“You didn’t tell me we’d be appearing before the state’s Supreme Court,” Vicki hissed in my ear as she grabbed my arm. “I am not dressed to appear before the Supreme Court, Wyatt.”
“Sorry, sis. I didn’t expect you to tag along.”
Vicki glared at me for a moment before delivering an exasperated huff. She pivoted on her heel and strode back to the officers, stopping about ten feet away.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “my darling brother failed to inform me that the purpose of the trip today was to appear before the Supreme Court, hence my everyday attire. I would like to correct this lack of respect before the court convenes, but I didn’t want to alarm either of you. With your permission, I’ll adopt more formal attire, part of which includes my staff of office.”
The officers glanced to one another before the one who served as our guide shrugged and said, “Uhm, sure.”
I don’t know what they were expecting, but I’m sure what happened next wasn’t it.
Vicki lifted her left hand and traced a complex pattern with her fingers as she recited words in that ancient language she used for her spells. A kaleidoscopic halo appeared about six inches above her head and rained a cascade of light particles to the floor. When the shower of light faded, Vicki stood in the aisle garbed in a tailored conservative pantsuit, the slacks in black and the blouse in gray. A black robe of glossy velvet hung from her shoulders, serving as the suit’s jacket, and stopped just above her ankles. The robe did not close, nor was it designed to, and silver runes ran down the vertical seams and circled the cuff of each sleeve.
Vicki now held her staff in her right hand as well, and while the contours and physical dimensions matched the staff I’d seen in the past, the look of it and its sheer presence was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Always before, Vicki’s staff had seemed a dainty thing, little more than a garnishment to help her meet the vision people expected of Magi. But this staff? Even twenty feet away, I felt it in my very soul. It seemed alive to me… alive and hungry.
The officers gaped at the change. Both sets of eyes were almost comically wide. The officer who’d brought up the rear as we walked through the building edged his hand toward his sidearm.
Without another word, Vicki turned and walked back toward the front of the courtroom. She chose to sit across the aisle and two rows back from us. She gathered her robe around her as she sat and leaned the staff against her shoulder. I wondered who this regal dignitary was and what she’d done with my imp of a sister. As soon as she was settled, Vicki met my eyes and smiled, and as the smile lit her eyes, I saw the sister I loved and had known my entire life.
* * *
After a few minutes of waiting so that we understood the gravitas of the people whose day we interrupted, the side door in the far corner opened. The same uniformed officer stepped through. She walked to the ‘stage-right’ corner of the bench, squared her shoulders, and spoke in a hall-filling voice, “All rise! The Supreme Court of the State of Washington is now in session.”
Nine individuals filed through the side door behind the officer and ascended the bench. The justices assumed their seats, and the center justice cracked a gavel. She said, “Be seated. Sheriff Wilson, it’s been a while since you appeared before this bench. Please, step forward and introduce your associates.”
Sheriff Clyde stood and stepped to the speaker’s podium, placing his case file on the lectern. “Your Honors, as the Chief Justice intimated, I am Sheriff Clyde Wilson of Godwin County. The young man sitting at the aisle is Wyatt Magnusson, Alpha of Precious and Godwin County. To his right is Gabrielle Hassan, and to her right is Karleen Vesper. To her right is Lewis Mitchell, who is one of the principals involved in the case that brought us here today.”
“Thank you, Sheriff, but you seem to have missed someone.”
Before Clyde could turn, Vicki stood and approached the gate in the balustrade separating the gallery from the court. She said, “Your Honors, please forgive my lack of preparedness. I am Victoria Catherine Magnusson, Heiress to Clan Magnusson, Heiress to the House of Merlin, and bearer of Requiem, the Black Staff of Ruin. I provided my brother and his party transportation today, and he neglected to inform me he was coming to address the Supreme Court.”
The justices cast nervous glances to one another before the Chief Justice asked, “Forgive me, but did you say Heiress to the House of Merlin?”
