Werewolf Parallel by Roy Gill Page A

clicks and howls. Grey’s chest puffed, his sickly odour flooding the court.
    “Oh, this is complete rubbish!” Cameron shouted, his agitation causing the rope cradle to swing. “What are you on about, you –”
    “Order! Order in Court!” The judge’s fist slammed into the lectern and the cries and mutters died down. “The defence will show respect. You will employ suitableterminology when addressing the Court.”
    “Objection,” the lamp quietly prompted. “That’s what you say…”
    “Ta!” Cameron raised his voice and spoke to the pit. “Ok, I object. Objection! This is me, objecting!”
    “And what is your objection?” said the judge.
    “
This is rubbish
– that’s my objection!”
    A fresh cacophony burst out.
    “Mr Duffy –” the judge warned.
    “Listen! First up, my shop – it’s not just me that runs it. There’s Morgan and Eve too. A pure daemon and a girl who used to work for a daemon! We know about the two worlds we’re dealing with – we’re not just messing about –”
    “And where are these people that you say are so involved?” interrupted Grey. “They don’t seem to be with you in Court.”
    “If they aren’t,” said Cameron through gritted teeth, “it’s not because they didn’t want to be. It’s because their train ran into something very large, grey and nasty.”
    Grey opened his mouth to protest, but Cameron pressed on.
    “More than that, our business – the one Mr Grey’s trying to shut down – it’s helped! Helped lots of daemons. Ok, some of you can travel in the human world unnoticed, if you’re a Were or a shape-shifter or whatever, but most can’t. You just stand out too much! And what about those daemons – those without the Parallel Inheritance – who can’t leave the Daemon World at all?”
    He threw his arms wide, trying to draw the attention of all the many and varied creatures present in the Court.
    “What do you do, when your magic needs a particular ingredient, or you can’t get a certain book – or you want a smartphone so you can watch humans falling over on YouTube? You turn to us. You need us! You need people like me and Morgan and Eve, who can move between the worlds for trade. You need us for all sorts of things!”
    There were mutterings from the jury. Their mood was changing. At the back, a fey woman with iridescent bluebottle wings gave Cameron a discreet thumbs up. He was doing it.
He was winning them over!
    He turned back to Grey. The bloated daemon was looking cowed. “All this stuff you’ve been saying, trying to scare us with stories of humans and their greed, it’s not…”
    “…not ‘relevant’,” whispered the lamp.
    “Yes, it’s not relevant! Exactly! It’s got
nothing
to do with why we’re here!”
    Grey’s face took on an even more ashen shade than usual. “It’s not? You mean… I’ve overlooked something?” He began to sheaf frantically through his notes. “Because I don’t think I can have…”
    He’s on the run
, Cameron thought. He swung in his cradle with a swagger.
Ha! Now to finish him off
…
    “That’s right! This case isn’t about whether I can or should trade with daemons –”
    “It isn’t?” Grey’s sparse eyebrows rose.
    “No! It isn’t even about whether the shop gets to sell old records or mouldy guitars or whatever, it’s about whether Gran’s still alive.
That’s
all your stupid will is about.
That’s
what it comes down to, that’s…”
    Cameron tailed off as a slow handclap ricocheted round the Court.
    “I am
indebted
to the opposing counsel for crystallising the issue.” Grey held his sweating palms apart. “So you agree that the case stands or falls on whether you can produce your grandmother: Lady Ives o’ the Black Hill?”
    “Yes, but –”
    “Then I challenge you. I challenge the defence! Produce her!” Grey sneered. “Show us the lady –
or give up the shop
.”
    There was a churning sensation in the pit of Cameron’s stomach. He’d let