by Juniper Hart
Landon, the Lycan, and Laurel, the fairy, had been naked in their contempt toward her. Alec, the dragon, had not said much and was harder to read, while Raven, the demon, and Theo, the werebear, were indifferent, though their annoyance was clear. They didn’t want to be there and seemed to rush matters along. Only Henry had seemed like an ally.
Lane desperately wished her grandmother was still alive. Miriam had never steered her wrong, and her motives, unlike Julia’s, always seemed clear and concise.
I just have to have faith in the fact that everything will fall into place as I spend more time among them.
Lane closed her eyes and willed her breathing to calm, her mind to clear, and for sleep to take her. She didn’t want to focus on anything but resting her tired body and soul.
As she managed to finally achieve a level of peace, the bedroom door flew open, and Julia sauntered in.
“Are you asleep already?” she asked. Lane groaned to herself.
“I was.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but I just wanted to ask you something.”
Lane reluctantly opened her eyes and looked at her mother. “What is it, Mom?”
“Did anyone say anything about me?”
Lane’s brow furrowed, and she sat up on the bed. She hadn’t even bothered to get beneath the covers.
“About you?” she asked. “No, why?”
Relief flooded across Julia’s face, and she smiled, shaking her head. “I was just worried that they would fill your head with ideas about me.”
“What kind of ideas?”
Julia shook her head again. “Never mind, sweetie. Go to sleep, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
She turned to leave the room, but Lane’s mind was racing again.
What would they say about my mom? What isn’t she telling me?
“Mom?”
Julia paused at the doorway and looked at her over her shoulder. “Hm?”
“Now that I’m on the Council, don’t you think it would be a good idea for me to get out into the world more? I can’t sit around in the cottage forever.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What’s wrong with staying here? There’s no need for you to be out in the world, Lane. It’s dangerous. I’ve told you that.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got the protection of the—”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said!” Julia hissed, spinning back to confront her with flashing eyes. “The Council won’t save you! They are cruel and cunning! They would sooner see you dead than protect you.”
“But Mom, that belies everything Grandma ever said about them,” Lane mumbled, even though she knew she was about to get entrenched in an argument she had no energy to see through.
“Lane, what happened in there? Why are you being so defiant? I thought we were on the same page about this, that you understood what we’re trying to do here!”
Oh. We’re back to “we” now.
“Mom, I just don’t think they’ll accept me as one of them on the Council if they can’t take me seriously, and how will they take me seriously if I have no experience in the real world? You have to work with me here.”
Julia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I don’t have to work with you, Lane. You have to work with me! I’m the one with experience, I’m the one who knows what’s best for this family. If not for me, the Council would have had you executed twenty years ago!”
Lane felt a slither of annoyance spike through her. How many times is she going to remind me that I owe her my life?
It was still hard for her to believe that the Council would eliminate children for the infraction of showing their abilities to mortals. How could young ones be expected to control themselves? The Enchanted would never reach the age of maturity if that was the case. Yet Lane couldn’t forget the malicious glimmer in Landon’s eye or the nearly tangible contempt in Laurel’s. They had seemed ready to execute her on the spot.
“You’re looking at me like you think I’m lying to you,” Julia said slowly. “What did they say to you?”
“Nothing!”
“Why do I think you’re being untruthful, Lane?”
“I’m just tired, Mom. I need to rest.”
“Then get some rest and stop asking stupid questions. You’ll remain here until the Council calls on you. You don’t need to be exposed to the world any more than necessary.”
Julia left Lane’s bedroom, and the younger witch slowly lowered herself back onto the pillows. Her long, pale fingers slipped beneath the pillowcase and closed around the device she had tucked away there.
It was the cell the Council had given her—standard issue, apparently—but Lane knew it had to be hidden from her mother. Julia would undoubtedly monitor every call, every text coming through. Lane didn’t want to think what would happen to her or Julia if the members of the Council suspected that the secrets on the board were being learned by someone not sanctioned.
She trailed her fingertips along the screen and stared at the device expectantly. There were only six numbers programmed into the phone, and she was forbidden to use it for any other reason than contacting the others. Not that Lane had anyone else to call, anyway.
She slid the cell back under her pillow and closed her eyes once more, but this time, it wasn’t sleep that she willed. Suddenly, all she wanted was to hear Henry’s voice again, and she silently called out to him, hoping he could hear her as she had heard him at the ceremony.
She didn’t know what their psychic connection meant, but Lane was determined to find out—even if it meant upsetting her mother.
It’ll be worth the risk, Lane decided.
5
Despite the all-nighter he’d pulled with the Council, Henry was charged, a fact that was not overlooked by his client when he arrived in court that morning.
“You ready for this?” Carmen Winter asked when he plopped himself at the defense council table.
“Not sure,” Henry replied brightly. “I guess we’ll see.”
His client scowled at the answer, but Henry’s mind was anywhere except on the impending murder trial. He had been unable to stop thinking about Lane Aldwin for one second.