“Yes, Your Honors,” Vicki replied. “He was—or possibly is—my grandmother’s grandfather.”
“May I ask the purpose of the qualifier?”
“Well, Your Honors, no one is one-hundred-percent certain Merlin is actually dead, so I hedge my bets.”
I fought to keep a straight face. If Miles hadn’t seen fit to introduce himself to Vicki, I didn’t want to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak and pun very much intended. But that raised an even bigger question. How did Grandma not recognize her own grandfather? As far as I knew, she hired everyone working the grounds personally and managed the crew as a whole. Did Miles change his appearance prior to becoming one of the grounds staff? Or did Grandma just not tell anyone that the Merlin of legend routinely weeded her flower beds?
“That is a very interesting thought, Lady Magnusson,” the Chief Justice remarked, drawing my attention back to the proceedings. “You are the first Magi to grace the Court in any of our tenures; be welcome.”
Vicki nodded graciously and side-stepped to sit by the aisle in the row opposite me.
“Sheriff Wilson,” the Chief Justice continued, “present your case, if you please.”
Sheriff Clyde took the justices through the case he had assembled, culminating in the request for a warrant to apprehend Paul Burkett to face shifter justice.
“And why are neither this Sloane Martinez nor the girl Sally Poole present?” one of the justices—a middle-aged man sitting on the far stage-left side of the bench—asked into the silence after Clyde completed his presentation.
I didn’t like the expression on this justice’s face, so I stood and approached the balustrade’s gate. “That was my decision as Alpha of Precious and Godwin County. We are working out a misunderstanding between Sloane Martinez and the State of Nebraska and didn’t want that mess to affect our purpose here today. Regarding Sally… well… she’s been traumatized enough during all this, and I wanted her to be free to begin putting it behind her.”
“I don’t approve of you making decisions for us, Mister Magnusson. I’m tempted to request a recess until such time as these witnesses can be brought before us.”
“If I am to address you and your associates as ‘Your Honor,’ I expect the same courtesy and respect in turn, sir. The proper form of address is ‘Alpha,’ ‘Alpha Wyatt,’ or ‘Alpha Magnusson.’ As far as you not approving of me, I don’t care. It is my understanding that this hearing is largely a formality, and if you drag this process out over your inflated ego being a little butt-hurt that we didn’t bring a traumatized adolescent here so you could traumatize her further, I have no problem going over your head. I already need to talk to the feds anyway, and I have no problem making sure the Shifter Council is aware of your petty obstructionism.”
Before the justice could respond with what his expression implied would be rather heated, the Chief Justice cracked her gavel. “Enough, Lyle. Alpha Wyatt is very much correct that this process is a formality, and unlike you, I was a justice of this court the last time the Shifter Council removed one of our number with cause. I recommend you not attract their attention in a bad way.”
I sensed movement to my left just before Vicki said, “And I would like it to be a matter of record that Clan Magnusson and the House of Merlin will stand with their wayward son, even if he has hopped the fence to the shifters.”
Damn… Vicki didn’t quite throw down a gauntlet, but I suspected—out of everyone standing in the courtroom—she was by far the most dangerous person here. I wasn’t all that anxious to find out what ‘the Black Staff of Ruin’ meant, eith
er.
“Lady Magnusson,” the Chief Justice responded, “I appreciate your steadfast defense of your brother—”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Honors, but I wish to correct your implied misunderstanding. Yes, Alpha Wyatt is my brother, and I personally would defend him no matter what. However, in this instance, I am speaking on behalf of Clan Magnusson as a whole and the House of Merlin. Both families—in their entirety—consider Alpha Wyatt to be one of our own and will defend him or any cause he believes in as if he stood within our ranks as a respected Magi.”
And… there went the gauntlet.
“Very well,” the Chief Justice concluded. “I feel as though we’ve wandered a bit from our reason for being here. Mister Mitchell, do you have anything you’d like to add?”
Lewis stood. “No, Your Honors.”
“Does anyone feel that we should deliberate the case?” the Chief Justice asked her associates.
