Legion

by Catrina Burgess

  Darla’s eyes narrowed, “I did what was best for everyone.”

  “Is that what your Uncle Franklin is going to think when he finds out?”

  There was a sharp intake of breath. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “No, your secret is still safe. Your uncle was more concerned with telling me how the trial is going to go—how fairly I’ll be treated.”

  She sneered at me. “You’ll finally be held accountable for all the harm you’ve done.”

  There was nothing I could say to change Darla’s mind about me. The hatred she felt for me now was shining brightly from her eyes.

  She suddenly looked uneasy, her gaze swinging slowly around the clearing again. My guards were still there, but they were far enough away that they couldn’t hear what we were saying.

  Darla took a deep breath, refocused her gaze on me, and smiled. “About the next ritual… I don’t think my brother should come to it.”

  Her words and sudden change in attitude surprised me. “Why not?”

  “During the last ritual, Luke almost broke the pentagram trying to get to you. He burned two death dealers.” She looked thoughtful. “They weren’t seriously injured, but my brother can’t control himself when it comes to you.” She walked over and touched the tree I was standing next to. “This next ritual is delicate. I can’t be worrying about what Luke might do. There’s too much at stake this time.”

  “If you don’t want him there, then you’ll have to tell him yourself. He’s currently not talking to me.”

  She looked pleased. “Having a lover’s quarrel?”

  It was my turn to get mad. “You knew what would happen when you brought him to the cabin.”

  She raised her hand and said. “Let’s just say I hoped. Dean seems like a great guy. You two would be great together.”

  “Go to hell.”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “We might all be going to hell if this doesn’t work.”

  “There has to be another way to banish the demon.”

  Darla shook her head. “We’ve scoured all the books. This is the only spell we’ve come up with that might work. That thing is not natural. It wasn’t born. It is an aberration.” When I didn’t say anything, she continued. “It was created by a demon.”

  How could I make her understand? “But now she is a walking, talking, breathing human being. There has to be another way.”

  “It’s the only way to make sure the demon can’t come back into our world.” Her eyes narrowed. “You brought the demon forth. You released the evil thing. This is our one shot at sending the creature back to hell.”

  I looked back toward Jamie.

  Darla’s gaze followed mine. “Colina, it has to die.” She said it in such a cold and emotionless voice.

  It didn’t bother her to sacrifice the child. She only thought of Jamie as a thing—an evil thing that had to be gotten rid of. I realized there was no way I was going to get her to change her mind. “Are the elders really okay with us doing this?”

  She looked uneasy again. “When I explain what’s at stake, they’ll agree. It has to be done.” She said those last words with such conviction.

  What would the elders think when she finally confessed all she had been up to?

  * * *

  I went back to my tent and spent the rest of the morning resting.

  Darla came back a few hours later, a malicious gleam in her eyes that didn’t bode well. Whatever she had come to tell me, I was sure I wouldn’t like it.

  “It’s time,” was all she said, but her eyes were cold and vindictive.

  “Time for what?” I tried to deny her the pleasure of showing any concern, but I wasn’t sure of my success.

  “Uncle Franklin called for the hearing since it looks like you’ll live and Luke is back. It starts at noon—now.”

  I shrugged, rising to my feet and calmly walking out of the tent. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw her looking after me in surprise, confused and annoyed by my reaction and then hustling to catch up. I felt stronger, but a disturbing weakness made my legs feel like Jell-O as I walked.

  Darla caught up to me. “In a rush to meet the firing squad, are we? That’s fine with me.” She moved in front of me and led me to the food tent, the largest space in the camp.

  It was crowded, but all noise ceased as soon as I walked into the tent. The tables were filled with death dealers; they looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. I felt exposed and nervous.

  Darla gave me a slow smile and then left me standing in the uncomfortable quiet, moving away from me and around to the edge of the space.

