Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2)

by Adrianna Morgan

  Martin motioned Brett to sit behind them as they moved to the front of the room and the other man reluctantly released her hand. She almost reached out to pull him back, but felt the full force of the eyes in the room. Judging her. Daring her to show any weakness.

  “Liwanu,” the head of the Council said, looking at Martin. “Thank you for bringing her.”

  Martin nodded. “Thank you, Acaraho, for allowing me to.” He bowed his head and Layla instinctively followed suit.

  Acaraho banged his gavel again. “We are here as witnesses to judge the accused, Layla Donovan, in the murder of Wattan Banks. Liwanu, please take a moment to consult with your client. We will reconvene in thirty minutes.”

  Martin nodded again and escorted Layla and Brett from the room as the other members of the Council pointedly ignored her. Kuruk’s chuckle echoed behind her as she walked out on Martin’s heels. They went down the hall to a private conference room; a fraction of the size of the courtroom, containing a few chairs next to a desk and a sofa.

  Layla sighed and threw herself down onto the sofa, her hands shaking with the magnitude of what she was about to face. Never in her 29 years had she been confronted with something this huge. She had been arrested, framed, attacked, and even kidnapped, but to stand before the Were Council was an act she never wanted to repeat. Brett followed her to the couch, his hand caressing her knee before he leaned forward and brushed her hair back from her face.

  “Here’s how it works.”

  Martin walked over to the desk and sat behind it clasping his hands in front of him. He faced Layla. “You will listen to the accusations against you and then you will have an opportunity to tell your story. Any witnesses for you may come forward and speak.”

  He sighed. “Then you will be questioned. Thoroughly. It is important that you stick to your story and not reach any conjectures. Just say what happened.”

  She nodded mutely, her stomach in knots.

  Martin looked hard at her before gruffly clearing his throat. “Do not blame anyone for you being here. The Weres will assume you are trying to place blame for your actions on someone else and think of you as weak. Do not accuse or insult anyone on the Council,” he held up a hand as Layla started to object, “and that includes Kuruk. He is up to something, but until we know what it is, it is best not to let him know that he has gotten to us, gotten to you. Play it safe and you will leave here alive. Any questions?”

  “What happens if they don’t believe killing Wattan was in self-defense?” Brett voiced the question that was rattling around in Layla’s head. The one she was afraid to ask.

  Martin sighed wearily. “Then the Council will pass final judgment. We don’t believe in long imprisonment, so worst case? Death. But it won’t come to that. I will make sure of it.”

  “How?”

  “I will tell them the truth. I was the one to kill Wattan. He attacked Layla, yes, and she defended herself, but I finished it.” He smiled at her. “Did you forget?”

  Layla swallowed. She had forgotten. Although, she didn’t think Wattan would have been able to survive her strike, even if Martin had not stepped in. “Will you be in trouble for killing Wattan?” she asked, biting her lip.

  Martin allowed a small smile to play around his mouth. “No. I am a Council member. I might be chastised, but as a Council member, I can pass judgment on whomever has violated Were law and deserves to die. The only ones I need permission for are other Council members.”

  She shuddered at Martin’s words. No wonder some members like Kuruk was so drunk with power; to be able to command who lived and who died was a heady mixture. “Do you think Kuruk is the one hiding Suzette?”

  “I don’t think so.” Martin shook his head. “He hates her too much. Besides, when I was her trainer, she mentioned that her real father was a Council member. This was before Kuruk’s time on the Council. She was drunk and I assumed she was talking nonsense. Now, I’m not so sure.” He stood up and moved over to Layla. “Don’t let any of this get to you. Keep a clear head and you’ll do fine. How are you holding up so far?”

  Layla smiled. She was glad he hadn’t asked her if she was okay. She was fine, considering. Although she would be better if she wasn’t on trial and she hoped she would be able to answer all the Council’s questions clearly and calmly, even though Kuruk wouldn’t make it easy for her.