The justice on the far ‘stage-left’ side of the bench looked like he was about to speak but pursed his lips and remained silent.
The Chief Justice nodded once. “Very well. I call for a vote. Raise your hand if in favor of issuing the warrant for Paul Burkett that Sheriff Clyde and Alpha Wyatt have requested.”
Eight hands went up, and I wasn’t surprised at all to see the argumentative sourpuss was the only hold-out.
“The request for a warrant is hereby approved. The court’s clerk will issue said warrant within ninety minutes. Court adjourned.” Another crack of the gavel, and we all rose as the justices stood and filed out of the courtroom.
As soon as the side door closed, Vicki recited words as her left hand traced a complex gesture, creating another kaleidoscopic cascade of light particles. When they faded, she was back to everyday, casual attire.
“I’m glad that’s done,” she said. “I hate the formal robes. Whoever designed them hasn’t realized it’s the 21st Century and that there are more breathable materials than velvet.”
* * *
In the end, it only took the Supreme Court’s clerk a little over thirty minutes to deliver the warrant. Once we had that, there was no reason for us to remain, and Vicki opened a portal back to Precious.
11
The damp coolness brought Paul out of his peaceful sleep more than anything else. He pawed for the covers in a half-awake state and found thistle, grass, and a rock. That finished what the cool dampness started in rather short order.
“Wha—” Paul vocalized his confusion as he sat up and blearily examined his surroundings.
A full moon illuminated the countryside almost as bright as day, and no clouds occluded the stars. He sat on a small grassy rise about twenty-five yards from a forest’s tree-line. A slight breeze blew across the field, and he shivered as the dampness—now recognized as dew—pulled heat from his body as it evaporated. Faint wisps of pine, mint, and other forest scents wafted along the breeze.
Then, he realized he was nude.
A sound drew his attention, and he looked over his shoulder to see a group of people emerge from the forest. A young man led the group, and he held something in his hand. But it was too dark to see what it was.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Paul gasped. “I don’t know what’s going on. I went to sleep in my apartment and somehow woke up here. I don’t even know where I am.”
The young man stopped about fifteen feet away. He lifted his hands, and Paul heard the crackle of paper as he unrolled whatever it was in his hand.
“Paul Burkett, you incited your associate—Lewis Mitchell—to violate a prohibited-hunting zone wherein Mister Mitchell attempted premeditated murder against one of the locals. You are now within a few feet of the geographic center of Godwin County. It will be midnight in twenty minutes, and starting then, you have until dawn to reach the county line—in whatever direction you choose. If you reach the county line, you will be free and clear.”
“And what happens if I don’t make the county line?”
“Then, you won’t be free and clear.”
Paul frowned at the lack of further explanation. “Well, what about clothes and a GPS or a compass or something?”
“We caught your friend in the act of attempting to murder one of my people who possessed nothing more than you do right now. As such, that is all you shall have for this challenge. But don’t despair. We took a vote and decided on giving you a fifteen-minute head-start.”
Paul shook his head as he fought the urge to freak out. “This is crazy. What you’re doing… this can’t be legal.”
The young man chuckled. “Oh, yes, Mister Burkett… it’s very legal. We have a warrant from the state Supreme Court granting authority to apprehend you to face our justice. Since you and your friend are such expert hunters, we decided our justice was for you to know what it felt like. Meet your hunter… or should I say… huntress.”
For a heartbeat or two, Paul didn’t notice any difference. Then, he saw it. A shadow slinked out of the night, and it took everything he had not to break down into gibbering terror. A black panther—the night too dark to determine jaguar versus leopard—stalked up to the young man’s side. Its eyes remained fixed on Paul as its tail lashed side to side, expressing its opinion of the captured hunter. In that moment, Paul knew this was his last night alive. Even with the best gear and a thirty-minute lead, he couldn’t outrun one of Nature’s apex predators.