  The time had come. The trial was happening. At one end, space had been cleared to make room for an impromptu courtroom. Two tables sat facing a third that had been placed against the wall of the tent. All three were empty. Apparently I would sit at one of the tables, facing the judge with my back to the audience. The thought made the skin between my shoulder blades itch, as if I could already feel the impending knife in my back.

  My eyes swung around to the faces in the crowd. Hatred glared back at me. And then I saw him: Dean. He was standing a few feet away. He raised his hand in greeting. I smiled tightly at him, happy to see at least one friendly face in the crowd.

  He made his way over to me, standing close enough that our shoulders were touching. I took a deep breath. I was no longer standing alone against the assembled crowd. I felt myself relax just a tiny bit.

  Franklin walked into the tent and stood looking at the crowd. He still wore an old suit, but it was a somber gray this time. It looked very out of place in the informal camp; he looked unexpectedly official.

  At the sight of him, my pulse quickened. I was about to be put on trial. The death dealers were finally getting their day of reckoning. Where was Luke? I had not seen him since he stormed off in anger.

  Uncle Franklin moved toward the table that sat in the position of honor and then stood motionless behind it. Two elders stepped out from the crowd. An ancient-looking woman in a black dress walked toward us. Her dress seemed two sizes too large. She was tiny and shrunken, but her eyes looked sharp and focused. The same could not be said for the other elder, a heavy old man who seemed to struggle to make the short walk to the table, borne down by a huge gut and the weakness of old age. He slumped into one of the chairs with relief, the woman took a chair, and Franklin remained standing.

  Franklin cleared his throat and then raised his voice until it could be heard over the murmuring of the crowd. “Let’s get started.” He raised a hand and the crowd became silent. “While this is not a court of law, this proceeding carries the full authority of the council. Any guild member may call for a hearing of their grievance before a guild tribunal. They may bring charges against any other member of the guild, but they must do so in front of the guild and their accused. All findings of this tribunal are final. If the accused is found guilty and refuses to accept the findings of the tribunal, they will be turned over to the civilian authorities for prosecution of their crimes.”

  My mind raced, trying to decide whether to be reassured by his words. I could refuse to accept their findings? A flash of joy raced through me, quickly washed away by reason. They would turn me over to civilian authorities. Those same civilian authorities did nothing while the Redeemers murdered every death dealer they could find. Would I even get a trial in a non-mage court, or would I get killed for resisting arrest on the way to jail?

  Dean reached out and took my hand. He gave it a squeeze.

  “Colina Campbell, please advance to the tribunal to hear the charges and face your accuser.” Franklin gestured toward one of the tables that sat facing him.

  I looked over at Dean. For one brief moment I wondered what would happen if I tried to leave. I had no doubt that they would try and stop me. My choices became very simple: be dragged to the table or fight. The death dealers were scared of my magic, but they also outnumbered me. There were at least one hundred death dealers in camp.

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nbsp; I gave Dean’s hand a squeeze and then pulled mine from his grasp. I straightened my shoulders and walked slowly forward until I stood behind one of the empty tables, facing Uncle Franklin.

  Once Franklin saw I was following his command, he turned and scanned the crowd. He focused on his niece. There was no welcoming smile as he looked at her. Instead he addressed her in very formal language. “Darla Cross, step forward and state your charges.”

  Darla strode forward, her head high and her expression determined. A few claps and shouts followed her movements from the crowd, and then a louder ragged cheer from a group of teenagers at the back of the tent.

  Franklin’s hand came down on the table with a loud smack, making the fat old man who sat next to him jump. When silence fell again, he addressed the crowd in a firm voice. “This is an official hearing of a guild tribunal. No one may speak unless recognized. If I hear anymore outbursts, we will expel the audience and continue the hearing behind closed doors!” He glared at the crowd until he was sure that they understood him and then sat down. He turned his attention to Darla.

