“Had you known Samantha Larsen well?” Mr. Bricker asked.
“No. We were never friends.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“At Congressman Larsen’s evening party the same weekend she disappeared.”
“And how did she seem?”
Something was tearing at my back. Almost like a knife being dragged down my skin. But just enough to scratch me and not tear the skin wide open. I struggled to sit still.
‘What in the world is happening?’
I must have looked like I was going to throw up. My body wanted to move, to fidget away from whoever was scratching at my back, but I had to sit still. Even as something continued to tear scratches all over my backside. I couldn’t hear the fabric of my dress tearing. But it was there. Under the material. Trying to get a reaction out of me. I struggled not to let my mouth wide open to scream.
“She… she seemed fine.”
He kept asking me questions about Samantha. About Emily. About Officer Parker and all that I saw over that wretched week. All according to plan. All trying to have me appear like a model citizen, a grieving widow trying to get by on a few extra dollars. Someone caught up in a whirlwind of unwanted and undeserved attention. Or at least that was the impression Mr. Bricker wanted to give to the jury. The Congressman did nothing wrong. He was desperately trying to find his missing daughter. He even mildly harassed the police station when he didn’t think they were looking hard enough. And most of all, I never saw anything suspicious in nature at the Congressman’s evening party. Other than…you know…the countless vampires walking around. But not even the Congressman knew they were there. He was lured into forgetting.
Something that I can only describe as a sharp nail with a burning hot tip started trailing down my spine as Mr. Bricker finished his questioning and the prosecutor got up from his chair. Mr. Bricker might have prepped me through countless emails and our meeting this morning on what to say, what to do, and how to act, but he couldn’t protect me from whatever was happening in the supernatural world. The witchling world. And as it appeared, neither could I.
My magic was begging to be let out. I managed to keep it at bay for longer than I thought possible. My resistance to it was weakening as the scratching over my skin continued. And the only one in the entire courtroom who could sense my discomfort was Tobias. His eyes were drilling into me, begging to know what was wrong but unable to do anything to stop it.
“Miss Ashwood,” Mr. Cohen walked up to me sitting on the stand and placed one hand in his pocket, ready to find a single weakness in me that he could expose to everyone. As though my life wasn’t unstable enough as it was. “How much do you charge for your services as a psychic?” he said with his hands in the air, curling his fingers when he said the word psychic as though it was a dirty word. Something to be mocked and not taken seriously.
“I don’t call myself a psychic per se,” I said. “Others do but I just give readings.”
“Again, how much do you charge, Miss. Ashwood?”
I was tempted to groan but I stopped myself. “Generally $20 for a reading. When I work at the county fair the organizers take a little so I have to charge $25. Other times I receive donations.”
He took out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the banister in front of the witness stand before me. “So if I paid you, you could tell me just about anything. Even if that involves interfering in confidential murder cases?”
I shook my head, doing my best not to squint my eyes as the scratching started going down the back of my arms. My eyes wanted to tear. I wanted to scream. I had to do everything I could to stop my magic from bursting out of my hands. And it was only going to get worse.
Someone was doing this to me. But who would have this kind of power? Not a kruxa. It would have to be someone else. Something else. Another witchling? Why would they risk exposing themselves like this? Or exposing me like this? It was a danger to all witchlings if I was revealed.
“You failed me,” a voice whispered in my ear. “You failed.”
Emily.
I squirmed to try stopping the discomfort of my skin being torn by nails scratching all the way down to my elbow. I brought my arms in closer but that did nothing to help me. It only made me look nervous before everyone. Which was the exact opposite of what Mr. Bricker wanted. And what I wanted.
“Officer Parker didn’t pay me,” I said defensively. “He asked for my help and I gave it to him.”
“And why did he think you capable of helping with murder cases?” He sneered at me. “What makes you uniquely qualified over a professional criminal consultant or special investigator?”
“Nothing,” I stated. “I just… I try to help people when I can. My grandmother told me I have a gift and not to fear it. I can sense things and I can help people make difficult life choices. Or in this case, I could try to help Officer Parker get more insight into his case when Samantha disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you charge Officer Andrew Parker like you did your other clients, Miss Ashwood? Can you make a prediction for my future? Or see into my past? I paid you. Can you deliver?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well, why not? Wouldn’t you need to have command over your skills to deliver when Officer Parker wanted you to?”
I hesitated before answering, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out where he was going with this.
“Or do I need to pay you more, Miss Ashwood?” He placed another twenty dollar bill on the banister and backed away with his arms open wide. “Give me a prediction.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said. “I would have to touch your hands, build a connection, have my cards with me, or an item belonging to the person. I can’t just force it.”
“Oh, but you knew. You knew exactly where Samantha Larsen’s body was. You knew that Emily Larsen was in trouble when she tried to murder her father. You knew the Congressman’s relationship with his daughter was full of tension. And you knew that you shared a similar feature with Samantha Larsen and the other victims.”
Oh lord. He was talking about the brand. The one thing that tied me to the other girls. That tied me to the case. That made me look like I was involved on some level.