The young man leaned far enough to the side to stroke the cat from neck to tail, then scratch behind its ears. The cat’s tail abruptly switched from lashing to a languid swish. When the young man’s hand stopped scratching its ear, the big cat proceeded to rub its length along the young man’s leg.
Movement on the young man’s left side drew Paul’s attention, and an outsized wolf stopped to stand beside the young man and leaned against him. The young man stroked the wolf—whose shoulders brushed the young man’s hips—and scratched its ears, too.
“So, as I said earlier,” the young man said, “you get a fifteen-minute head-start. Then, Gabrielle starts.” He indicated the black cat. “At thirty minutes, Karleen starts.” He indicated the wolf. “And at forty-five minutes, the rest of us start. It would not surprise me at all if the ladies decide to toy with you for a while. Cats are known for the games they play with their prey, and Karleen has been looking forward to your hunt for a few days now. Just remember: all you have to do to win is step across the county line.”
Paul couldn’t take his eyes off the massive wolf leaning against this guy. He’d never seen anything like it. “Do I at least get some underwear if I win?”
“Nope. You get to live. If you win, you should never set foot in Godwin County again. A poster with your picture, your crimes, and kill-on-sight authorization within Godwin County decorates every bulletin board we have. If you win and set so much as a toe across the county line again, you’re a dead man. Understood?”
“What happened to Lewis? Is he dead, too?” Paul asked.
Just then, the young man’s watch blared an alarm. “And that’s midnight. Run. You have fifteen minutes.”
Paul wanted to rage at the man, but something in the back of his mind told him the next fifteen minutes were his only hope of surviving. Giving the young man his best snarl, Paul pivoted to his left.
“This isn’t over,” he snarled, then took off running.
Wyatt, Gabrielle, Karleen, and those predator shifters who volunteered all watched Paul run into the night. After at most a minute, Wyatt snorted a chuckle. “Yeah, it is. You just don’t know it yet.”
His lungs burned. His legs ached. His feet throbbed.
Paul didn’t know how long he’d been running, but his body screamed to stop and just let them end it. His arms bore scratches from briars and other thorns. His legs the same. His feet… well… rocks, thorns, and who knew what else had probably slashed his feet into bloody messes.
A howl washed over him, and a part of his brain gibbered in terror. The howl was closer this time. Then, a cascade of howls
farther away answered the first.
Come on, Paul. Just give up. Let them end it. You’ve not going to win anyway. Just lie down and die.
Paul shook his head as he stopped for the briefest moment to catch his breath. No. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t just give up. He didn’t know who these assholes were, but he was not about to give them the satisfaction of just lying down and letting their pets kill him. If he’d learned nothing else from his old man, it was that everybody should fight to keep living. Each of us only get one trip, and no one should be able to take it away without a fight.
Giving the night a growl of his own, Paul pushed back into a run. Every fiber of his being still ached, but he wasn’t about to die if he had anything to say about it. Sure… maybe he could’ve fashioned a spear or a trap or something to take out the black cat. And maybe he’d get lucky and take out that ginormous wolf, too. But Paul believed people made their own luck, and he didn’t see the margin in trying to fight his way free. Especially not since that scary kid had told him something about ‘the rest of us’ starting forty-five minutes after he did.
* * *
Minutes later, Paul vaulted over a deadfall tree and attempted the same with the one right behind it, but his foot slipped on the wet moss covering the shadowed ground behind the tree trunk. He fell… wrong. A ghastly CRACK! and the sharp spike of pain told him something broke. He rolled past the edge of the trees into a clearing, perhaps a meadow, because he could see another tree-line in the distance.
Talk about the ultimate Catch-22. He could cry out and draw attention, thereby hastening his end, or he could keep quiet and try to crawl his way to freedom, probably dying in the process and almost certainly losing whatever broke if he lived.
Before he could decide, though, the giant wolf padded into view. It made eye contact with him, then regarded his broken leg. The chuff it made sounded almost disappointed. The wolf brought its gaze back to meet his for several moments before lifting its muzzle to the stars and howling.
Roc Page 9