  During the pause, Dean and Freddy had made their way forward until they stood quietly behind me. I had at least two supporters in camp. Where was Luke? I knew he was mad, but I never imagined he would forsake me, not now, not when I needed him to stand by my side more than ever.

  Darla turned to face me, and I tried not to wither under the force of her anger. I squared my shoulders and focused on keeping my expression calm. An excited murmur rose in the crowd in anticipation of her words.

  “Colina Campbell, I accuse you of using forbidden magic—namely, raising zombies and a demon.” The accusation echoed in a suddenly silent tent. The horror of her words seemed to stun the crowd, though everyone must have known what she would say. What I’d done was not a secret.

  After a moment, the audience seemed to wake up, and an angry chorus rose to fill the space. Franklin had told them to be quiet, but they were too full of pent-up anger to listen.

  All I could think was, it could have been worse. She could have accused me of a huge host of crimes. I'd forced Luke’s spirit into Dean. Worse, I'd murdered in the name of revenge. But Darla had not been present for most of the events that had happened in the last six months. I had only known Darla for a few days before circumstance and chaos took us down different paths. She only knew what happened since then from what Luke told her. Had he confided all my terrible deeds to his sister? Or had he kept my secrets?

  I tried to ignore the angry words that occasionally rose above the general vindictive hum.

  “Anyone have any marshmallows? I bet the little witch will make a great bonfire!”

  Another woman’s voice close behind me was far more disturbing: “When she dies, will I stop hearing my dead baby scream in my dreams?”

  I flinched, horrified. When I raised the dead, raised a demon, I put a target on every death dealer. Even now, death dealers were being hunted and killed because of my actions. I was filled with such a terrible sadness and shame. Such despair. A part of me wanted to turn and shout back at my accusers. I wanted to tell the woman that that vengeance would not take away her pain; that instead it would only add new regrets to her child’s memory, but I didn’t. I doubted she would welcome my words.

  Revenge had made me do things I couldn’t take back. True, I had raised a demon and the dead, but they were pure accidents. I had killed, but my victims were people who held murder in their hearts. It was true—my actions had brought trouble down on the death dealers, but I wasn’t the one hunting them. I wasn’t hurting them. The Redeemers, the demon and his cohorts, like Gage, and the scared, violent non-mage populace were the ones to blame.

  I didn’t murder this woman’s baby.

  Tears were running down my cheeks. I wiped them away and, through blurry eyes, looked into Darla’s face. Darla wanted me to pay. She blamed me for everything that happened. I was the one who killed her brother. The one wh0 brought hatred and fear to her family’s doorstep.

  Franklin raised his hands again. Eventually, the crowd went quiet. “Brothers and sisters, this is a difficult subject for all of us. No one here is untouched by the events of the last few months. Our fallen family deserves justice and more than that, they deserve the truth. The only way to get to the truth is to ask our questions and hear the answers with an open mind.” He paused, gazing thoughtfully around at the angry faces.

  He seemed so confident, so calm in the sea of anger. I found myself wanting to follow him, to trust him. I slowly turned to scan the audience. Franklin had their full attention. Many heads nodded, and even the angriest faces seemed unwilling to argue with him. He had a strength, a magnetism that they all trusted.

  I was filled with grief for what Luke lost. This man was the promise of what Luke could have become, the future my rash actions had stolen from him.

  Franklin returned to his seat and turned to face Darla again. “Miss Cross, what evidence do you have to support your accusations?”

  That’s when I saw him: Luke. He was edging through the crowd. When he saw me he stopped. The look on his face was not one I could read. Was he still angry? Was he on their side now? Did he still love me? And then he began to make his way toward me.

  Darla saw him. For the first time I saw an expression of doubt fill her eyes.

  Luke looked at his sister and then back toward me. He started to move.

  I was honestly surprised and relieved when he stopped beside me. His hand came to rest on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  I felt foolish for ever doubting that he would show up. I reached up and covered his hand with mine. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Darla studied her brother. “There is eyewitness testimony.”

