The Gods Defense (Laws of Magic Book 1)

by Amie Gibbons

  THE GODS DEFENSE

  LAWS OF MAGIC BOOK ONE

  AMIE GIBBONS

  Copyright © 2016 by Amie Gibbons

  Cover art and design © 2016 Oleg Volk

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2016

  Gremlin Publishing

  Nashville, TN.

  https://amiecuscuriae.wordpress.com/

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  For my parents

  This is all your fault.

  Never should’ve taught me how to read.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “This is ridiculous, Your Honor.” I slapped the judge’s desk before I could stop myself. Oops, good thing we weren’t actually in court. “Can you say Twinkie defense?”

  Reily shot out of his chair. “Objection.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Reily. This isn’t a courtroom. There is no jury. And tone it down, Ms. Berry,” Judge Spenser said, giving me a glare over his bifocals as Reily sat back down. “This may be an informal meeting, but that’s a little tarter than I like my lawyers.”

  It was a little tarter than the wrinkled old prune liked his women.

  I sat down, smoothing my suit skirt. Women lawyers don’t wear pantsuits to court, or interviews, or even last minute meetings with judges in their offices in the South, but especially not in front of a judge like Spenser. I perched on the edge of the leather chair. If I sat back, it would’ve dwarfed me. Not meant for small women. Geez, even Spenser’s chairs were chauvinistic.

  Or maybe I was a little crankier than I thought.

  Wading through a crowd of protesters screaming on the streets so she can get to a meeting to screw with her case will do that to a girl. You’d think they’d take a freaking Friday afternoon off.

  Spenser’s office wasn’t big, he was just a state trial judge after all, but it was dressed to the nines. Polished mahogany desk, thick wine colored curtains pulled back on the window taking up practically a whole wall. The opposite wall was one big built-in bookshelf filled with books of statutes and cases.

  Can you say affected? Like anyone researched in the twenty-first century by combing through books instead of Westlaw or Lexis or another online database.

  Tasteful glass and china knickknacks dotted the shelves and Spenser’s giant desk to complete the look.

  “I apologize, Your Honor,” I said, gripping the briefcase in my lap for all I was worth. My boss was always teasing me about my talking hands. “But there is no basis for this defense. Mr. Reily is merely trying to use the recent confusion to muddle our case.”

  “I have the right to present an alternate theory of the crime, and this is a valid defense, Your Honor,” Reily said, rat face pinching up. “Hamstead v. Polok, last year, the judge allow-”

  “That was in New York.” I flung my left hand out and Reily jerked away, my fingernail barely missing his cheek. Oops. I grabbed my briefcase again. “It was pled out, it never even made it to appellate court. It has no relevance in this case.”

  “The judge allowed the Defense to use it. The man pled out after the defense was allowed. Since then, there have been two more cases where the defendants used the Gods Defense. O’Connor v. G-”

  “Neither of those were criminal cases.” Hold onto the briefcase. Hold onto the briefcase. “Those were civil disputes where the gods hired corporations, giving them trade secrets in return, and the corporations claimed they had no clue the gods were going to do anything illegal as payment. They were not saying the gods made them assault someone.”

  Reily held up a finger. “Could you please ask Cassandra to stop interrupting me?”

  I blanched. The informality.

  “I know she’s young and pretty, but-”

  “I can understand Mr. Reily being annoyed at my interrupting, but I wouldn’t do it so much if he had anything relevant to say. For instance, what do my age or looks have to do with anything?”

  Reily and Spenser shared a look. You know, that boys club look older guys get when they’re faced with a young female with the audacity to think she knows better than them.

  I thought I was screwed the second Spenser was assigned this case. Now I knew I was.

  It’s not over yet. Pull up your big girl panties, stop whining and start persuading.

  “Your Honor,” I said.

  “I’ve heard enough, Ms. Berry. The law must change with the times,” Spenser said, standing up. The irony of his statement still probably vaulted over his head.

  Reily and I stood, too.

  “Every day since the Awakening, we’ve tried to determine what laws apply to the gods and what they can do. We know they can affect people’s minds and actions. Unless you can show Dionysus could not have affected this man, I’m allowing the Defense to use The Gods Defense and to subpoena Dionysus.”

  Was he shitting me?

  “Your Honor,” I said, hand flying, fingers twitching. “If you allow this, even if he doesn’t win, defendants will be using this as an argument every time they’re put on trial. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to kill my wife, a god made me do it. He wanted a sacrifice.’ Dionysus isn’t even in Nashville. He claimed Vegas. Nashville’s Apollo’s. Reily has no”–I punctuated with a slash of my hand–”evidence Dionysus was in any way involved. Dionysus had no motive. There’s no reason to allow this defense. It’s... it’s… it’s ludicrous! Your Honor.”

