The Devil's in the Detail. Matthew S Wilson

once more.

      ‘And how does the defendant plead?’

      Olivia kept a pleasant smile on her face.

      ‘Not guilty, Your Honour.’

      He flicked another page. His expression betrayed nothing.

      ‘I see.’

      David immediately felt sick at the thought of anyone reading an account of his stag party.

      ‘And is the prosecution prepared to commence?’

      Silence.

      Dominion Galloway looked up, one of those thick black eyebrows arched.

      ‘And where, may I ask, is the prosecution?’

      Silence again. Although it wasn’t Ezekiel or Olivia’s fault that the prosecutor hadn’t yet arrived, David interpreted their uncomfortable squirming to signify that a Dominion wasn’t the sort of Angel that you kept waiting. Ever.

      Just as Olivia opened her mouth to speak, there was a loud clank of a key being turned in a lock and the Black Gate now began to swing open. A waft of sulphur filled the courtroom and David felt a blast of heat on his face as though somebody had just opened the door to a furnace. As they heard heavy footsteps approaching from the darkness beyond the open gate, David leaned across and whispered to Olivia.

      ‘Another Angel?’

      She kept her eyes on the blackness as the footsteps drew closer.

      ‘Angels aren’t permitted through there. Only Demons are.’

      He felt scared, but was also physically incapable of taking his eyes from the direction of those awful footsteps. The first thing he saw was its hair. Black, shiny hair, slicked back slightly – presumably with blood. As it took another step into the light, he could see its forehead. He couldn’t see any horns, but perhaps they only came out when it whipped helpless souls. It had black eyebrows, arched and thin … almost human like. And then David saw them. The eyes. They weren’t the red slits he was expecting, but rather an emerald colour that in other circumstances may have been quite striking. Next were its lips – currently closed, but undoubtedly hiding a set of fangs that were so sharp that they could even slice through a steak from a cheap pub.

      The creature had now fully entered the room and was walking toward the prosecution’s bench. David could plainly see its face and upper body. Strangely, it wore a suit – undoubtedly removed from one of its unfortunate previous clients. He prepared himself for the imminent sight of its hind legs. He imagined them to be fawn-like, with little trotters. But they weren’t. They too, were remarkably human. Dressed in matching suit trousers and wearing a pair of leather shoes that, truthfully, put David’s pair of trainers to shame.

      Dominion Galloway raised an eyebrow in surprise.

      ‘Gabriel? We were expecting Baal to represent the prosecution.’

      ‘Pardon, Your Honour. Monsieur Baal had a trial in the South Western precinct which required his attention. I will be this trial’s prosecutor. And I apologise for being late, but there are many more stairs than I remember.’

      David had expected the Demon’s voice to be rough. Gravelly. Almost snarling. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was decidedly and quintessentially French.

      And like all French accents, it was absolutely lovely.

      As Gabriel took his place behind the prosecution bench, David realised that this “Demon” was in fact a man. And not just any man. One of the most beautiful, well dressed and courteous men that David had ever set eyes upon. He smelled good too.

      The Dominion remain unswayed and flicked away the apology.

      ‘Well if you both would be so kind as to make your opening statements, perhaps we’ll be finished in time for the Second Coming.’

      Gabriel dispelled his sarcasm with a polite smile, clicked his heels and neatly opened a folder on the bench before him.

      ‘Oui. Of course, Your Honour.’

      And although he was technically dead, David Shepherd was now officially in the fight of his life.

      CHAPTER 4

      ‘By any man’s judgement, David Shepherd was a good soul.’

      David’s heart leapt. He wasn’t sure though if it was the fact that the prosecution was conceding that he didn’t deserve to be sent to Hell, or just that it was that incredible French accent. Although as an Englishman, he was sworn to hate all things French, there was an undeniable beauty to it. Even the most troubling news sounded somewhat enticing in a French accent. It was the complete opposite to the German accent, which could make a flowery Shakespearean sonnet sound like a dire proclamation of death.

      Gabriel unbuttoned his jacket and strode out from behind his bench. He stood in the middle of the floor, giving the Dominion an even look.

      ‘He was not a dictator. Nor was he a rapist.’

      He turned and looked at David and Olivia.

      ‘He never laid a finger on his wife or daughter. He never cheated on his taxes. He always gave loose change to the Salvation Army.’

      The briefest of pauses.

      ‘But neither was he an Angel.’

      Gabriel glanced at Ezekiel. Their gaze held for a moment, and for a second David could have sworn that there was history between them. With a smirk, Gabriel spun around and faced Dominion Galloway once more.

      ‘But Your Honour, the passage to Heaven is not left to man’s judgement, no?’

      And with this he strode toward the back of the room, pointing at the enormous tablets above the rear doors.

      ‘Protocol dictates that any soul which has broken the Holy Commandments and not atoned for these mortal sins with their flesh and blood, must then atone for them eternally in the afterlife.’

      Gabriel stood calmly behind his bench, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

      ‘The prosecution will prove, beyond any doubt that in the forty-three years of his natural life, David Shepherd broke not one, not two, not even five, six or seven of the Commandments.’

      The statues of the saints gazed down contemptuously at David.

      ‘No, Your Honour, this trial shall prove that not only did David Shepherd flagrantly break all ten of the Commandments, but he repented for not a single one.’

      The flutter in David’s heart had now been replaced by a knot in his stomach. A knot that pushed all of the gas up through his windpipe and into his mouth. His eyes watered. Sweat trickled down his back. He swallowed hard.

      ‘And as protocol dictates, Heaven holds no place for a soul such as this. The only place for such a soul …’

      David almost felt the statues of the saints almost lean down toward him.

      ‘… is ….’

      Their outstretched fingers edging closer.

      ‘…the deepest, darkest recess of Hell. The tenth circle of Hell.’

      The stone lips had curled into grins.

      ‘Morismia’.

      Although there were only five people in the courtroom, the stunned silence befitted a crowd far larger. Gabriel allowed the silence to make its point, eventually striding back to his bench. David leaned over to Olivia.

      ‘What’s Morismia? What does he mean, the “tenth circle”?’

      Before she could respond, Dominion Galloway’s voice once again dominated the courthouse.

      ‘Counsellor?’

      Olivia seemed as much in shock as David was, furrowing her brow and burying her head within her folder. The Dominion sighed.

      ‘Does