  Luke kept his eyes fixed on Franklin. If Darla was counting on her brother’s testimony for her vengeance, it didn’t look like he would make it easy. Luke was choosing sides, and once again he was clearly on mine.

  Darla looked at Franklin. “I will personally testify to what I have seen. I also ask the tribunal to call on Luke Cross, Dean Hall, and Fredrick Martin to bear witness to Colina Campbell’s crimes.” I knew neither Luke, Dean, nor Freddy would testify against me willingly. However, I also knew that if they refused to talk, the guild members might never forgive them for standing by me.

  Franklin nodded formally. “Miss Cross, the board will now hear your claims.”

  The two other elders seemed to relax slightly, settling into their chairs for the long haul. Franklin gestured for Darla to move and sit at one of the tables facing him, and then he turned and nodded at me. He turned back to Darla, his face softening, and for the first time it really hit me—she was his niece. All of his loyalty was with her. He might say he was going to be impartial, but could he really be? I killed his nephew. Luke was in a stranger’s body because of me.

  Franklin spoke to her in a reassuring tone, “Darla, why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  Darla’s icy expression didn’t thaw, but she gave him a small smile before she started talking. “Colina came into our shop while you were away on the retreat. She said that she wanted to learn the Death Arts. Luke told her no.” Darla paused for a moment, staring off into space as she remembered that night.

  I tried to remember it as well—the night that I had first met Luke and his sister. So much had happened. So many terrible things. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I wasn’t the same girl that walked through that magic shop door. The darkness changed me. The meek, gentle healer who started down this dark path was no more. In her place was someone full of blackness. Someone with dark powers. Someone who could control the dead.

  I looked over at Darla. She wasn’t the same, either. When I met her, she was an innocent girl of fifteen with long, blond hair and a penchant for Root beer-scented incense; a sweet young girl whose heart was now full of vengeance. How much of her change was due to going through the three rituals? How much of it was because of the things I had done? The loss of her brother?


  I remember all too clearly how my heart had pounded and my blood had boiled with the need for revenge when my family had been murdered.

  The silence seemed to stretch on forever, until Franklin gave her a gentle nudge. “Did Luke agree?”

  Darla’s eyes focused, startled, and continued in a rush. “Not then. When he told her to leave, she faked some kind of fainting fit so we wouldn’t kick her out.”

  I heard Luke begin to protest, but Franklin interrupted him. “Do you have proof that Colina faked fainting?”

  “No,” Darla grudgingly admitted.

  “I would caution you to stick to the facts. “

  “Fine. Colina appeared to faint, and we felt sorry for her. We didn’t want to kick her out on the street. We let her stay until she was strong enough to leave, and we haven’t been able to get rid of her since. And that’s a fact. The people she was running from followed her. They attacked us. I was captured.” The words I was captured were said with very little emotion.

  I remembered the scared girl tied up in the basement, her hair chopped off.

  Darla seemed to mentally shake herself. “I was held captive until Luke and Freddy rescued me.” A shadow crossed her young face. When she turned to look at me, she looked much older than her years. “We were out, free and clear, when Colina insisted on going back into the hotel where I was kept. We followed her back in.”

  The portly old tribunal member sat forward to ask, “Did she say why she needed to go back in?”

  “She said she had to rescue the rest of the hostages, but that was just an excuse. She didn’t even try to free them. She only wanted revenge for the death of her family, and because of her, my brother died.”

  Franklin’s expression was stern. “What happened when you returned to the hotel?”

  “She killed a guard with an axe and then raised him as a zombie and set him loose on the crowd.”

  The audience grumbled darkly, quieting when Franklin glared at them. “You saw her raise the zombie?”

  “I know she stuck an axe in the guard’s head, and when he collapsed she touched the dead body. The body stood up and pulled the axe from its own head and went on a killing spree. It killed Macaven’s men.”