  Spenser narrowed his eyes. “You are dangerously close to a contempt charge, Ms. Berry. This meeting’s over. I’ll see you in court Monday.”

  Shit!

  # # #

  The sunset as I exited the courthouse was amazing, all bright pinks and oranges, with yellow and green streaking though. Sunsets before the Awakening were never that spectacular.

  I took a deep breath of the cool December air, letting it wash through me as I looked around the square.

  One of Nashville’s many sidewalk singers was strumming a guitar across the street, matching the tune to the water fountains’ dancing streams. He was good, perfectly in sync with the fountains, his voice strong and beautiful. He was attracting a nice crowd of professionals leaving work.

  At least someone was having a good day.

  “Sorry Cassandra,” Reily said, walking up next to me.

  “Oh, for what?” I smiled, shaking my head. “For doing your job? For bei
ng good at your job?”

  “For using your first name and saying you were young and pretty.”

  “Okay, that.” I pointed at him. “That was low. What was that?”

  “Playing to the audience. Spenser and I go way back. And he-”

  “Is an old, chauvinistic prick who rules against practically every woman lawyer under the age of forty in his courtroom?”

  “See, there’s that interrupting thing again.” It was his turn to grin as he waved a finger at me. “I’m not the only one playing to the audience. You do that because you think it’s cute and it makes you look like a green but fiery underdog.”

  “I swear, I don’t do it on purpose. I’m trying to scale it back because it’s so unprofessional. But you were pissing me off.”

  He snorted. “I noticed. You’re young, you’ll learn not to get so worked up.”

  Well that was hitting on condescending. I took a deep breath. “Why, thank you. Teach me your ways, oh wise and old one.”

  He gave me a look.

  I shrugged. “You sound like my boss. He keeps saying I’m going to burn myself out.”

  “You will.”

  “But… shouldn’t we? Shouldn’t we throw ourselves in? Shouldn’t we give it our all? These are people’s lives we’re playing with here. Don’t we owe it to them? Saying ‘don’t burn yourself out’ is like saying ‘half-ass it.’ I’m not okay with that.”

  “But you have to pick your battles. You can’t fight all out on every case, or you won’t have the energy to fight when you need to.”

  “Maybe I just have more energy than you, old man. You ever think about that?”

  “Oh, ouch! And the little girl comes out swinging.”

  “Haha. Okay, seriously. I gave you a great deal. Why are you fighting so hard on this? Is this one of the ones worth the fight?”

  “No.” He snorted again, shaking his head. “I begged my client to take the deal. Probation. It’s nothing. Anyone would’ve taken it. But he refuses. He wants a trial and he wants to use this defense. In my entire career, I’ve never had a client fight me this hard.”

  “Wait.” I threw my hands out and Reily jerked away to avoid the swinging briefcase. “You didn’t come up with this defense?”

  “No. He did, but hey, if I can be the attorney to get this defense to be something legally viable…” He stared out over the concrete square encasing the courthouse. “It’ll be huge. Make history. It will be…”

  I searched my brain for a good mental illness defense case, then grinned. “The magical McNaughton?”

  He snapped his fingers, looking back at me. “Exactly!”

  “See, that’s what I’m afraid of. We’ll have to come up with a way to test if magic is controlling you like we test for mental illness. How are we going to manage that?”

  “It’ll happen sooner or later. Magic’s upsetting the law right now, but it’ll adapt. The law always does.”

  “Yeah, but it’s never faced anything like this. We’ve got magical animals arguing for their rights, a President suggesting a tax on magic, a new agency to regulate the quality of magical goods, and a media circus over the latest magical being losing control or having an accident every week.”

  I paused to take a breath. “Let’s see, what else? So many to choose from. Religious protests? Anti-religious protests? How about the protests around magical businesses? My friend Millie is trying to get a magical invention patented, there’s protests on both sides around that one.”

  “It’ll settle down eventually.”

  “I’m just worried about what will happen in the meantime. Like that damn bill the President’s pushing to get through the House.”

  “The one to track and register magic?

  I nodded.

  “That terrifies me and I don’t even have any.”

  “Take it from someone who does, the second someone tries to register me or my friends? They’re getting shot.”

  “Well, if you do shoot anyone, your business is always welcome.”

  I grinned. “Like I’d get caught. Give me a little credit. Hey, you want to grab a drink? I have to hit the office first, but after that I want to work out a deal for the Teed case before the weekend.”

  Reily waved and I glanced down to see his wife at the bottom of the steps. I waved too.

  “Cassandra, let someone who has been a lawyer longer than you’ve been alive give you some advice?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Get a life.”

