The Dungeon resided seven levels below ground level and could only be accessed by a huge elevator requiring a security code. The five of us rode down in silence: Di, Duncan, McClintock, Warren, and myself.
"Ummm, what exactly is The Dungeon, LT?" Duncan asked as the elevator beeped to let us know we'd reached the fourth sub-level.
"It's a jail designed to hold even the strongest of angels and demons. We keep minor offenders down here. We also use it as holding for offenders awaiting deportation. Those who behave are allowed visitors and those who prove too troublesome are sent to other facilities."
"Like The Oubliette?" I asked, remembering Reed saying she'd been sent there after fighting her commanding officer.
"Yes, like The Oubliette and The Gilded Cage. Those are the only two in North America. The Organization has quite a few in Asia and Europe. There are–"
"Who determines guilt and innocence?" Di interrupted.
"The Order's Book of Laws, the acting Magistrate, and the arresting hunters."
"So an old book and human error?"
Duncan and I glanced at Di, hearing the challenge in her voice. There was a strong sense of rebellion brewing in her. I'd like to say it was my doing, but her dislike of authority seemed to come from something deep down inside.
The elevator beeped again before Warren replied.
"The Book of Laws is subject to review every fifty years and Magistrates are usually chosen from the most logical judicial hunters, often contemporaries." Warren marshaled his expression, but anyone who knew him would have noticed his unease. Knowing his past, he likely had a rocky relationship with the law. "We try to be fair and swift whenever possible... but no legal system is completely infallible. Mistakes happen."
Di stared up at him for a long moment then smiled.
"Thank you for being honest, Lieutenant Uncle Warren."
He smiled.
"How is that possible?" McClintock asked, uncharacteristically quiet. "If the law determines right from wrong, then how can it be... fallible... flawed. How can the law be wrong?" The last tumbled out in a rushed jumble.
"You're an idiot if you can't see the system's imperfection ," Di said in a cold deadpan.
"Cops get it wrong all the time," Duncan agreed.
"All the time," I added.
"But that's cops, not the law, right."
"The laws of this country once said people of dark skin were little more than cattle." Di tilted her head towards Warren whose skin was slightly darker than mine, but whose nose made it clear he was African American. "Laws are written by men. Men are stupid."
I stifled a laugh as the elevator beeped for the last time and the doors slowly opened on the bottom level. Beyond was a wide and dimly lit hall of old brick and mortar. The air smelled of age and magic, and felt older than the building above. We followed the hall down a long and winding path to a pair of heavy doors sealed by a strange circular contraption that looked like a mix of puzzle and combination lock.
"That's some Indiana Jones type shit."
Purell's telltale tie-dye stained the door frame, but the doors themselves were clean. Warren called for a halt.
"Corporal, you're an Earth Mage, correct?"
"Yes."
"How are you at detecting traps?"
YOU ARE READING
Demon Hunters: Last Class
Science FictionWhat would you do if you learned that Heaven and hell are real? Demons skulk through the shadows and angels watch from the rooftops. What would you say if I told you they've always been here? *** Lyric Psalm lived a normal life with normal parents a...