  Brett took a deep breath, his quick inhale telling. She probably looked scared. More than anything, she wanted him to pull her into his arms and protect her, but he couldn’t. Not here, not now. He kissed her hand again and she rubbed his knuckles, his callused fingers trembling slightly as they held hers. A brave smile crossed her lips; she relished his strength and his love, but she needed steel in her backbone to handle this.

  He knew as well as she did how the other Weres felt about her. Some revered her because she was Mai-coh’s daughter. Others felt it was no big deal and that she was using the legend of her father to do whatever she wanted. She’d heard the whispers the moment she stepped foot into that room.

  Her lips curled in irony. How wrong they were. But she was not stupid, she would watch while the proceedings were going on. Martin was right, someone was trying to set her up and she was not going to roll over and die.

  “So, why did the head Council guy call you Liwanu?” Brett asked Martin as she took a few more calming breaths to get her thoughts and anger under control, her beast becoming more unpredictable by the day.

  Martin shrugged. “It is my name.”

  Layla looked at him in surprise, as did Brett. “Martin is not your name?” she asked, perplexed.

  “Martin is my human name, but my name after I was changed became Liwanu.”

  “Oh,” Layla said. “I guess transforming would be a baptism of sorts.”

  He nodded. “All Weres have two names. The human name given to us by human parents and guardians and our Native name bestowed on us after our first transformation.”

  “So I have another name?”

  “Perhaps. You were not…indoctrinated like the rest of us.” He smiled at her. “And before you ask, I have no idea what it is or could be.”

  He hesitated and gave Layla a cryptic look. “But a Were’s true name contains power that could be wielded only by the owner of the name. Names have power. When you find your true name, you can also sometimes find your true nature and your true power. That’s why some of us are so much stronger than others.”

  He paused again and looked back at the door. “They are ready for us. It is time.”

  For the second time in less than an hour, Layla stood back in the Council’s trial room. It was even more cramped than before as those who were not able to make it earlier crammed in now. Members of the galley stood along the wall as she walked back in. Brett held her hand and gave it a squeeze, before he sat with the general populace and she was relieved that at least someone had the insight to reserve a seat for him.

  She and Martin approached the dais where Acaraho sat. She noted with a slight twinge that Kuruk was now standing across from her. Great. He was the prosecution.

  Acaraho banged the gavel. “Councilor Kuruk,” he ordered, “please read the charges against Ms. Layla Donovan.”

  Kuruk swept back his black robes as he approached, his stance menacing. His voice was loud as he began to speak. “Ms. Layla Donovan is charged with the unlawful and unauthorized killing of another Were. She was told beforehand about the penalty of killing another Were and did so anyway. According to Were law and tradition, any Were guilty of intentionally killing another must in turn be killed in the same manner. These are our laws.” He stepped back.

  Sweat broke out on her skin. She needed to relax. She had to control herself. An outburst here would most certainly result in her death.

  Acaraho banged his gavel. “Ms. Donovan, do you deny these charges?”

  Layla stepped forward. “I do.”

  He leaned forward in his seat. “Then by all means tell us your version of the events in question
.”

  She stepped up to the dais. “Um, your honor,” she started, ignoring the laughter from the galley. “I admit to fighting with Wattan, but not killing him.”

  Kuruk interrupted her. “Ms. Donovan, the story please, so that judgment can be passed.”

  Resisting the urge to glare at him, she nodded. “Martin and I…I mean Liwanu and I, went to the house that Suzette was using as a base. She was holding my friend Brett hostage and instructed me to bring my little cousin to her in exchange.”

  “And did you?” one of the Council members asked.

  “No, Mar—Liwanu and I took a dummy filled with explosives instead.” The Council member frowned, wrote on a piece of paper and passed it along to the others, who nodded in agreement. She took another deep breath and continued.

  “We were attacked by Suzette and in the midst of the fighting, another Were showed up and threatened her.”

  The Council members straightened at this news.

