inch of it is some different form of lacquered or polished wood, and shiny mahogany benches sit atop a duller floor of the same material. A waist-high partition separates an empty viewing area with two tables, and I breathe a sigh of relief that no one is sitting there waiting to either break me out or speak on my behalf. That would be super inconvenient.
I take a spot behind a table next to my toadstool of a lawyer, which is difficult, because they have my tail chained down to my legs, and it makes sitting awkward. I look down at the yellow, orange, and red feathers that tip my scaled tail and make sure they’re all accounted for. Nothing I hate worse than losing pretty tail feathers. They’re a cockatrice’s pride and joy.
I get myself settled as much as I can and look up to find a—surprise, surprise—mahogany judge’s bench. A massive black-robed figure shuffles papers as I take my place, and I can’t help but stare at Judge O’Vine because the dude is a massive minotaur.
I’ve never seen one in person before. I’m completely taken aback by just how gargantuan he is. I run my surprised green eyes over his furry arms and his serious rack—of horns, that is.
I’m tempted to immediately shift my hair until it’s blood-red, instead of the ombré yellow-orange that I love, but I decide to wait. I’ll keep that as the pièce de résistance in case my sailor mouth and give no fucks attitude doesn’t get the job done.
The prosecutor clears his throat. “Sentencing case 11764: The Supernatural People against Sinclair Denali, a female cockatrice shifter who has been convicted of: Breaking and Entering, Grand Theft Auto, Indecent Exposure, Disturbing the Peace, Public Endangerment, Reckless Driving, Evading Arrest, Assault, Assault with a Deadly Weapon—”
“It was a glitter bomb,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “How is a glitter bomb classified as a deadly weapon?” I demand, internally smiling when the judge glares at me and slams his gavel down twice.
“The defendant will remain silent until all charges are read,” he warns and then turns back toward the suited man reading off my offences.
“Damaging Public Property, Defacing a Monument—”
I chuckle at that, and the judge’s horned head snaps back to me, his eyes alight with promises of retribution if I ignore his command to be quiet again.
I got you right where I want you, bull boy, and I haven’t even had to drop any T-bombs yet.
The prosecutor looks back at the file in his hands. “And lastly, Fraud.”
Judge O’Vine gives a terse nod and then looks back to me. He takes me in more thoroughly, and his eyes fill with confused interest. He turns to the prosecutor. “Did the jail get new uniforms?” he asks while studying my bright purple scrub outfit.
Wow, talk about unobservant. I’ve been standing here for almost four minutes and he’s just now noticing my sweet threads?
“Not that I know of,” the prosecutor answers.
The chains clink as I raise my hand and wait to be called on. The judge eyes me for a beat before dropping his chin. I take that as a sign to go ahead and explain. “I’m a cockatrice, right? I’m sure you know how much my species loves color. But check this, it turns out that I have this super awesome ability to change the color of things that have extended contact with my body,” I tell him, running my chained hands down my bright purple uniform.
He just looks at me.
“I can do clothes, shoes, underwear, my hair and my feathers, my nails...pretty much anything if it touches me for long enough. I once made out with a boy in eleventh grade for so long that I turned his skin green, which was awesome because it’s, like, one of my favorite colors.”
I lift my hand and put it to the side of my mouth like I’m about to tell the judge a secret. “Downside, though? He wasn’t a great kisser. I kept thinking if I kiss him the way I wanted to be kissed, he’d catch on, hence the long make out session, but he didn’t get the hint. He kept doing this fish out of water thing with his tongue, and that just doesn’t work for kissing. Well, not unless he’s kissing someone’s cli—”
“Enough!” Judge O’Vine shouts, cutting me off. He shoots me a disapproving look and then shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it of something.