Tom stared at himself in the mirror. His bruised face looked back, angry, and frustrated that Gerry had targeted him. He dressed and tried not to run his tongue along the cut on his bottom lip, or poke his badly swollen eye, or smile too hard because it hurt his bruised cheek. Hot water from his shower was both soothing and stung. But he felt better for being clean.
Ezra lingered by the window in the living room as his parents sat with Neasa, talking intensely about what was going to happen to Gerry. They paused when Tom sat down, and Neasa's anger turned to guilt as if she had been the one to beat him up. Tom knew she wanted to apologise, again.
He was getting sick of being asked if he was okay. He wasn't, but he had to lie to divert the conversation. He was sick of talking about Gerry, sick of worrying about it, and sick of hurting. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, when the village didn't hate him, and the pub wasn't on the brink of collapse.
The sun shone onto Ezra, and he was suddenly grateful to have gone through a rough couple of months. It was all worth it to have someone so handsome staring at him in such a loving way.
"Ez," Declan said. "What will happen to Gerry now?"
"He will be punished, depending on what Tom wants."
"What I want?"
"Yes." Ezra sat next to him at the table. "You can drop any charges made against him, or you can punish him. Offer what you think would be suitable to Othrowan, and he'll consider if that punishment will help him learn from his mistakes or not. Humans only get this chance twice. Then their souls are ours."
"Will Othrowan come to me?"
"Yes." Ezra's voice was always a little rigid when speaking about him.
"Maybe I'll go to him today."
"I saw him last night," Ezra admitted. "I just thought it was strange that he was in the area."
"What did he say?"
Ezra shrugged. "He was cryptic, as usual."
Tom stared at him, wondering what it was like when Ezra got along with the old angel. He stared for long enough for Ezra to divert his shy gaze. Tom softly nudged him. "Do you want to come with me? I can talk to him on my own if he makes you too uncomfortable?"
"Do you not get along with the angels?" Moira asked, leaning forwards and resting elbows on the table, the way she did when she wanted to listen intensely.
"Not anymore," Ezra said quietly. When they stared at him with puzzled looks, he decided to tell them about his past. They were a big part of Tom's life. They deserved to know the person their son was dating.
When he was done telling them about who he used to be, the murders, the wrongful accusation, and how Othrowan knew of his innocence and still punished him, Declan, Moira, and Neasa sat perfectly still with mouths ajar.
Tom reached under the table and squeezed his fidgeting hands. "I don't know how you can even be back here," he admitted.
"It's hard," Ezra said, squeezing his hand back. "But I want closure."
Declan suddenly sat forwards. "So let me get this clear, you were born an angel, and have lived as a demon for the past one hundred years because you were punished for a crime you didn't commit. And the angel who punished you knew that you were innocent?"
Ezra nodded.
"That's fucked up. That is severely fucked up." Declan shook his head. "Is there nothing you can do about this? I'd be loud about it and let everyone know the angels are not fair."
"I can't. They were extreme enough to turn me into a demon. They'll be extreme enough to take my soul if I make humans lose any trust."
"But there's nothing you can do to prove your innocence?" Moira asked. "Why would the dying woman say that an angel did it? Do you think another angel killed them and you were just unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time?"
"I have thought about that," Ezra admitted. "But I don't see why an angel would have murdered two innocent women."
"Maybe it was someone pretending to be an angel. Maybe you were set up," Neasa added.
Ezra slumped in his chair. "I have thought about that too. I tried searching for the killer, but nobody would talk to me and nobody would help me, especially not the angels."
Declan shook his head again. "Those bastards."
Ezra nodded slowly. "I gave up searching, but being back here has made me even more angry. I want justice, if not for me, then for the demons wrongfully losing their lives because of the growing violence."
Everyone in the room agreed. "But how?" Moira asked, which was a question Tom had asked himself for months.
He stood up, resting his palms on the wooden table with a fierce look in his eye. "Lets go and talk to Othrowan."
Ezra stood up too, snaking an arm around his waist. "You should rest more first."
"No, I'm done resting. I want to punish Gerry and I want to question Othrowan until I turn blue in the face."
"You already are blue in the face," Neasa commented with a grin. "And purple, and green."
Tom rolled his eyes, grinning too. "You know what I meant."
Neasa stood by the window and stared out into the trees. "Make sure you punish Gerry though. I know what you can be like, but he deserves to be taught a lesson. If you see him, tell him I'm divorcing him. It'll be all the more satisfying coming from you."
Tom felt like he was going on a mission as he stormed down the road with Ezra holding his hand, making sure there was no space between them.
He wanted to see Gerry, to see if there was remorse, or to see if he truly wasn't sorry for what he had done.
At the library, he walked in with Ezra by his side. He kept his head up high, but Haisley noticed the bruises before she noticed the demon next to him.
"What happened?" she asked, hurrying over.
"Gerry."
Haisley's eyebrows curled upwards. She knew exactly what he was like, and had listened to Tom in the past when he had expressed his frustrations. "I'm sorry."
"For what? Him or banning me from the one place that gave me hope for my future?" She didn't reply, and Tom abruptly felt exhausted. "Are the angels here?"
Haisley looked up to Ezra. He looked a little nervous, but she was still intimidated by his big stature and demon presence. "Um," she cleared her throat. "Sorry Tom. You both can't be in here."
"Are the angels here or not?" he asked bluntly.
"Um . . . "
Tom sighed and stormed past the reception desk with Ezra closely behind him. The angels were huddled in the back room, sitting on chairs and talking closely with one another. The door creaked when they entered, and they all turned around as if an important meeting had been disturbed.
"Othrowan," Tom said quietly, suddenly overwhelmed.
Othrowan rose from the cluster of angels. "Not now Thomas, we-"
"Yes, now," Tom interrupted. "We have things to discuss." He felt Ezra stand closer. Most of the angels stared at their clasped hands and gave each other strange glances. They had been around for long enough to see all types of love. But he doubted that they saw many human and demon couples.
Othrowan followed them back into the reception area. Tom glanced around, but nobody else occupied the library, other than Haisley, and he didn't care if she decided to be nosey and listen. "I want to punish Gerry. And I also want to speak with him, please."
Othrowan linked old, wrinkled hands together. "What punishment are you offering?"
Tom could only think of one way to truly punish him. "Is there a way he is forced to work with demons? He attacked me because of his hatred towards them."
Othrowan stared in a way that made Tom a little uncomfortable. "I can arrange something for him. I think this is a fair punishment." He turned to leave, but Tom stopped him.
"Can I see him? I have a message from his wife."
Othrowan looked to Ezra and nodded. "You both can see him, but only for a few minutes. He's in the basement. Don't worry, it's not as cruel as you think it would be down there. He's being looked after fairly."
The stairs to the library basement were dark, steep, and the temperature change was uncomfortable. They followed Othrowan down, he kept pausing to make sure they were getting down safely. Ezra was behind Tom with hands on his waist, guiding him down.
Tom did all he could to keep his mind away from how good his hands felt on him.
At the bottom of the stairs was a long corridor. On the right were rows of cells with thick steal bars, and doors locked with comically large padlocks. Othrowan stopped under a twitching lightbulb and loudly cleared his throat.
"Mister Hound, you have visitors."