“I didn’t do this,” Carmen hissed as they waited for the rest of the court to amble in.
The rows behind them were filled with journalists, family members, and friends of both the victim and Carmen Winters. It was a hobnob of the uber rich and lower class, a mishmash of Rolexes and Walmart clothing. If Henry had been paying attention, he would have noted the blunt differences with his usually astute blue eyes. That morning, though, he was somewhere else entirely.
Raven had been annoyed that he’d copped out of post-ceremony drinks, but Henry had cited court as his excuse.
“I’ll make it up tonight,” he promised her when the meeting had adjourned. “I can’t walk into trial reeking of scotch.”
“You could drink vodka like a good alcoholic would,” the demon protested. Henry still had to refuse.
“Tonight—after court. Can you meet me?”
“I’m always good for drinks,” Drake volunteered. “But I’m dead tired, anyway. Let’s go home, Rave. I hate waiting for you on Council days.” The pout in his voice was obvious.
As Henry waited in courtroom 35, however, he half-wished he had stopped for a drink or two before coming in after all. He felt like he was vibrating.
She really is my mate, he thought, embarrassed that he was so happy, even though there was no one to witness his child-like excitement.
“You’re smiling like an idiot.”
Instantly, the smile on his face faded, and he looked at Marjorie, who slid in beside him.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Where’s Patrick?”
“He’s got the stomach flu or food poisoning—something stupid and mortally exclusive,” she mumbled, casting Carmen a sidelong look to ensure he wasn’t listening. “I’m sitting second chair.”
Henry’s good mood vanished altogether, and he grunted, turning hi
s eyes toward the front of the courtroom. He would have been happy with just about anyone other than Marjorie.
At the firm, she was the only other vampire, a hire which had escaped him and gone through the other two partners. Henry had always made a steadfast rule not to mix the Enchanted with his business practices. It made things far too complicated, and he didn’t like the idea that he was being scrutinized by the immortals, even if he was Vampire Regent.
He was beyond reproach, of course, the highest-ranking vampire and member of the Council of Seven, but Henry was jaded enough to know that there were beings who would happily see him overthrown and seek his power as their own, implausible as it was.
Marjorie had proven herself a competent attorney, moving up to senior partner in record time, but that was hardly unusual for the Enchanted. They were statistically more intelligent than the mortals, their ability to absorb knowledge intrinsic.
That didn’t make Henry feel any better about having her on as second chair.
“How did it go last night?” Marjorie asked, and he glared at her.
“Are you seriously asking me about that right now?” To her credit, she paled and shook her head, staring down at the notes on the table.
“Did Sylvie go through the discovery box again like I told her?”
“Yes, but I don’t think she came up with anything new.”
Henry snorted. “Which means she didn’t do it.”
He hadn’t expected her to, not really. When he’d left the office the previous afternoon, he was sure the paralegal was only going to wait before prancing off to her lover’s office. It was the only reason Sylvie still had a job at Brandis, Carter and Ross—she had been banging Michael Carter for three years.
“Lucky for you, I did,” Marjorie said crisply, removing a page from a manila file. “Take a look at this.”
Carmen Winters leaned over with interest, suddenly listening to their conversation, but at that moment, the bailiff announced the arrival of Judge Bains.
“All rise. The honorable Judge Amos Bains presiding.”
The lawyers exchanged a quick look, and Henry’s eyes fell toward the paper Marjorie had handed him.
Oh, this is good. This is very good.
“Please be seated,” Judge Bains intoned, and the courtroom obliged.
“Nice work,” Henry murmured to Marjorie. “This will discredit the key witness.”
“Good!” Carmen cried louder than he should have. “She’s a lying whore!”
“Excuse me, Mr. Brandis!” Judge Bains snapped. “Is there a problem?”
“No, Your Honor,” Henry said quickly, glowering at his client. “It seems Mr. Winters just had a ‘eureka’ moment.”
“Anything you want to share with us?” Gillian Bennet asked from the other side of the courtroom, a smug smile on her self-righteous face.
Henry quickly turned to smile mirthlessly at the prosecutor.
“Ms. Bennet will find out as soon as her first witness takes the stand,” he answered smoothly, relishing the shadow of doubt falling over her face.
“Control the outburst,” Judge Bains barked. “This won’t be turned into a circus. It’s bad enough that the media is in here.”
“Something you can easily control yourself, Your Honor,” Henry reminded him.
“I object, Your Honor!” Gillian was on her feet. “You already ruled on this matter and declared that the public has the right to know about the details of this trial.”
“And I maintain that it unfairly prejudges my client before a proper trial has been heard.”
“She’s right, Mr. Brandis,” said Judge Bains. “I did rule on this.”
“Then I would like to move to have the jury sequestered at once without access to media.”
“Your Honor—”
“I can move for a change of venue,” Henry continued.
“Anything to prolong this trial, right?” Gillian snapped.
“On the contrary, Ms. Bennet. My client is eager to clear his good name—”
“Counsel, stop talking to one another and approach the bench.”