I glanced over at Tobias. He met my eyes with equal fervor. And no remorse for refusing to remove the stupid brand from my side.
“Your involvement with the Larsen family is much deeper than you’d like to admit, Miss Ashwood,” he said. “As is your connection to the other murders.”
“Objection,” Mr. Bricker shouted as he stood up. “Miss Ashwood isn’t on trial here.”
“Overruled,” the judge said as he turned his attention directly to me. “If you know more than what you’ve told the court here today and you’re keeping it a secret, you will only be doing harm to yourself.”
‘Not really, given that if you knew things I know you’d probably be killed.’
“I said everything I know, your honor. I only met the Congressman once. I was friends with Emily and I didn’t know Samantha well at all. I was just trying to help out Officer Parker.”
The scratching got deeper, digging into my back just under my shoulder blades.
There was no stopping it. My magic was trying to pierce through my skin and into my palms. I tucked my hands between my legs, trying not to appear too sheepish. I was failing.
When I looked back at Mr. Cohen, his face had changed. His eyes were slanted and his chin grew longer. His teeth were sharp and his eyes turned black. Even his skin was turning gray. He was nothing short of a demonic creature that might grab me at any moment.
I shook my head. I wanted to rub my eyes to get the sight in front of me to go away but that would require moving my hands. Exposing myself. Exposing my magic.
‘This isn’t real. It’s an illusion of some kind. It’s not real. It’s not real!’
“How did you see the Congressman react when his daughter was pulled out of the water th
at day, Miss Ashwood?” Mr. Cohen’s voice was vibrating in my ears. His voice was deeper. And definitely not his own. The closer he got to me, the more demonic he started to look. It was difficult to disguise my disgust but I managed it. I tried sitting up straighter. But that only led to the scratches on my back feeling even worse. The material of my dress rubbed up against them causing me to wince. And I was sure Mr. Cohen noticed. For all I knew, everyone in the courtroom noticed.
“He was horrified. He fell to the ground.”
“Did your psychic intuition find his grief genuine, Miss Ashwood? Or do I need to give you more money for you to tell me that?”
“Objection, your honor!” Mr. Bricker stood up, not looking at all pleased with how I was handling the stress.
“How about when you found Emily Larsen in her living room trying to set her father on fire after tying him up? Was her grief genuine? Let me ask you, Miss. Ashwood. What would drive a young woman to attempt murdering her own father? Could it be that she thought he did something horrible? That he did the unthinkable?”
“I…I…” No words came out. Emily was on vixra blood. She was hallucinating. She was driven mad. He was taking everything out of context. But I couldn’t say the truth. I couldn’t dishonor Emily’s memory by saying she was on drugs or something just to appease the court. I couldn’t slander her character. It was Brian. He did this! He wielded Emily’s mind into a weapon!
“Mr. Cohen, you’re out of line,” said the judge.
Mr. Cohen backed up. And thank god because I swear I could smell an odor coming from the putrid ooze dripping from his mouth. I knew it wasn’t real. It was an illusion. And further proof to me that I was right. I was being haunted.
“What did Emily say to her father before the paramedics and police arrived?” Mr. Cohen snarled at me. I suddenly had a new found respect for little kids who were scared of monsters under their bed at night. Mr. Cohen’s appearance was petrifying. And if I didn’t know that it wasn’t real, I would have already screamed and run out of the courthouse as any normal human would. But I wasn’t human. Not entirely. I knew an illusion from reality. Most days.
“She was crying a lot, but she didn’t say much. Only that I couldn’t help her anymore.”
“Perhaps she was displeased with your lack of intuition to save her sister before her untimely death,” he sneered.
“Objection!” Mr. Bricker hollered as he stood from his chair with an expression that told me he couldn’t believe the judge was allowing this freak show to continue.
“No further questions, your honor,” said Mr. Cohen.
Once Mr. Cohen’s back was turned away from me and he was seated in his chair, his face instantly went back to normal. It happened so fast that I had to blink a few times to make sure.
“You may step down,” said the judge.
I wasn’t sure what just happened. I wasn’t sure I could even get up without revealing that my hands were glowing. I folded my arms and slowly stood up, feeling the penetrating glare of the jury staring at me. Believing that I was a hack. Believing that I was leaving out critical details. Believing the lies the media had already said about me. And believing the Congressman was a monster who deliberately harmed his daughters.
As my footsteps echoed in the courtroom and I went to sit down next to Tobias, I had the distinct feeling that Dilton would never truly feel like my home again. Not a single neighbor would wave at me as they drove by. Not a single pair of eyes would resist the temptation to stare at me as I shopped for groceries. Not a single mouth would feel a pang of guilt as gossip seeped from their lips. And my clients? They were likely gone too.
I turned to Tobias, only to veer toward the door and exit the courtroom. As soon as I was out in the hall where no one inside could see me, I ran as fast as I could.
