refocus faster. He sat in the second row by his uncle, watching me intently. He was the only person who wasn’t dressed up, the only one not pretending to be someone else.
I tugged open the first two buttons of my shirt and rolled my sleeves up. After tousling my hair, I felt much better.
“Esmeralda?” the lawyer prompted.
“Yeah. Sorry. I got my injuries from those four,” I said, pointing. “They ganged up on me after school.”
August 12th, 1953
Our mission was unsuccessful. From Norway to Russia down into Asia, we searched monasteries and churches for hints of Death, but any description of her was either too Christian (meaning Death was not a separate entity, simply an act of God) or it was
