They didn’t want me here, but tough shit. I’m an adult.
And I’m not here for them, anyway—I’m here for Max.
The room is packed, with good reason. I linger near the back, concealed by the distraction of the trial.
Today, a new defendant sits behind the table. Her eyes are sharp, and her brow furrowed, but the slightest tremble works through her lips. She hunches forward, her muscles taut.
The prosecution worked up to her last. The media’s been picking away at the tidbits they’ve been given so far—but she’s the main course.
Even though I elected to stand in the back, the rest of the crowd around me had no choice. If people could be hovering outside pressed up against the windows, then they would be.
The judge bangs his gavel, and a scalded hush falls over the courtroom.
I don’t pay attention to the opening of the session; I just seek out Max. He’s sitting in one of the front rows, huddled between the other members of his parents’ firm. I have no doubt they’ve been telling him it’s an incredible honor to be here—to witness their work up close.
I wish I could know how he really feels.
My brother steps out from behind the prosecutors’ table. He and his wife have been taking turns.
He paces before the judge’s bench, his voice rolling over the courtroom as he begins to outline the crimes the defendant has committed.
It’s not really up for debate what she’s done. She and her compatriots made as much of a spectacle of their actions as they could. The argument is more about the nuances of her final sentencing.
Gianne’s expression hardens as my brother details every scheme the woman participated in. The pride in her smirk gleams alongside the anger ticking in her jaw.
Sean works up to a dramatic crescendo, tying his monologue together with one final damning statement:
“You are fully prepared to martyr yourself for the cause of Ezerah, even after the man is dead, and you can benefit from his cruelty and tyranny no more. Even after his reign of terror has fallen, taking you down with it.”
Gianne glares, hoping to intimidate my brother. But Sean’s done this dozens of times before. The ire of his opponents slides off him like rain on glass. In fact, to him, people like her are not even really quite people.
The doors at the back of the courtroom explode. The noise shatters the moment like a vase slipped through a careless set of fingers. The hubbub that started to build dashes to a dead quiet.
Like the rest of the now captive audience, I can only gape as the newcomer strides into the room, his polished shoes hitting the floor in sharp clacks. He spreads his arms wide as his lips slide into a smirk.
“You can’t accuse this woman of martyring herself for a dead man!”
The intruder halts at the front of the room, his coat swishing to a stop around his legs. He plants his hands on his hips before turning to survey the rows of silent, blood-leached faces.
His small smile blossoms into an eager grin.
“Because, as you can see, I am clearly not dead.” He chuckles. “Not that it much matters what you say, or what you wish to do to my accomplices. Because, you see, we’re going to be leaving now.”
I can tell what’s about to happen when a strange sensation reverberates at the edges of my hearing. It’s not quite a sound, though; more like a feeling that tickles at my skin and rattles in my bones. First sight will begin to ripple, then the senses will dull, and everyone’s emotions will wither as they become trapped in a momentary suspension of time.
Only others like Ezerah will be able to fight back. In a blink, they’ll pass through a swath of molasses-like movement to emerge into a watery dream.
Panicked faces contort in slow motion around me. People hover, bizarrely buoyant, as they begin to lift out of their seats.
Gianne starts to lift her arms out. Her power-dampening cuffs prohibit her from escaping the warp. Ezerah leaps over to the stand to break them, and the woman jumps out of her seat. A grin breaks across her face, as sharp and sadistic as her boss’s.
I hold still, knowing I’ll only earn an untimely death if they discover I’m one of them.
But then the rustle of fabric on wood crinkles too sharp to ignore.
I snap my eyes to the source as Ezerah and Gianne whirl on it.
My heart squeezes, burrows up into my throat, and disintegrates in the same fraction of a second.
Max jumps up, horror and anger clashing on his face.
I knew he was one of us—but it never occurred to me he might not have lived through a time warp before. That he doesn’t know to hold himself still.
That he doesn’t know he’s just condemned himself.
And not even to death—he’s young, there’s yet the possibility of corruption. I can see it in Ezerah’s eyes as the man takes in what he just witnessed; as I leap out of my nonchalant slouch against the wall—
My focus narrows into a single thought—get to Max.
I jump from bench to bench, sidestepping the frozen spectators.
At the row behind the prosecutors’ table, I reach down to grab my nephew, pulling him into my arms.
He thrusts his arms around my neck. I can see the questions in his eyes, but now is not the time.
Hell, all these years he’s thought his father hates me because I’m living an “alternate lifestyle”—little do any of them know they have an actual reason to despise me.
Further footsteps pound in from the door. I don’t waste the time spinning around to see that my only course of escape is blocked.
Instead, I angle towards the windows.
A quick manipulation of pressure turns my finger into a drill that blasts through the nearest pane of glass. Still affected by the time warp, the material crackles into millions of rainbow fractures, spinning slowly enough for me to fully admire their destructive beauty.
I twist midair to place myself between Max and the ground.
Shouts ring out as we plummet. The glass pelts down into a deadly hail as it breaks free of the warp.
I snag a touch of gravity to lower us onto the grass.
“What’s going on?!” I finally hear my nephew cry, shrill and cracked. I don’t need to look at the boy’s face to know there are tears pouring down it.
I pause to hug him, burying my lips amid his hair.
It’s gonna be okay, I think, but I don’t dare say it aloud.
“I’m gonna keep you safe,” I whisper instead. “I know this is a lot; but trust me—I will keep you safe.”
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