Before another demon could reprimand me, a huge gong sounded. It was so loud, my chest vibrated with the echoes. Once the reverberations died down, all the sounds on the other side of the door stilled.

I swore under my breath. I don’t want to sound hopeless, but it feels like we’re never going to escape this place. We can’t take every demon from Demonville out on our own. Even if we kill the Prince, this is too public. Just the way he wanted it. It made me furious thinking the Prince could outsmart us. I made a silent wish for backup for the first time since I’d arrived. If Rourke was coming, he had to be on his way by now. But time was so screwed up here, there was a chance he wouldn’t arrive for months. My chest tightened. If he waited too long we’re in trouble, and he’s in trouble. My wolf flashed me a picture of us using the newly concentrated demon magic. I know, but what if it’s not enough? It sounds like there are thousands of spectators in there. The only option is to defend our case the best way we can. If I can talk my way out, or demand a retrial, I may be able to hold off at least until our backup arrives. If they arrive.

No more time to strategize. The huge doors slowly creaked open on their own to expose row after row of seated demons. We stood at the top of what looked to be a massive coliseum. That was the only word for it. The room before us was gigantic, with a large domed ceiling and huge gilded pillars running around the far walls.

The demon guards dragged me to the head of a steep row of stairs. The steps led down through levels of gathered demons to the bottom of the amphitheater, where seven lofty chairs were positioned behind a long, continuous bench of what appeared to be polished wood of some kind.

The Prince of Hell sat in the middle, his chair elevated the highest. Six other Demon Lords fanned to the left and right, three on each side.

“Are you telling me the Prince of Hell is the judge?” I gasped. “This isn’t a trial, it’s a hanging! I thought you guys were all about rules and fairness. What happened to a well-worded defense giving me a chance to go free?” Anger raced through me, threatening to overpower me. “As it stands now, I could form the best defense the supernatural world has ever heard and the Prince of Hell would still find me guilty. It’s a mistrial already.”

“The Prince is Master of Court, of course,” the demon beside me growled. “His decisions are law.”

“Master of Court, my ass,” I muttered. “Then why all this formality for nothing?” I glanced around at row after row of assembled guests. “The Prince will sentence me to something horrid in five minutes and everyone will go home. This won’t be a fair trial, no matter what happens.” I struggled against the guards for a moment as I contemplated making a break for it. Then one of the demons raised the needle and I stopped moving. “Where is my brother?” I sighed. “I want to know that he’s safe.”

“He is not in attendance.”

“How do I know he hasn’t been harmed?” I asked. “Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

Instead of giving an answer they prodded me down the steps.

We began to descend the massive stairway. As I placed a foot on the first step, a low hum began and every demon in the place turned to stare at me in unison.

As I continued down, I noticed the demons were split into hierarchies.

The back jumpsuited janitors sat in the back. They must be the working-class demons. In the middle were demons clad in black and silver. They looked a bit more professional. Maybe white-collar demons? They wore the same outfit as the guards, but I didn’t think they were all guards. It was a long way down, but once I was closer, I spotted what must be the upper-class demons. They all wore three-piece suits, hair slicked back, hands clasped in front, just like their big bossman.

The only surprise sat in the very front row. I landed at the bottom to find six demonesses in formal, high-backed chairs facing the court.

And they appeared nothing like Lily.

They were all clearly glamoured, each of them with identical long raven hair and hawkishly precise features, much like the Prince of Hell’s. They were dressed in black dresses with high collars and their eyes tracked me as I was escorted to a standstill in front of the high seats.

Other than the Prince himself, these demonesses were clearly the six biggest threats in the room. Incredible power zinged off each one of them. True demonesses were few and far between, as Lily had said, but I hadn’t realized how powerful they’d feel.

Fuckerdoodles. We can’t kill all these demonesses with the power we have. It’s no match for all these threats. We need to—

The Prince of Hell cleared his throat for a long moment before he spoke. “You will address the court’s questions in a clear, concise manner. Once we finish our questions, we shall decide your fate and you will accept our rulings. The High Court’s decisions are always final.”

I glanced around, making sure everyone took note of me before I spoke, which wasn’t a problem since every eye in the place was on me. “So where is my defense lawyer?” I mocked, searching the room. “Or someone who is assigned to plead my case? If this is a fair trial, by supernatural High Law, I want representation.”

“There are no lawyers in Hell,” the Prince answered, a toothy grin spreading across his pointy features. “Demons know if you tell the truth. You will answer our questions and your guilt will be determined as such.”

“As such—you mean by you? Let me guess. You’re going to ask me if I killed an imp, and I’m going to say yes. But you’re not going to ask me why.” I made eye contact with each of the Demon Lords as the crowd behind me began to murmur. “You’re not going to ask me if the imp committed a crime, or if my killing it was in defense against bodily injury or not. This is not set up to be a fair trial—if it were, you’d know that a unbiased supernatural High Law judge should be in attendance, not you, and I should not be tried by my extremely biased accuser.” I had no idea if that was true or not, but I guessed that none of the demons here knew either.

The Prince of Hell half rose from his chair, scowling, and placed his palms on the wooden platform in front of him, his skinny fingers splaying and curling out in front of him. Not a single piece of his hair moved. “We are in the Underworld. Your crimes are against us, and us alone. You will answer on our terms.” His pupils jumped. I was pissing him off and getting under his reptilian skin, as usual. I smiled. “There is no more debate.”