  “Do you know the name of this other Were who showed up at the home?” Kuruk asked with a smirk.

  Layla’s eyes slid to Martin. He shook his head so slightly she may have misinterpreted the move, but she remembered his warning about Kuruk.

  “Ms. Donovan? Do you know the name of the other Were?”

  She wondered why Kuruk was trying so hard to force her to name him. He wasn’t stupid. Perhaps this was his plan to discredit her. She would claim that he was there and he would have ten different Weres vouch for his whereabouts. Then all her credibility would be shot to hell. “No. I don’t know the other Were’s name.”

  Martin visibly relaxed.

  Kuruk’s lips tightened. “Are you certain? It took a while for you to answer the question.”

  Layla straightened. “I was replaying the scene in my head to see if anyone had said his name. No one did.”

  Acaraho motioned for her to continue her story.

  “While the other Were fought Liwanu, I fought Suzette in another room. I managed to deeply wound her and went to assist the others. While there, Wattan attacked me and I fought back.” She glanced up at Acaraho. “He was wounded, but I did not kill him.”

  Kuruk laughed loudly. “Really Ms. Donovan? We have about a dozen eyewitnesses who claim they saw you kill him.” He walked towards her.

  Layla shook her head adamantly. “I did not kill him.”

  “This wound, Ms. Donovan, where was it? You claimed to have wounded him, so where was the wound?”

  She sighed. “It was his throat. I used a blade and cut his throat.”

  “And yet you did not kill him?

  “He was alive and might have been able to heal.” Kuruk laughed loudly as he addressed the Council members.

  “She admits she slit his throat. She admits that the wound was hers. We know that he died from a throat slash and we have witnesses to corroborate her own story about her actions.” His voice grew louder. “Yet, she still insists that she did not kill him and now there is suddenly mention of a mysterious Were who she cannot name.”

  He whirled back to Layla. “Did this mysterious Were kill Wattan?” he sneered.

  Layla shook her head. Her composure was starting to become rattled, her wolf readying for a fight. She tried to suppress the beast and glared at Kuruk. It was all his fault. He was twisting her words and making her sound like a liar while she was trying to tell the truth. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Ah hah!” Kuruk faced Acaraho. “So, now the mysterious Were did not kill Wattan. He only showed up for a fight and left?”

  Layla squared her shoulders, finally tired of the games. “Actually, the mysterious Were ambushed us and when he started to lose the fight, ran away like a coward with his tail tucked between his legs because he knew he could not win.” She smiled, watching an angry tick start in Kuruk’s jaw as he looked back at her.

  He took a moment and composed himself before he faced the Council. “So once again we are faced with bits and pieces of the story. We still don’t know who killed Wattan. I do believe until I hear otherwise, it is only logical that Ms. Donovan here be made responsible for the death of an upstanding citizen.”

  Layla looked at Acaraho. “I did not kill Wattan.”

  Acaraho looked back at her with disinterest, his mind clearly made up about her guilt. “If you did not, Ms. Donovan, who did?”

  “I did.”

  A gasp stole through the crowd as Martin stood.

  “Liwanu,” Acaraho warned, “I know you have feelings for the young woman, but do not let it interfere with your good judgment.”

  Martin straightened and walked towards Kuruk and the dais. “When have I ever let emotions interfere with my job?” he asked coolly as he approached.

  “Why are you just admitting this now?” Kuruk snapped angrily.

  Martin looked at him with a layer of frost in his eyes. “Because she was on trial for murder. I wanted the Council to be certain that she did not kill him. Based on her story of what happened and the fight, it is obvious that Ms. Donovan fought back in self-defense. She slit his throat, that is true, but it was not a killing blow. That honor was mine.”

  Acaraho stared at Martin. “Liwanu. Kuruk I want to see you both in my office as soon as we are done here.” He banged the gavel against the wooden podium. “Ms. Donovan, you are free to leave.”

