Aurora wasn't sure how long she'd been inside.
Then, she chuckled to herself. 'Inside,' she thought. Yeah, right. Hell, I'm not even convicted yet.
Then, with a sigh, Then, again, that won't take long, will it?
The time she'd spent in her small grey cell had been disorienting, at best. There were no windows, and she wasn't supposed to talk or make eye contact while the cops brought her meals or took them away. Nobody else in the cell, either. So, not many options to mark the time. The tally marks old cartoons showed on prison walls stopped being funny when you were there. Counting breakfasts or whatever, because there was nothing else to count.
So, a week? Two? She wasn't sure.
When she'd been led to her cell, she'd gotten the impression that most of the cells had windows. Was her being in one without any an accident, or by design? Then again, was the lack of a cell mate intended as a kindness, because she was a kid? Or was it punishment?
She snorted.
Probably punishment, she thought. Remember who you're dealing with, here.
She wondered for the thousandth time who they thought she'd shot. Aurora hadn't recognized the name. The picture they'd shown her was young, maybe a little older than her. But that was all she knew.
Aurora snorted again. Judging by the cops' hostility, the girl was probably rich or something, whoever she was. Someone from a 'good family,' straight A's, heading straight to the Ivy League. A would-be pillar of the community, almost cut down before her time.
Then again, maybe not, she thought for the thousandth time. Maybe she was just somebody they liked. Some cop's friend, or something.
Aurora sighed. When she'd first been locked up, she'd meditated. She'd done yoga. Hell, she'd meditated her heart out, she'd yoga'd like a freakin' champ. But after a while, she was just meditated and yoga'd out. And the quiet had started to get to her.
She wouldn't have believed that it was possible to be this bored, and yet this terrified, all at once. Yet, here she was.
Releasing her breath, she sat back on her bed, fell back and stared at the ceiling. There were people who had done solitary – real solitary – for months. She thought of Jerry Reuben, Abby Someone, and the other Yippie protesters who had been jailed for their defiance back in the 60's. By contrast, she'd been in jail maybe a few days.
“Well, come on, feet,” she muttered, placing her fight foot on her left hip. “Let's get some perspective.”
She pushed herself into a sitting position, then brought her left foot over, completing the lotus. Hands on her knees, she brought her nervous breathing down, felt her heart slowing. Her thoughts, formerly whirling in her head like a storm, gradually calmed, passing her by like clouds on a windy sky. She'd get through this, she told herself. One way or another, she'd get through this.
Of course, the thoughts passing her by were still the same thoughts. And after a few moments her breathing became rapid again, her heart pounding like an animal trying to break free. Shortly thereafter she was sitting on the edge of her bunk, feet on the floor, head in her hands, desperately trying to keep from hyperventilating. And, slowly, slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and the pain in her chest faded away.
She didn't know how long she'd been like that, when she heard the door unlock.
She didn't move. There didn't seem to be much point, really.
She heard the jingling of keys. The rustling sound of someone moving, someone wearing the same disposable paper weave suit she was wearing. She heard the door close, then lock. After a moment's hesitation, the guard's footsteps were echoing slightly as they walked down the hallway.
Silence.
Then, there was a sigh. Beneath her hands, Aurora felt her eyes snap open, her breath catching in her throat.
This time, they'd left someone in the cell with her.
In the sudden silence following the heavy door’s closing, Sunrise made her way to the other bunk. She’d thought that jails always had double bunks, but this one had two beds attached to the far walls, to either side of the cell’s single door. Still, that was fine. It gave a welcome distance between herself and the girl whose life she’d inadvertently poisoned.
Just like she poisoned everything, apparently.
She sat down on the unoccupied bed, a solitary, intrusive sound in the cell’s oppressive quiet.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Finally, Sunrise broke the silence, still facing the steel door, hugging her knees where she sat.
“You’re gonna be okay.”
Aurora raised her head, looked at her new cellmate for the first time. She took in the young woman’s skin and flame-colored mohawk with a deepening frown.
