“Don’t,” Shawn grunted.

Tara looked up at him questioningly and then back to Ava as they were shoved into the cell. Ava glared at her and gave the smallest hint of a head shake before dropping her gaze to the floor and pulling her hood up again. She realised, almost too late, that interacting with Ava here, in front of the guards, would only incriminate her girlfriend even more. She had already gotten Shawn shackled and bundled into a cell; she really did not need to make matters worse. Shawn was right, she needed to get it together and think about other people for once.

The figure beside Ava spoke from under their own hood, surprisingly in English. “You brought a human with you? Daring.”

Tara’s face somehow flushed with even more burning shame than had already been radiating. “H-he didn’t. I… fell in.”

The guard swung his metal baton against the bars, filling the cramped room with a jarring ringing sound. He barked something at them before turning away again.

“No human languages,” Shawn muttered, translating directly into Tara’s ear.

She nodded obediently and took a seat on the second bench up against the left-hand wall. Shawn joined her and took both her trembling hands into his, squeezing them gently. All of a sudden all of the excitement of their capture was ebbing away, leaving only silence and an indefinite amount of time to sit in. Her fluttering heart slowed to a steady, sad rhythm and the shakes that had wracked her on their journey to this prison facility finally subsided. All the four of them could do was glance at each other, at their feet, or through the bars at the guards and occasional uniformed person breezing through clutching papers.

Tara’s stomach began to ache with hunger as the adrenaline left her system and allowed her mind to take stock of how her body felt. She hadn’t eaten since the safehouse. It felt like a week had passed since then when she knew it couldn’t actually be more than a day. A very long and painful day.

Malakbel stepped into the hallway and approached the bars, he wore a navy-blue uniform, and his hair was tied back in a severe ponytail that caused him to look far more menacing than he had when Tara had first met him. She jolted in place and glanced at Shawn immediately. Shawn’s eyes were lazily watching the fallen angel approach, no hint of recognition behind them. Shawn’s lack of surprise at seeing the fallen angel brought a tiny flicker of warmth to Tara as she allowed herself to hope this was all part of a plan. Malakbel was in disguise, like a cartoon character stealing guard’s clothes for the big escape.

His voice was brittle when he spoke at the entrance to the cell. The guard jumped to attention and began working at all of the locks again.

Shawn rose slowly. “We’re up first for appraisal before the court,” he said.

Tara followed suit but glanced back at Ava just once before the bars were slid back behind them. Ava’s eyes were glued to the floor, the tiny tips of her horns poking out from her hood. Shawn was re-chained and a chaperone attached themselves to Tara’s side.

Their small group began to walk, with Shawn shuffling due to the chains. Within a couple of steps, a strange sensation began to buzz in Tara’s mouth. She scrunched her lips from side to side, but they were quickly going numb. She stuck her tongue out and struggled to get it back inside her mouth again as it suddenly became a dead weight. A slight swirl of panic began inside of her as she tried to make sense of the odd feeling.

She hummed, the only sound she could make, to garner attention from her chaperone. They glanced down at her, curly horns tilting slightly, and then brought their gaze back to the corridor ahead. She hummed again, louder, and more insistent with brows raised to convey the severity of the situation. This time they did not turn away straight away.

They leant down to her face, just about brushing her ear with their lavender lips as they whispered, “Lo siento. Por favor relájate.”

She shook her head and made more noise, drawing a strange look from one of the guards. She would not relax. She could not relax.

They pulled back a little and attempted to put her at ease again in a barely audible whisper, “cálmate. Está bien.” This time as they spoke, they raised their brows as though they were sharing a secret, as though they were speaking code words between them. But Tara could not speak any words.

She suddenly realised what the secret they were sharing was. This person was causing her mouth to swell and lose mobility. They were using their powers on her. Like a bee-sting without the pain. An allergic reaction that she could breathe through. The only serious symptom being the fact that she could no longer speak. What was the reason? Were they not about to be interrogated or put on trial? It only made sense to her if it were to keep her from disrupting proceedings, or if this person was aligned with Malakbel. She gave her chaperone a petrified accusatory look in return. It was all she could do before falling back into the tempo of the group as they continued walking. She couldn’t make a scene without a plan, and she didn’t know how long she had to form one.

They were led to an auditorium that was lined with high-backed chairs seating a plethora of demons in all skin shades, horn sizes, and eye colours. They all had the same anticipation in their eyes, though, a sick enthusiasm for what was about to occur. There were guards stood stern at the entrances and exits and once Malakbel had directed them to the centre of the circle, he took a standing position next to the largest of the chairs along with a group that were all dressed as he was. Stiff lapels and brightly coloured medals and tabs sewn to their jackets.