Chapter 7
The bathroom was empty, thank god. I locked the door and started pulling my dress away from my shoulders and down my waist. When I turned my head to look back in the mirror, I was horrified by what I saw. My back was torn to bits with scratches. They scaled from my waist to my shoulders and down my arms just to where the sleeves of my dress ended. And yet not a single thread of the fabric was out of place. The material wasn’t torn. Just my skin.
“I had hoped when I finally saw you in this manner it would be in a more romantic setting.”
I just about jumped out of my skin at the sound of Tobias’s voice. I barely even managed to cover my chest with my glowing hands. He must have known exactly where I was headed because he beat me inside the bathroom and was standing in the corner. I was in such a panic that I didn’t even notice him.
I yanked my dress back up my arms and covered the scratches as fast as I could.
“Let me see,” he said.
“No chance in hell,” I snapped.
“Harper, let me see,” he repeated. He didn’t want to see my bare skin to check me out. Well, okay, I have no doubt that he did. But he was referring to the damage that was done.
I turned around to face away from him and pulled my hair away. He pulled the sleeves of the dress down to reveal my scratched up back and arms.
I flinched as his cool fingers trailed down my skin and examined what happened. Watching him in the mirror, I could see his brows furrow at the sight of my skin.
He reached for the sleeves of the dress and pulled them back up, covering me before I faced him again. Although, he made it clear that he thoroughly enjoyed the view.
I wasn’t amused. I was about to break. I hadn’t fully realized until that moment that Dilton was now a foreign town to me. A place where I wouldn’t be welcome. A place where I would be ostracized. A place I couldn’t call home. Maybe I was naive for not realizing it any sooner, but reality wasn’t a realm that witchlings were well-acquainted with. Everything I was, the very magic in my blood, wasn’t based on any human idea of reality.
I couldn’t look up at Tobias. I let my eyes settle on the floor. He placed a finger once again under my chin and forced my watering eyes to meet his. Even through my blurred vision, I could see exactly what other women saw in him. There was something majestic about him. A quality long lost in this day and age. A sense of confidence and gallantry that wasn’t of this time. Let alone of the men I was used to being around. A confidence that he was right where he needed to be and in the presence of the one person he wanted. And he was certain he would have me. He wanted me to know it.
“Don’t do that,” he commanded. He wasn’t talking to me as some sort of babysitter now. He was speaking to me as the coven master of the Catach-Brayin. The tone of his voice instantly forced me to bury my emotions deep inside the hollow confines of my chest. “Don’t let it defeat you. Let it become something else.”
“Like what?” I asked innocently.
“Anger.”
“Why anger?”
“Because I’m going to need you angry in order to do what I want.”
I shuddered at the thought.
“Bury it. And let it seethe inside you,” he demanded.
I did what he said. As much as I hated it, I did what he wanted of me. I took the stress and the fear I felt on that stand and pushed it back inside, allowing it to become something else. Something I was always told wasn’t becoming of southern young ladies. Rage. Rage for Brian. Rage for the town of Dilton for believing the lies spread about me. Rage at the media for spreading them. Rage for the vixra who were keeping my sister tucked away and potentially holding her hostage.
“That’s a good girl,” he cooed me, letting go of my chin and taking a moment to admire me.
When I looked at my hands the golden glow was gone. I was calm. Maybe even downright serene.
“Looks like those tea leaves kruxa have used in the past weren’t quite enough,” he said.
“What?”
He snickered. “I put a few in your coffee this morning. A special leaf that grows in Scotland. Kruxa have put it in their tea to calm their magic over the centuries.”
‘T
ea leaves? Like the tea leaves Nathaniel gave me the first day we met?’
“You drugged me?” I gasped.
“That’s a bit of an overreaction. I helped you. You were nervous about taking the stand and there was no time to teach you how to manipulate your emotions to control your magic. I would have taught you sooner but you’ve resisted my presence let alone my help.”
“Do you want me equally angry at you?” I asked. “Because I can do that.” I took a step back away from him and he let me.
“No,” he responded. “I want you to be able to fight off a croxa.”
Oh god. He knew exactly what was going on. Maybe even better than I did. Gran only knew so much when she tried explaining what a croxa was to me, whereas Tobias had centuries of knowledge. And good enough instincts to know exactly what was going on while I was on the stand.
“When humans die with vixra blood in their system, it can have dire consequences,” he explained. “Humans call them ghosts. Witchlings know better.”
‘Not this one apparently.’
“No,” I said. “Emily…she…she helped me. She saved me from Brian when he was using Madison to attack me.”
“Perhaps that’s so. But her spirit didn’t settle. Probably because it wasn’t Brian who got Emily killed. Her spirit saved your life so you could kill whoever did this to her.”
Now I was really confused. He had hinted that Brian may not have acted alone but I saw him give Emily the vixra blood in my vision. He was definitely the one who killed her. Unless whoever lured Brian told him to give it to her.
The door shook as someone tried to get into the bathroom with a very irritated knock.
“Hey, others gotta go too you know,” said a woman from the other side of the door.
“Just a second,” I shouted back at her.
The shadow under the door from the woman’s silhouette disappeared and I heard her footsteps going down the hall.
“Where did she go?” I asked.
Witchling Wars Page 40