“What…” her voice was dry from disuse. She swallowed, cleared her throat, then tried again. “Hhh-hmm! What are you talking about?”
“I’m the one they were looking for, when they found you. With me here, they’ll have to let you go.”
Aurora stared. “You’re…?”
Sunrise screwed her eyes closed, still not facing her cell mate. “Yeah.”
There was a moment or two as Aurora tried to process this. It almost made too much sense. Finally, out of sheer confusion, she asked, “Why?”
Sunrise swallowed. “It’s… I’m…” She took a shuddering breath, then released it.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “The important thing is that they’ve got me now. And I’ve got some friends who are making sure it sticks. So…”
She swallowed again, eyes still closed. “The important thing is you’re gonna be okay. I’m just…”
She bit her lower lip, then forced out the words, “I’m just sorry you got mixed up in any of this. That’s all.”
The silence coiled around them both, filling the room. Sunrise struggled to keep control, and for a moment almost succeeded.
Then, an involuntary whisper, “Luna!”
The name forced itself from her, and in that instant she could no longer hold back her tears. All she could do was cover her face, and try to keep quiet while they fell. And yet, there was that part of her that seemed separate, almost uninvolved. Watching her have the galloping come-aparts, seething all the while.
Stop it, she thought to herself, over and over again. Stop it! This all started because you tried to murder someone! And you almost destroyed that girl's life! Stupid, self-pitying bitch, you don't have the right to cry!
Then, unexpectedly loud, the rustling of paper cloth as the younger girl approached. The creaking of the bunk as she sat down next to Sunrise. Sunrise felt the younger girl's arm around her upper back, her hand squeezing her shoulder gently.
Confused, Sunrise looked up, and found herself staring into a pair of leaf green eyes. Younger than her own, and at least as terrified. But there was also a certainty there that surprised her.
“We’ll get through this,” Aurora said. “And whatever comes next, you’re not facing it alone. I promise.”
Sunrise gave a kind of choking, coughing sound, and suddenly the two strangers were holding each other while both their tears ran their course.
After a few minutes, they parted.
“By the way,” the younger girl sniffed, extending her hand with an ironic smile, “my name’s Aurora Borealis. Nice to meet you.”
Sunrise gave a kind of chuckle as they shook hands.
“Sunrise Shimmer. And you know,” she added with a teasing look, “I came here to rescue you. Not the other way around.”
“Yeah, well,” Aurora sighed, glancing back at their cell’s steel door, “Maybe we’ll rescue each other.”
“Mister Serpentine, I’m sorry,” the receptionist called frantically as the office door swung open. “I tried to stop him!”
Looking up from his laptop, District Attorney Janus Serpentine gave a smile and indulgent wave as he rose from behind his desk. “That’s all right, Carol. Go ahead on to lunch, I'll lock up. Hello, Mister…?”
“Hello, Janus,” the stranger said with a slight bow. “My name is Dissonance Chord.”
The DA, a sky blue man with thinning white hair, frowned for a moment and then nodded. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard of you, of course. It’s been a long time though, hasn’t it?”
“It has.”
“Yes. It’s a pleasure. I never thought we’d actually meet. Just the same, I do need to make this quick. Sorry, I know it’s early but I was just on my way out.”
“Oh, we can be done in a jiffy,” Dissonance assured him happily as he approached. “You see, it’s about the Borealis case.”
“Oh?”
With a quiet thump, the older man placed his briefcase on the desk between them. “Yes. I’m her new attorney.”
All pretenses at courtesy instantly vanished. Janus took his time, appraising the time-worn briefcase, and then its owner, with a sardonically raised eyebrow.
“Really,” he scoffed. “And just when did they start letting you practice law again? I mean, sure, from what I’ve heard, this kind of thing used to be right up your alley, but…”
“Yes, yes, God save the outcasts,” the older man gave a dismissive wave. “Defender of the underdog and all that. And I’ll admit, I’ve always loved a challenge. But in this case, I’ve come swinging the olive branch of peace. I’m not looking for a duel of wits and wiles in the court, you see. Not this time. I’d like to make you an offer instead.”
