Hello, hello. How are you guys today? I've been having a good weekend so far, looking forward to Thanksgiving. NaNoWriMo is going well, I've got over 36000 words! By the way, this chapter puts Mortified at over 200000 words. I think that's cool? I hope you don't think that I'm being too braggy here.

The next couple of chapters are going to be a little dialogue-heavy. Sorry about that. It's just how it turned out. It's part of the way I get people from point A to point B without just saying, 'and then they were there.' I'm trying to ease back on that tendency of mine. But I promise that there will be action! Soon!

Thank you for the reviews! They bring me joy.

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Chapter 87: Honey

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"So," said Maddie, flatly. "You're my lawyer?"

"Y-Yes," stuttered the young-looking ghost, brushing her flower-bedecked, honey-gold hair back out of her face. "W-Well, technically, I'm not a lawyer. I'm an advocate. My name is Azalea. I'm a junior associate of Hemlock and Wolfsbane." She held out her hand, as if expecting Maddie to shake it.

Maddie stared at it as if it was made of poison. Then she sighed. Open mind. She reminded herself. She had to work with these... people, if she was to survive this. Jazz had made that much clear. She shook the ghost's hand.

Azalea beamed. A bee flew out of her delicately pointed left ear, and settled on one of the flowers in her hair. Maddie suppressed a grimace.

"Mr Wolfsbane will be here soon," said the ghost. "He's taking care of the tail-end of another case. Can I offer you some tea?" she asked, pulling a tiny teacup out of thin air. "It has honey in it and-! Oh. Wait. No. You're human. Best not. Have you been fed, though? Libra keeps a specialist on human nutrition on call."

"I'm fine," said Maddie, stiffly.

The ghost tilted her head, and froze for a moment, an eerie, wide-eyed, close-lipped smile on her paper-pale face. "Alright," she said, abruptly, becoming animated again. "Now, your co-defendant is on his way here, as are a number of witnesses. You know, your trial is causing the biggest stir the greater legal community has seen in centuries. There are people coming out of hibernation."

"Glad that someone is enjoying this," grumbled Maddie under her breath.

"Oh, sorry," said the ghost. "Just, it's very exciting, that's all."

Darn ghosts and their oversensitive ears.

"Who do you mean by co-defendant?" said Maddie, at a higher volume.

"Your husband!" said the ghost cheerfully. "Or, um," she pulled another item out of thin air, this time a green manila folder. She peered into it. "I'm assuming that Mr Jack Fenton is your husband, right? Not your brother or something? I mean," she took what looked like a Polaroid from the file, and compared whatever was on it to Maddie's face, "you don't look like you're related, but then, when I was alive, I had a brother who was five and a half cubits tall and looked downright Egyptian."

"He's my husband."

"Okay. So. First thing I need to ask is, do you want him as a co-defendant? It wouldn't be too difficult to separate your cases at this point. You could try to pin everything on him, or take the fall yourself. One of you would have to get a different advocate, though. There are rules, you know."

"I'm not abandoning my husband," snapped Maddie.

"Th-That's not what I was suggesting," said the ghost, raising her hands defensively. "It's just a strategy."

Maddie glared.

"Right. W-Well. Speaking of strategy, I just want to establish your goals in all of this."

"My what?"

"Your goals. How you want to trial to ultimately conclude. Like, if you're going to aim for being left alive no matter what, or if you'd be okay with a painless death, or if you'll push a claim of innocence." She smiled. "I wouldn't try that last one, though. It looks like there are a lot of witnesses here, and arguing for your innocence in the face of all that evidence might make you seem unrepentant if we wind up with a jury trial. Then there's always the risk that the preliminary committee will decide that the trial will be- Ah. You won't know the Latin term. Essentially, to require you to both testify, and to take a Stygian Oath to tell the truth during said testimony. I'm- I'm assuming that you don't want that?"

Maddie recalled what Danny had said about how things would be worse if these ghosts found out about some of her other inventions. "No. I don't want that."

"Alright, we will definitely argue against that," said the ghost, making a note on a pad she had, again, pulled out of thin air. Her half of the table was covered in papers, teacups, and other random objects. Including, distressingly enough, bees. Not normal bees, either. They glowed, and about half of them were striped with a lurid green instead of gold

Maddie didn't understand the bees. Or the floral name. Or the scent of honey and herbal tea that had, at this point, permeated the room. The three of them went together, but not with the ghost's declared profession. They didn't seem to fit a law-Obsessed ghost. Perhaps one Obsessed with apiculture, but not law. Or whatever chaos the ghosts practiced.

"What is the preliminary council?" asked Maddie instead.

"Oh! It's the, um. This will likely sound strange to you, but back when the inter-Realm legal system was being set up, no one could agree on exactly what the rules for trials should be, too many different value systems, so they decided that the rules should be decided on a case-by-case basis by advocates of all persons with legal standing in the case prior to the actual trial. That includes you, the alleged victim, the witnesses, the sponsoring Judge, fraidmates, immediate family, and vassals of the alleged victim and the accused, among others... I had a definition here somewhere," she said, sorting through her numerous papers.

