Justice - Act 1
Niki’s smile blossomed into a full and musical laugh. Her eyes lit up and she shook her head with amusement. “What’s this?”
As Logan led Niki into her apartment, Whistler, Jessica and several people she didn’t know all stood and applauded. “It’s your party,” he said with a grin. “Happy Mistrial,” Logan kissed her on the cheek.
Niki laughed again, slowly entering and looking around. Besides Whistler and Jessica, the seer, there were five others whom she didn’t know. They all seemed to be laughing and having a good time, regardless.
Whistler waved them off as Niki approached him. “Demons I know — don’t worry, they’re all friendly and... only mildly evil.”
Niki nodded, the smile still in her eyes. Turning her head from the store bought cake sitting on the kitchen table, she noticed several decorative packages partially concealed on the kitchen chairs under the table.
“What’s all this?” she walked into the kitchen and Logan hurried past her.
“Uh, presents,” he said quickly, sliding a chair back under the table to conceal its present. “They’re for later,” he insisted. The Slayer nodded with mock seriousness and glanced at the whiteboard on the fridge.
Happy Mistrial!
Niki’s smile was renewed. She turned and grabbed Logan around the waist, pulling him close and hugging him. “Thanks,” she said into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight. The embrace lasted for several seconds until Jessica entered with a quizzical frown.
“Hey, you two going to cuddle all night, or are we going to get this party started?” The instant she finished talking the apartment erupted with sound. Someone had put on a tape of the Ramones in concert and cranked the volume higher than medical professionals recommend.
Niki and Logan entered the small living room and saw everyone crowding around the coffee table. It had been set up as a small bar with various hard drinks and stacks of disposable shot glasses.
“We’ve brought the kinds of alcohol you like,” one of the demons said with a grin. “And we brought some kittens for later.” Before Niki could enquire about the kittens, a shot glass was placed in her hand and filled.
“To manifest injustice,” one of the demons said with a loud laugh which could just barely be heard over the music, “and many more!” All the heads tipped back and nine shot glasses were emptied.
Later into the night, when the cake was mostly gone and the floor was littered with small plastic cups, Logan and Jessica brought out a stack of presents. He wore a big grin and Niki held his eyes for a long moment as Jessica arranged the packages around the Slayer on the couch. Whistler turned down the music to a more appropriate level.
“First,” Logan said, lifting a shiny package and handing it to Niki, “let’s get the official stuff out of the way.” She tore it open and found inside a large manilla envelope. “Your personal effects from Riker’s,” Logan said with a smile. Everyone laughed and Niki thanked him with a light punch to the knee.
“Next,” Whistler handed over a small box with a red plastic bow on it. She opened it and found it filled with mail. “All your bills for the last two months.” Several of the demons laughed and poured some more drinks.
“You know how to make a girl feel welcome,” Niki said with a friendly glare at the demon in the plum jacket. He shrugged with a grin.
“You might want to open the next few in private,” Logan advised with a glint in his eye. “The contents of your closet seized as evidence,” he handed her several packages which were obviously bundles of clothes wrapped in shiny paper.
“Give her the next one!” Jessica called out. Whistler agreed, raising his shot glass. Logan acquiesced and reached beside the couch for the last present.
“What is it?” Niki frowned, trying to look around him.
“Stand up,” he told her, hiding what it was with his body. She flashed him a skeptical look, and finally stood up. “Turn around,” he said with a grin. With a raised eyebrow, she did.
It was like slipping into a warm bath. Logan draped the worn, black leather over her shoulders. He gently took her shoulders and turned her around again. Swallowing, she looked at each of them in turn, wondering how much of what she wanted to say had survived the dozen shots.
“I don’t know some of you,” she said bluntly. Some of the demons grinned even wider. “Some of you I know, but have never really appreciated,” she looked from Jessica to Whistler. “And some of you I just want to throw on the floor and fuck all night long,” she didn’t make eye contact with Logan, but she felt his nearness like a warm glow. She looked from the grinning demons to Whistler and Jessica. “I guess what I’m trying to say is thanks. Something it’s taken me a long time to learn... is this...” she blinked and swayed a little, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. “Good friends... are the difference between a conviction and a mistrial.”
“Hear, hear!” One of the demons raised his shot glass and all five of the demons drank.
Jessica slowly turned to look at Whistler. “That... was so beautiful.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on the demon’s lips. Several of the other demons roared in laughter and the music was turned up again.
With a steady arm, Logan guided Niki into her room and closed the door. He sat her on her bed and knelt before her. “Niki, we have to talk. Seriously.”
Niki nodded. “Sure. What is it?” She was still a little unstable, but sitting and listening to the sobriety of Logan’s voice had exactly the effect he intended.
“The mistrial changes some things,” he said, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “The State has dropped the charges against you, and my firm, which wanted to see you get locked up for life, is now back to trying to kill you.”
Niki nodded with a smile. “Back to old times, then, is it?”
Logan shook his head. “The thing is, the Council was trying to kill you. They’re pretty dead set against aiding my firm, but I don’t know what they want any more.”