“By which you mean a plea bargain, I suppose.” The blue man shook his head with a chuckle. “Well, no deal. We’ve got the little punk dead to rights; confession, witnesses, cameras and all.”
Dissonance clicked open the latches on his case. “Actually, I was thinking more of all charges dropped, in exchange for the true culprit. Who has not only confessed, incidentally, but has also produced the murder weapon.”
Janus laughed.
“You can’t be serious! You think I’m letting your little bitch go? On my watch? In an election year?”
In the older man's hands an assortment of multi-colored folders danced like oversized cards in a magician's trick, then were dealt into a neat stack on Janus Serpentine’s desk.
“She’s innocent,” Dissonance smiled.
Janus laughed again, shutting down his laptop as he did.
“Of what, good taste?” he demanded. “Have you seen her? Why, I wouldn’t trust her to tell me the sky was blue!”
“She’s also a minor.”
“She showed criminal sophistication,” Janus said with a dismissive wave. “In carrying out the crime, in covering up for it later… hell, even in her responses to the police.”
And then, in a tone that was almost friendly he added, “Trust me, Dissonance. Even if she wasn’t guilty of this – which she is – she’s guilty of something else.”
“She didn’t do it.”
Janus crossed his arms. “Alright then, dazzle me. Why did she confess?”
“The police threatened to charge her mother for the crime if she didn’t,” Dissonance explained as he closed his case again. “Technically, it was more by implication, but the meaning was clear. They showed her the security footage, along with some veiled threats, and if you’ve seen it you know that its quality isn’t the best. Plus, her mother is very young; they look almost like sisters. By the time my sixteen-year-old client was able to speak with a friendly adult, she’d already signed.”
But Janus shook his head.
“I’m not buying it,” he said. “And I’m absolutely not buying whatever cock-and-bull story you’ve cooked up to spring her in court. Neither will a judge. No deal.”
The older man’s red-on-yellow eyes narrowed in what might have been amusement. “And yet, she is innocent, just the same.”
But Janus just shook his head, his expression becoming thoughtful.
“You know, it’s funny,” he mused. “I remember the stories, back when I was just starting out. Everybody talked about you. Hell, whispered about you would be a better word for it. You were like the Doctor Gonzo of Canterlot. Crazy, but brilliant. Running your own practice while managing a high school, of all things.
“And you actually had the old guard spooked somehow, that was the funny part. I mean, really spooked. For a long time. Some of them, they wouldn’t even talk about negotiations with you, even years later. They’d just say it was you, and that a deal had been reached. Never how, or why. The mystery alone was tantalizing for a young man like me.
“Then, word was, somehow you just… lost it. Stopped teaching, stopped practicing law. Went off in your own little world, selling snake oil or something. Finally devolved into an urban legend. The kind of crap the kids write about on Creepy Curry.”
He shook his head again.
“There was a time when I’d’ve loved to face you in court. See what you were made of. But now I’ve seen you, and… well, I have to admit I’m disappointed.”
He sighed. “I guess it’s true, you should never meet your heroes. I mean, you were this colossus. Unpredictable. Intimidating. Larger than life. Now… well, just look at you. Just another old man with his best years behind him, trying to recapture lost glory. I mean, you’ve got to be, what, pushing eighty?”
Dissonance's smile was frost, his voice lowered almost to a growl through slightly bared teeth.
“You have no idea.”
The district attorney shrugged. “If you really want me to humiliate you in court, by all means, represent you little murderess and change her plea. I won’t stop you. Or hell, challenge the confession, I’d love to see how you think that’ll fly past a judge. Or a jury, come to that.
“But if you’ll take my advice, old man, you’ll back off and let it happen. It’s too late for you to get back in the game. Years too late. Time has passed you by.”