“What are you doing?” Marjorie hissed, but Henry ignored her. He wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself to his underlings in any regard.
“This is the first day of trial, Mr. Brandis,” Judge Bains pointed out when both sides approached. “Hardly the time to be threatening Ms. Bennet with new motions.”
“She opened the door,” Henry countered. “And I was just reiterating my objection to having the media present.”
“Well, as we have already discussed, it’s a done deal,” Gillian snapped back. “Now can we call the jury in and get to the opening statements?”
Henry swallowed a smile as he caught the flash of anger in the judge’s eye. The man was no more used to answering to his subordinates than Henry. If Henry hadn’t known better, he would have thought that all judges were Enchanted. They certainly had the egos for it.
Lane doesn’t have an ego.
The thought was unexpected, and Henry gritted his teeth. He needed to focus on what was happening before him, not on the delicate witch haunting his every move.
“I will decide when to call in the jury, counsellor,” Judge Bains said to Gillian. “You will not tell me how to do my job.”
Gillian balked and hung her head in contrition. “Of course, Your Honor.”
“Step back. And mind yourselves, both of you.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” both lawyers chorused and moved back toward their respective tables.
“You’re already making me look bad!” Carmen blubbered, but Henry ignored him. If anything, Gillian Bennet was on the judge’s bad side, not him.
“Bailiff, call in the jury.”
Around him, Henry heard the click of recorders as the reporters leaned in eagerly to listen to what was about to unfold.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Bains said when they were seated. “I have decided to have you sequestered for the duration of this trial. There will be far too much media coverage on this high-profile case, and I can’t have you tainted by the opinions expressed by the media.”
Suddenly, Carmen seemed a lot less nervous, and he shot Henry a grateful look, even though the jury seemed put-off by the news.
“I am postponing the first day of trial until tomorrow,” Judge Bains continued. “So that you might get settled in your new quarters and we can start fresh.”
“But Your Honor!” Gillian gasped, but the judge held up his hand.
“You’re dismissed, ladies and gentlemen.”
There was a murmuring in the courtroom as the reporters muttered to one another, and when the jury filed out, Gillian exploded in anger.
“That’s unnecessary, Your Honor!” the prosecutor claimed, the smirk she’d initially worn completely wiped from her pinched face.
“It was either that or a change of venue,” Judge Bains replied easily. “I wasn’t going to make it so easy for Mr. Brandis, either.”
Gillian glared hatefully at Henry, but he shrugged, winking at her across the aisle.
“Nine a.m. tomorrow,” the judge said curtly. “And Mr. Brandis…”
“Your Honor?”
“Get some sleep. You look like hell.”
“All rise!” the bailiff called, and they obliged again.
“You think that prolonging this is going to give a different result, Henry?” Gillian bit at him when the judge was out of earshot. “Think again.”
“Like I said, Gilly, I’m eager to see my client’s name cleared,” Henry said. “You might want to talk to your star witness, however. It might come as a surprise to you to find out what she does for a second job… and what the CCTV cameras caught her doing the night she claims she saw my client leaving his ex-wife’s house.” He nodded toward Marjorie and Carmen. “Looks like we have a free morning. Who’s up for breakfast?”
At that moment, he felt the vibrations of his cell inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket. His phone from the
Council.
“Excuse me,” he said, reaching for the cell. He moved outside the courtroom and looked at the screen.
She shouldn’t be calling me, Henry thought, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he answered, clearing his throat. “Henry Brandis.”
“Uh…” Lane’s voice was soft, whispery, like she was hoping not to be overheard.
“Is something wrong, Lane?” he asked quietly. “Something you need?”
“How did you know it was me?”
He blinked at the inane question. “Call display,” he replied. “Your name comes up when you call.”
“Oh.”
Henry wondered if she knew what he was talking about. “Lane, I’m glad you called, but you shouldn’t unless it’s related to Council matters… Not on this phone.”
“It’s the only phone I have.”
“Where are you, Lane?”
“At home,” she answered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”
“No, no, wait,” he said, sensing she was going to hang up. “Can I take you out for breakfast?”
There was a long pause.
“I don’t know…”
“Why not?”
“My mom… She’s at work…”
“I can pick you up. What’s your address?”
“I…” He heard her inhale. “I don’t know.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen.
“Just wait there,” he told her and realized how lame the words sounded. It seemed like she was trapped at her house. Where was she going to go? “I’m on my way.”
“This was a bad idea,” Lane mumbled. “Just forget I called. I’m sorry.” She disconnected the call, and Henry stood, as confused as he was concerned.
“Ready for that breakfast?” Marjorie asked, and Henry shook his head.
“Sorry, something came up. I’ll have to take a rain check on that.”
Marjorie eyed the phone in his hand. “Council matters? Is the new one acting out of line already?”
Henry bristled. “You’re going to need to learn how to mind your own business and use some discretion in public, Marjorie.”
She sulked, but Henry was already turning away from her, reaching for his personal cell and dialing out to his private investigator.