  I scowled.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “You’re not going to be young forever. Do something with your friends. Grab drinks and don’t talk about work. Go on a date. Take a mini-vacation and go hiking in the Smokies before you have to worry about what a hike will do to your knees. Do something outside of prosecuting this weekend. Okay?”

  “I’ve got a trial to prep for with a spanking new defense to crush. I don’t have time for a life this weekend thanks to someone.”

  “You’re going to burn yourself out.” Reily shook his head. “See you on the battlefield, little lady,” he drawled, tipping an imaginary Stetson and practically running down the steps to his wife.

  “Bye!” I had to laugh as I headed down the steps and pulled out my phone. Millie had called when I was headed to the courthouse and I told her I’d let her know how the meeting turned out.

  We could grab a drink and talk about boys like we did in law school… When was the last time I had a boy to talk about?

  That would’ve been Three-L Spring before I found out what a lying, sack of… Okay, breathe.

  Can you say didn’t want to go there?

  “Cassandra!”

  I turned and my stomach dropped.

  How many times could I think, “Oh shit” in a ten minute period before it became redundant?

  Henry Hepner jogged up the courthouse steps, panting. His thousand dollar suit hid the extra weight around his middle well, but it couldn’t do anything about what shape he was actually in. He was pushing fifty, with a bald spot in the middle of his dark brown hair, a little goatee to make up for what he was missing up top, and brown eyes that were always soft and sweet.

  Even when he was making deals with naive young things to sell their souls.

  Devil’s Advocate had never been literal before the gods woke up.

  “Hello Henry. Here to sign up souls, or is this a social visit?”

  “Cute.” He smiled, all white teeth and twinkling eyes. Used car salesmen had smiles like that. But the worst they’d do to you was take your money. “I want to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  He pointed to the courthouse. “Your case.”

  How does he even know about this? “It’s a little, nothing assault case.” I squinted.

  Where was that rat I was smelling?

  “My client doesn’t want this defense becoming common.”

  “Why does Hades care?”

  Henry paused. “People blaming the gods for every little indiscretion could put the gods in a very bad light if others start to believe it. They’re already struggling with reconciling their ways with the law.”

  “Their ways, huh? Nice way of saying enslaving.”

  “Cassandra, they’re not enslaving people. They’re building a following. Everyone follows of their own free will. And they can leave whenever they want. Just like any other religion.”

  “Don’t spin me.” My hands dug into my briefcase’s handle so hard I was surprised my hands didn’t vibrate and make the steel melt into my skin.

  Only had to do that once to teach me to keep my cool.

  I loosened my grip with a deep breath. “If they don’t take something from their followers, why can I see lines of energy going into their temples? Hell, why don’t they tell people what goes on in their temples? Why don’t their people talk about it?”

  “They aren’t the first businesses, or religions for that matter, who have non-disclosure agreements.”

  “They don’t an
swer questions. Like where the hell were they ‘sleeping’”–I put up air quotes, nice trick carrying a briefcase–”for thousands of years. Or why!”

  His smile stayed in place but his eyes went sad. “Has working as a prosecutor made you this hostile?”

  “I’m not hostile.”

  “You have been to me ever since...” His eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah, ever since you left the school and started working for the gods. Dammit, Henry, you used to stand for something. You were the one who said ethics were the cornerstone of law. And now look at you. I’d say you sold out, but law school professors already make bank.”

  His face froze. “Everyone has a price, Cassandra.”

  “No, they don’t. That’s just what people say when someone waves enough money in front of their nose. How much was your soul worth, Henry?”

  His smile inched up a few notches. “My client wants you to plead this out.”

  Nice change of subject. Can you say hit a nerve?

  “He wants this before others start getting ideas about accusing the gods without basis.”

  My hairs stood on end. There was... something. I focused on him.

  My peripheral vision fuzzed away, people on the stairs becoming blotches of moving colors and the square blurring into a blob of green. Henry’s head came into sharp focus, red light bleeding out of it. Black streaks ran through it like poison in the veins.

  Two years ago, if you saw colors around someone’s head, it meant they were standing in front of a neon sign… or you were drunk. Now, to me, they meant emotions, thoughts, possible actions. It took me months after the Awakening to figure out what I was seeing.

  I clucked my tongue. “Not nice to lie to a psychic, Henry.”

  His smile warmed, the streaks disappearing. “Finally admitting what you are?”

  “What? I have no problems with being a psychic.”

  He spread his hands. “But you refuse to acknowledge your patron god.”

  I jabbed my finger up at his face. “When the gods woke up, they brought magic back. They didn’t give me my powers, they just stopped withholding them. I don’t owe him anything.”