Then, sneering, Janus added, “Or failing that, at least get yourself a decent suit. Get your game on, and get ready for the fight of your life. Because if you think you’re going to beat me on an attempted murder rap, you’ve lost a hell of a lot more than some damned school.”
Taking his coat from his chair, he began putting it on, adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a fundraiser luncheon in my honor in just over an hour. After that, I’m meeting some family friends at the country club. I've got my own election, plus Governor Bedfellow is running for senate, and if he wins he's endorsing me to take his place. So I’ve got no time for some senile fool’s nonsense.”
While Janus had been speaking, Dissonance’s eyes had steadily hardened, his smile widening into a mad grin. Now, he lifted the tip of his jackalope-headed cane, pointing it directly at the district attorney’s chest.
“So much for the olive branch,” he said, his low voice resembling nothing more than a tiger about to strike.
“Just what the merry hell do you think you’re doing?” Janus demanded.
“And you know, you really shouldn’t talk about age, Jan,” the tatterdemalion continued in the same growl. His teeth were fully bared now, his eyes wide and glowing a strange amber color. “You, of all people. Why, just look at you. Twenty years of smoking slowly closing you up from the inside, three martini lunches with a case of bourbon under the desk, and from I can see, you never walk farther than your car and back…”
“You just get the hell—” The blue man began, then stopped, swallowing hard.
“…high stress job...” Dissonance went on, “...hardly any time for the wife…”
Janus winced, clutching at his left wrist. His breathing was becoming shallow, labored, even as the older man continued speaking.
“…why, it wouldn’t surprise me if someday soon, emergency services got that fateful call…”
Janus’ legs gave way, and he stumbled against his desk, falling to his knees. He opened his mouth to speak, to shout, to call for help. But no sound came.
“…ohhhhh, I hate to even think it,” the madman continued through the grin of his mismatched teeth. “You, alone in some ambulance, surrounded by strangers, hearing their machines vainly counting out those last, desperate clenches your black little heart has to offer…”
Eyes wide, Janus Serpentine stared at the grey man in horror, his life and strength flowing out of him. The antique cane was still pointed at him, unwavering. Impossibly still, as if it were a sniper rifle held by a marksman carved from stone.
“Beep…” Dissonance intoned, still grinning. “Beep… beep… beep…”
Janus finally managed to speak, his voice a dry whisper. “Dis…”
“Beep…”
Reaching out, vision blurry. “Please…”
“Beep…”
Falling fully to the floor, clutching weakly.
“Beep…”
Janus Serpentine heard himself make a helpless, gurgling noise.
“Beeeeeeeeeee…..”
The district attorney went still, hands relaxing, head lolling limply to one side.
“…eeeeeeeeeep, beep… beep… beep… beep…”
Slowly, the world swam back into focus, the darkness that had swallowed it receding. With more difficulty than he'd imagined possible, Janus forced himself to raise his head and look at Dissonance Chord. The rag-tag man was crouching before him now. His silver-headed cane upright again, supporting his weight as he held it in both hands.
“I took the liberty of providing you the usual forms, along with the relevant files on your desk,” Dissonance purred. “I’m sure you’ll find them acceptable. I expect you to agree to the motions and file accordingly before the end of business tonight. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
His normal pallor returning from its momentary greenish hue, Janus managed to vaguely shake his head, no.
In return, Dissonance gave him a smile that was almost kind.
“That’s fine,” he said, rising again.
Turning, he strode casually to the door. Then, hand on the knob, he turned back to the other man, who had only just pulled himself to his hands and knees.
“I know that in a case like this you’d normally prefer to keep things all kinds of hands-on, what with this being an election year and all,” Dissonance said, still smiling. “But do feel free to have one of your ADAs handle the appearance this time.”
With a wink, he added, “No offense, Janny, but you look like hell.”
And then he was gone, the office door silently closing, his laughter coiling and lashing behind him like the tail of a draconic god.