"Fraidmates?"

"Ah, right, right. I keep forgetting that you're human. It means something a little like family. Only, ah, in the figurative sense. Not blood, but bonds of trust. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb. That kind of thing. So it would be, like, hm, spouses, I suppose, an adopted family, or close friends."

"Like Sam and Tucker?"

"If you mean Miss Manson and Mr Foley for, um, Mr Phantom, they are listed as his fraidmates, among others."

"Among others? What others?"

"Um. Well, there's Miss Manson and Mr Foley, then a Miss Jasmine Fenton, a Miss Phantom, Lord Clockwork, Lady Pandora, Queen of Elysium, Queen Dorathea of Mattingly, Chief Frostbite of the Far Frozen, a Mr Wulf, a Mr Cujo... Wow, this is a long list. Even if you don't count the dogs and the cats... Just, wow... Big names. Then the list of vassals... How big is his haunt? Gosh. How big is his lair? No wonder he's on the short list for-" She cut herself off. "Never mind. Anyway. What else do I need to tell you? Oh, yes! Our senior associate, Mr Hemlock is representing Mr Phantom in this case."

Maddie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"Mr Phantom has indicated that he wants to work with you to ensure that you receive the most lenient sentence possible, and, besides, no matter the quirks we ghosts have, we don't have to worry about that kind of dishonesty. Stygian oaths," she clarified. "We are dedicated to our profession. Also," she said, conspiratorially, "if we did engage in that kind of foolery, we'd be thrown into the Vortex of Infinite Pain. And it isn't as if we get anything from winning except for bragging rights. I mean, you aren't paying us. Mr Phantom isn't paying us." She shrugged.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Bragging rights, I've always loved to argue, and you've never seen insanity until you've seen what goes on inside a courtroom," she said dreamily, propping her chin up on her hand, her eyes loosing focus. "It's better than an asylum."

"That's... wonderful," said Maddie, struggling with a renewed desire to fight the ghost. Before she could come to a resolution about that, however, there was a knock on the room's door. Her eyes flicked over to it. It was a big, sturdy, iron-bound thing with no handle on the inside and a peephole that only looked in, not out. It was a reminder that this wasn't a hotel room, but a prison.

"That will be Mr Wolfsbane! Come in, please!"

'Mr Wolfsbane' was a thin man with lavender skin. He was clean-shaven, and had slate gray hair. His eyes were indigo. He wore a dark blue suit with pale purple pinstripes, and a cape of wolf's fur. The wolf's head was still attached.

"Mrs Fenton?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Mr Wolfsbane," said Maddie.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Fenton. Please, just call me Wolfsbane."

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After the whole 'immortality' revelation, Fenton had been on edge. He was beyond happy, even ecstatic, to hear that there was a chance that he wouldn't be, well, left alone, when time, inevitably, marched on. Not that he would have been left alone, really. He had other friends, other family, who were already here on this side. But Jazz, Sam, and Tucker... They were special. He was glad that the Core had also decided that they were special.

On the other hand, the Pilgrimage sounded fabulously dangerous, and they would have to do it alone. Well, without Danny, in any case. It made him nervous. Anxious. Fenton was trying not to go into crazy overprotective mode. Phantom was... having a harder time coping. He was currently lying across all three of their laps. It was impressive, considering how small he was, and how each of the three of them had a comfortable distance between them.

But that wasn't what was bothering him right now.

"Libra's bringing them here? All of them? Why?"

The messenger, a woman with a long braid and rainbows tattooed on her skin, answered, "Because in many legal systems practiced here in the Realms, they belong to you."

"What."

"They belong to you. It is somewhat unfortunate, but the legal framework for dealing with large numbers of persons without some measure of standing in a community is... lacking. As is our capability to house and feed large numbers of humans."

"Okay," said Fenton, pinching the bridge of his nose as Phantom mumbled angrily into Jazz's lap. "How many of them are there again?"

"Ah, think that you have misunderstood. The ones living in your lair? They are part of a community. There are ghosts among them, to chaperon them and guide them. The ones being brought here are only the ones from Amity. Except, of course, for your parents." The ghost inclined herself slightly. It wasn't quite a bow. "Of course, it will be a temporary matter. We will have facilities constructed before the initial committee is finished."

"Great," ground out Fenton. "When do they get here?"

"They will arrive tomorrow evening."

"Wonderful."

"Ugh," said Sam. "We're going to have to deal with all of them again? Again? Really?"

"I thought that these were people that you were close to?" asked the messenger, confused.

"Not really," said Fenton.

"Then why were they with you in your lair?"

"That is a really, really, long story. Can we just, I don't know, skip it for now?"