Advent Petit wagged his stumpy finger at Gwillym, “Gwalchmai, police this room thoroughly
and make certain you don’t leave anything behind that might suggest we’ve been here.”
The little demon whined, “Hamish told you to do the clean up job, Petit.”
Advent grinned, “Well my fine friend, now I’m telling you. Seeing as how I’m senior to you, I have the power and authority to delegate. That’s what I’m doing my boy, delegating. When you get a few more whiskers and have some junior demons look up to you as a mentor, then you can do some delegating too. However, until that time comes, just do as you’re told. If there’s any slip ups, they’ll be on your head not mine. So you better hop to it laddie.
Short, fat Gwillym Gwalchmai gave the girls cozy bedroom another look before stepping through the wall into his home world. He was half way through when something out of place caught his one good eye. He stepped back into the room and took a closer look at the floor near the wall. At first it appeared to be nothing more than a rolled up dirty piece of bum paper.
He was about to throw it away when his insatiable curiosity got the best of him. Tiny, wart covered hands unrolled it. His single eye became large as he read the note. He thought, “Clever girl,” as he tore it to shreds.
He mumbled, “The boys will get a big laugh out of this one,” and stepped out of the room, back to his home.
Claw like fingers digging into the skin of her face and hands dragged Angie away from her happy dream. A nice dream about waking up to bright sunlight streaming in through her window and then having breakfast with her parents and little brother
Shrill little voices called, “Get up, get up you lazy thing. It’s time for your trial. No time to make yourself decent.”
She followed the three demons over to the far wall.
The biggest one shouted, “In you go,” and motioned her to go into wall.
Angie sucked in a big breath and stepped through the black rock. Her eyes grew as big as saucers and her jaw dropped open. Sitting on the judge’s bench with her ratty brown hair covered by a long grey wig was Aaliya Thomas. She held a big black gavel in her chubby fist. Angelina shouted, “What are you doing here Alley?”
There was a big smirk on the fleshy face as she pounded the gavel on the desk top. Aaliya roared, “Silence in the court room,” and turned to the small imp sitting at the corner of her desk. “If the prisoner speaks again, muzzle her. Now who’s the prosecutor?”
A fiend that looked like a prune got up from behind a small table and bowed towards the judge’s bench. “The honourable Hamish Gallup, your ladyship.”
Aailiya still had the silly smirk plastered on her face, “Call your first witness Sir Gallup.”
“My first witness is you, your ladyship.”
Alley Thomas tittered, “Oh my goodness, well good Hamish ask away.”
Angie screamed, “Alley why are you doing this?”