From the tallest chair a figure stood up, their giant horns spiralling out from the top of their head both captivating and imposing. Their entire body looked like it had been coated in ivory, eerily white without the intrusion of any other shade. Like a marble statue come to life. Even their eyes were nothing but blank sheets, unclear where exactly they were looking at any time.

“We will speak in human English for the benefit of your associate,” they announced, their booming voice hitting Tara straight in the chest. She sucked in a startled breath and looked to Shawn and the others but no one else seemed to have been affected. The figure continued, “You are brought before this court for crimes of a very grave nature. You will explain yourself now or face worse consequences than those awaiting you outside this room.”

Malakbel remained in his place amongst the officers, his expression flawlessly neutral. Tara watched him, waiting. He would do something, that was why he was here.

“First, the human shall give their account.” They pointed at her with a long white fingernail that had been sharpened at the tip. Tara’s trembles returned and she took a step forward because it felt like the appropriate thing to do, but when she opened her mouth to begin explaining herself, nothing came out but a weak groaning noise.

A hand grabbed her sweater and yanked her back beside Shawn. “She is mute,” he said loudly. “But I can explain how she got here.” Tara squinted at him. Shawn was in on it. He knew her chaperone was going to numb her mouth like a damn dentist. Why did he never trust her?

The marble man stared at the two of them for a few moments before booming, “Proceed.”

Shawn thanked him and began. “It was all my doing. This human was my captive; she was not a willing participant in any of this. I brought her here for nefarious purposes. I intended to sell her on the underworld market. I pretended to befriend her on Earth with the intention to trick her into entering our realm. She has no sinful intentions, only poor luck. Her life was that of a completely average human up until meeting myself and Zibiah. I am the cause of both their misfortunes. I found a tear in the tiers and took my chances; I had no help in gaining access to Earth.”

The more Tara fought to interrupt him, the more her tongue continued to fill her mouth like a rapidly inflating balloon, or a sponge dropped into a bucket of water. She could not move it to form a single word. She wanted to, she wanted to scream that Shawn was lying, that he was not the one at fault at all.

The leader of the hearing, the ivory demon, considered Shawn’s words for a bit, looking amongst their seated fellows for head nods, raised brows, twisted lips. Collecting the reactions of those remaining in their high-backed chairs. Eventually, they turned back to Shawn and Tara. “Very well, for her part in these crimes it is an easy enough process to wipe her mind.”

Tara’s entire body jolted with the force of her attempt at screaming “No!”. It went unacknowledged by anyone in the room.

“Please proceed with the memory wipe, Malakbel.” The leader ordered. Malakbel nodded but didn’t move forward yet as the marble man continued, “Azazel, how far back do we go?”

“Six months, at least,” said Shawn. “To ensure she knows nothing about our kind.”

Why was he choosing now to tell the truth? If she lost six months of her memory, she would lose Ava. Shawn had begun working at the cafe a year ago, but it was not strange for someone to move on to another role, he could disappear just as easily as Ava.

“Azazel, you face torture sentencing of up to one century; is this your final and true account?”

Neither Shawn nor Malakbel so much as flinched at the horrifying sentencing. Tara glanced back and forth between them frantically. And then she realised, this was Malakbel’s place. He was not a spy infiltrating their ranks, he was a seasoned officer. The confidence with which he stood, the fact that the leader had called him by name. The way the other officers looked upon him comfortably. The tabs stitched to his chest were his own, she felt sick at the thought of how he had earned them.

“It is, I was the orchestrator of all of this. I led Zibiah along with me against their better judgement. I am prepared for punishment.”

Tears streamed from Tara’s burning eyes, down her swollen cheeks, dripping from her chin to her soggy sweater. She could not move, she could not speak, she could not stop this. What happened to the rule about self-sacrifice? He told her their organisation was strictly against it. It could only mean the situation was so dire, so hopeless-

“Your admission will be taken into account with Zibiah’s sentencing. Now, take eight months off the human’s mind to be certain and leave her in a hospital bed.”

Malakbel stepped forward and raised his hand in the direction of Tara’s face. Tara choked on her pleading cry, she wanted to beg them to stop, to let them all go. Not a whine or whimper escaped her, though.

“She will be returned to us upon death, but we have no right to claim her soul sooner.”

Although her body remained straight as a pin, her view shifted to the ceiling and then panned away. Her body lowering to the floor slowly without her bending a limb. A backwards anti-gravity lean.

She wanted to tell Shawn she was sorry. That she was selfish and impulsive. She wanted to shriek that it was all her fault. But this time the pool swallowed her whole, no floating before the great sink that plummeted her into nothing but blue.