Niki’s eyes narrowed. “I have a feeling they’re going to want me dead even more pretty soon.” She squinted with sudden confusion. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow? What is this, Wednesday?”
“Tuesday,” Logan corrected distantly. He’d been dreading going back to Wolfram and Hart. He knew eventually he’d have to face what he’d done. He had no doubt that there would be consequences, but technically, he had promised not to get an acquittal. And there had been no acquittal. He doubted that would satisfy Fischer, however. “You’re right, I do have to get to sleep.” He gave her a gentle shove in the center of her chest. “And so do you.”
She grinned and let the force of his shove carry her over backwards onto the bed. With her eyes closed and a smile on her face, she slipped into unconsciousness wrapped in the warm embrace of her beloved jacket.
Waking up late the next morning, she found her apartment still littered with small cups and open bottles. Fortunately, none of her guests had decided to stay the night. Niki began making her way through the party rubble when, with a frown, she heard something mewing behind her couch.
She reached back and retrieved a small squirming ball of fuzz. As she looked at the kitten, she realized something which nearly made her drop the poor thing. Last night... no vision. She shook her head once to clear her thoughts and realized what she had to do. It was certainly a sobering thought.
Coffee first, her brain demanded. Mess later. She was about to set the kitten down when she realized the environment into which she’d be setting it. There was that mess to clean up too.
She carried the little fuzz-ball into the kitchen and glanced casually at the whiteboard, drawing a smile back from last night’s party.
Happy Mistrial!
call me -L
Logan waited at his desk for Niki to call. He knew that while his cycle had returned to that of a normal human this past year, Niki remained a nocturnal animal. A few months in prison couldn’t change that. He expected the call sometime around noon, factoring in the coffee element.
His eyes lifted every few seconds now from his desk to the door where he expected to see a fuming Fischer carrying a sword or torch or goat’s head or something. Logan had been going through his arsenal of spells and invocations, tallying up exactly the amount of power he had if something big were to come after him or his family — he had decided on a nice broad-based Sumerian protection spell. Tawnie had threatened Rachel so he’d enchanted his wife’s wedding ring while she was sleeping. One item he knew she never took off. Tawnie wouldn’t be able to touch her without going through him. Which, of course, was always an option.
So Logan sat uneasily at his desk, glancing up every time someone walked by, waiting for the inevitable.
Occasionally, though, he did glance down at the case he was building. Burned in his memory was the image of the demon bar he had visited when he had been looking for a mercenary to kill the demon Wehx. Five innocent people strung up from the ceiling, eaten alive in the middle of a human / vampire heroine orgy. Wolfram and Hart had the power to shut it down. They wouldn’t, of course — they’d likely do all they could to keep it up and running. But then, Wolfram and Hart need never find out.
The case itself was just a cover. His contract with Wolfram and Hart stipulated that he needed to give six weeks notice before pulling out. Because he had over estimated the length of Niki’s trial, Logan now had one week left with this firm. And he certainly didn’t want to be assigned any more cases — he’d be fine never seeing Tawnie again for as long as he lived.
So he glanced occasionally at the case on his desk. Finally, someone did step into his office and Logan nearly jumped out of his skin. Michael gave an odd frown, then looked behind him to check what Logan was so anxious about.
“No, it’s fine. Come in, Mike.” Logan closed the file and stood.
“It’s Michael, actually. Never cared for the diminutive.” The tall dark man in the white silk shirt and blue silk tie sat down across from Logan, setting a small duffle bag next to his chair. Logan nodded and sat.
“Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to presume–”
“I’m here in my official capacity as your liaison to Tawnie Fischer.” Michael cut straight to business, folding his hands and cocking his head. “I regret to inform you Ms. Fischer has been let go.”
Logan blinked. Luck? Me? “The Senior Partner’s fired her?” he asked with incredulity.
Michael considered this. “In a manner of speaking. It would be more accurate to say she was let go.”
Logan frowned, giving an uncertain little chuckle. “Let go how?”
The other man shrugged. “Fifteen storeys down.” He caught Logan’s surprise and held up a hand, “oh, don’t worry — she was given a very generous severance package.”
Logan breathed slowly inward. He breathed slowly outward. He didn’t want to know what very generous meant. “Because of the mistrial?”
Michael shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m just here to tell you that since my volunteer work was exclusively between you and Ms. Fischer, I’ll be leaving and resuming my day jobs.”
“Right,” Logan nodded. “At the ICU and all that.” Michael nodded in response but was otherwise silent. “Well, thanks for the heads up—”
Michael snapped his fingers. “Oh, that reminds me...” He reached down beside his chair into his duffle bag. “This had a post-it on it with your name on it.” He set the thing down on Logan’s desk.
Logan nearly gagged. Now he knew what very generous severance package meant. He swallowed. Tawnie Fischer’s head did not: It merely rolled to one side. Logan's eyes rose to meet Michaels'. “Thanks,” he said weakly.
Michael nodded and stood to leave.
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