I couldn’t have missed it. Remo had to be wrong. I raced up the stairs and slid to a stop in the kitchen, staring at the clock on the stove. 5:01. It would take me at least two hours to get to the courthouse. By then it would be closed. I slid to my knees, clinging to the counter with my fingertips.
Eyes closed, I fought to breathe through the loss. Everything, everything, was gone, and I’d not even put up a fight. Roger had won without a whimper from me.
I gripped the edge of the counter and yanked up as I stood, pulling the granite off. I flipped it to one side, sending it crashing through the wall as I shook with anger. “I’m an idiot.”
I knew without looking that Remo was behind me. “No, you’re not.” No platitudes like “Don’t worry, things happen for a reason” or “You can start again” came out of his mouth, for which I was grateful.
“What do I do now? What would you do?” I turned, and Remo stepped up and pulled me into his arms.
“If you’re asking how I would handle it, I’d kill Roger and steal back everything that rightfully belonged to me.” He smiled as though giving me his favorite recipe.
I leaned my head against his chest. “That did cross my mind.”
Laughing, he held me away from him so he could look me in the eye. “That is not you.”
“No, but I can fantasize.” I grimaced. “Maybe I can talk to the judge? If I get a lawyer and appeal the decision.” But even I knew how fruitless the words were.
Minutes ticked by and I stood there, not knowing what to do. “I’m going to talk to Roger.” The thought hit me that he’d be going home, no doubt for a victory party. “Maybe I can convince him . . .” Who was I kidding?
Behind us the phone rang, and I glanced at it. “Probably for you.”
Remo nodded and moved to answer it, pressing the receiver to his ear. “What is it?” No “Hello,” no “This is Remo.” What is it? I made a move to leave him to whatever conversation he needed to have.
He held the phone out for me, his eyes worried. “It’s for you.”
I walked over and pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Alena, this is Judge Watts’s court assistant. He’s asked me to call you on his behalf.”
I frowned. “Yes? Do you need me to sign something?” Probably that was all it was, some silly signature needed so Roger could take everything.
“No, we don’t. Not yet. Judge Watts has asked that you please come to the courthouse right away. We were delayed and will be starting your hearing as soon as you arrive. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
“Really?” I gasped. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
The other end of the line clicked off and I hung up, excitement coursing through me. “Did you hear that?” This was a miracle, the chance I needed to make things right. I ran upstairs before Remo could answer and gathered up the duplicates of my paperwork. I had a chance. A chance to make things right.
I double-checked my papers, making sure I had everything, including the original bakery deed. I fanned the papers out on the bed, staring at them, doing a quick tally. Yes, I had them all. Hope flared in my chest. This was my last chance, and I knew it. I would not blow it again. I was going to fight for all I was worth to get my bakery and life back. To get my home back.
To make the world see I was worth seeing. I existed, and I was a good person. When I wasn’t a giant snake, that is.
Hurrying, I changed into slacks and a nice button-down top, then brushed my hair back from my face.
“You can do this,” I whispered to the mirror. “Don’t hesitate, don’t cringe. You are worth this.”
I nodded at myself, then ran back downstairs to find Remo standing where I’d left him, a frown on his face.
He nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Alena, you have to know this is a trap. No courthouse calls someone personally to tell you your hearing has been delayed. Ever. And certainly not that they will wait for you to arrive.”
A sour twist developed in my belly, like I’d eaten a whole bushel of crab apples, and the hope that had been growing withered on the vine like a rotten tomato. “A trap.”
“Pretty sure.” He nodded, picked the phone back up, and dialed out. I listened to the ringing. No one picked up, and he tried another number. And another. After the fourth call going into empty space, he turned and faced me. “Santos has my people.”
Chills swept through me, thinking of Beth, Sandy, Tad, and Dahlia on his side. Even Yaya had said she was going to be at the courthouse. “And we know that Theseus has mine.” The setup was too perfect; no matter what we wanted to think, we were on our own, unless . . . “There is someone I can talk to. I think he’ll help.”
Remo raised an eyebrow, but there was no jealousy flashing in his eyes. “Who?”
“Come on, I don’t have a number. But I know where he is.” I ran upstairs and changed out of my nice clothes, trading them in for jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I slipped on a pair of running shoes and was once more ready to go. I met Remo at the front door, and he waved me through.
We climbed into his muscle car, and I directed him to the Supernatural Division of Mounted Police. I climbed out and ran to the door, thumping on it. “Smithy, we need to talk.”
The door opened, but it wasn’t Smithy who grimaced at me. It was Oberfluffel.
“Snake girl. What do you want?”
“I need to speak to Captain Smithy.”
“He’s been let go of his position.” He flipped a picture at me. A picture of me slumped in Smithy’s arms at Zeus’s pool party. My face flamed bright red.
“Look. It wasn’t how it looked. They gave me some sort of juice that made me tipsy. Oberfluffel, where did he go? I need his help.”
His face purpled, and tiny veins popped out all over the edges. “OBERFALL. And I don’t give a blue harpy’s shit where Smithy went. He was fired, his wife is divorcing him because of this”—he shook the picture at me, and Remo took it—“and here you are thinking Smithy would help you?”
I took a step back. “He said he was my friend.”
Remo handed the picture back to Oberfluffel, but he spoke to me. “I take it there are no other options?”
My shoulder’s drooped. “No.”
“Then we go to the courthouse alone.” He took my hand and led me back to the car. We drove out the exit of the Wall, and once more the protestors cheered us on. I waved at a few of them; the girl I’d saved from the werewolf was still there. She held up a sign that read, “We Are All the Same.”
“Well, that’s a crock of pig poo,” I muttered. Remo looked across at me and nodded.
“Maybe they need to believe it isn’t, though. To believe that fear is just false evidence of something appearing to be real. Humans are funny that way. It’s easier for them to pretend they aren’t afraid. When deep down they know the truth. That they could be chewed up and spit out by any single Supe out there.”
He stared out the windshield, calm as could be.
“You aren’t mad about the picture?” I blurted out, unable to wonder any longer.