  The bones in her feet seemed to turn to mush as the Brett raced across the room and grabbed her to him. The Council members turned away to follow Acaraho and Kuruk glared at her as he rudely brushed past.

  Martin gave him a long look before he turned to Layla and Brett. “Go to the Council chambers we were just in and wait for me. Everything is fine now. I won’t be long.”

  *

  Layla looked up at the brick building. The bright sun contrasted with the chill of the wind as it blew through her hair and her light jacket. With her Were body running on high, she got colder even more quickly when in her human form. Right now, she was freezing and did not want to do anything but stay in her bed and sleep. Unfortunately, she had promised her aunt that she would go back school and, at least, get whatever assignments she needed to complete.

  Walking into the Academic Advising office, she quickly wrote her name on the waiting list and sighed as she realized there were about eight others ahead of her. It was going to be a long wait. She had an appointment to see the Director about simply finishing her courses online. Her childhood psychiatrist had given her a note to help with her case and a prescription for something to help with her anxiety and to help her sleep.

  She felt a bit guilty about exaggerating what she was feeling, but she wasn’t up to having to sit in a classroom and listen to a lecturer all the time. And the first time she had transformed had been in class. She didn’t trust that her classmates would be safe around her. She also didn’t want a pass. She still wanted to do her work, but she was so unfocused that she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle her midterms in the next two weeks; much less her finals. She definitely needed an extension.

  After about fifteen minutes, a stout, older, black lady with bright pink fingernails called her name. She walked over to the desk and sat down.

  “Layla Donovan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Enrollment status?”

  “Part-time student, undergrad program, Psychology.”

  The woman typed the information into the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard surprisingly quickly given the length of her nails.

  “Okay, Ms. Donovan,” she said, her Southern drawl pronounced. “Seems here you were involved in that nasty incident last month.” She tsked, “you doing okay, sweetie?”

  Layla shrugged. “As good as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she answered truthfully.

  The woman looked at her with sympathy and shook her head. “Some people are just crazy.” She leaned closer to Layla. “Don’t worry about this, sweetie; I am gonna make sure the Director get this immediately.” She stood up. “Now, you wait right here. I’ll be back.”

&nbs
p; Slumping down in the chair, Layla looked around, wary of all the people. The wide space was segmented into sections separated by cubicles. Students of all ethnic groups and ages were arranged at the different booths being helped. She wondered what the woman helping her would do if she told her that she was a werewolf and the reason she needed to talk to the director was because she wanted to take her classes online so she didn’t endanger the other students when the other werewolves who were trying to kill her eventually found her. Not like that would scare anyone, she smiled.

  The older woman motioned her to her, a smile on her face and a whispered “good luck” when Layla approached. She quickly moved back to her desk, leaving Layla outside the director’s door.

  Layla knocked and opened the door when she heard a quick “come in.” A small Hispanic man behind the desk stood to greet her.

  “Ms. Donovan?”

  She nodded and shook his hand.

  “So, I’m told you have some issues that you need to talk about?”

  “Yes sir.” Layla cleared her throat. “I wanted to know if it would be possible to finish the rest of my classes online.”

  The man frowned at her and typed something into his computer system. “You had work study and were assigned to the Admissions department?”

  Layla nodded again.

  He tapped a few keys. “You were also in the dorm where those two people were killed?”

  “Yes. One of them was my neighbor.” Layla squirmed in the chair, a bit uncomfortable at the direction the conversation seemed to be headed in.

  “And I also see you were arrested for theft.”

  “Um, I was framed. The charges were dropped and I was cleared.”

  “Yes, yes, I see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Ms. Donovan, I am afraid it’s too late to allow you to do the courses online. Right now, technically, you should not even be enrolled, as you no longer have work study, but we are overlooking this in light of what happened to you.”

  He twirled a pencil around in his hand. “Needless to say, we understand how terribly traumatized you must be, but unfortunately, the online courses and the traditional classroom courses are not in sync. The professors run them differently, so your study could be severely hindered.”