“For theft?” Alec asked, almost aghast.
“Aye, it was customary for the city we lived in. Helped keep the rich richer and the poor from stealing, or so the theory goes.” Not that it stopped Xun from trying.
“That’s rather…” He trailed off, not wanting to speak the truth.
“Barbaric?” I asked. I’d been around Westerners long enough to know the way they thought.
“Yeah,” he said.
I dipped my head back into the murky water, letting out a raspy laugh. “And this world isn’t?” I asked, challenging the sentiment with one of my own. He quieted. He’d fallen so silent I almost thought he’d gone. There was no way he would leave the door ajar and walk away, though. However kind a servant, he was still the Fortescues’ errand boy.
“It’s different…” he said, but his voice had lost all conviction. He didn’t believe that any more than I did.
“Tell Jayma that,” I snapped.
He sighed heavily, and I glared into the now-tepid water. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said. Supernaturals had ruled with such an iron fist that even half-bloods like himself bought into their self-imposed dictatorship.
“I know,” I said softly. There was nothing to say but the truth. He hadn’t meant it that way, just like he didn’t think I should die. Did that mean he would stand up against them, though? Unlikely.
“What happened after that?” he asked, changing the subject back to my tale.
“I went to him and sent to the monastery for aid, but no healer came. No one in the market stopped, and after twelve hours of bleeding, he died. I watched the light leave his eyes as we sat under the starry sky one last time.” Tears wet my cheeks.
Jayma is with him now. They will guide each other.
“No one came? But why?”
“Would you, for a lowly beggar? For a thief?” I tried not to be accusing in my questioning, but his silence said more than my words. “Well, you have your answer then. No matter where I go, or who I’m with, I find that prejudice kills more than any blade. Humans use skin colour and money to draw boundaries, and we say they’re fools—but I’ve never met a species of beings that didn’t use some daft class system. At the end of the day, we all bleed and feel pain. That should be enough.” When I trailed off, the silence was deafening. The quiet had once been a friend to me, but now all I heard in it were the cries of the dead.
“It should be,” he whispered.
Fire filled my chest despite the cool water. The dragon had given me many gifts, but healing wasn’t one of them. I could mimic anything I saw, walk in the realm some people called purgatory, and open portals to those beyond. I could see auras and read people’s energy, and even had limited sight, for what it was worth. I’d grown to project my thoughts and my conscience, but despite all the things I could do, I hadn’t been able to save Xun. It was the last step in my upbringing—the only thing standing between me and the final piece of my dragon tattoo. Effectively making me a master who could’ve become an elder one day. I would’ve been the same age my mother was when she finished, because it was the only ability I had yet to conquer: the gift to save someone from death, should the dragon wish it. Not that the elders at that blasted temple would approve of using it.
It is not our choice to decide who lives and dies, Johanna, they would say.
Then why have the power in the first place? I always responded, but never got an answer.
“I understand now why you left the East. Not from a broken heart, but in search of humanity. It’s a pity this is all you found,” he said.
“It would seem so,” I said bitterly, stepping out of the water and drying myself on the rough towel Alec had left.
“You’re here for a crime you didn’t commit.” The darkness of his tone matched his aura. We all have darkness in us to a certain degree, but Alec’s was different. His was a righteous anger that burned at him from within, lighting his aura up in black and gold. I fastened my shirt, watching his aura dance through the crack in the door.
“I am, but many things happened between leaving the East and being brought here. Xun’s death was just the beginning,” I said, dancing around what I really meant. Xun’s death had been the wake-up call I’d needed, although I wished it hadn’t happened that way. As a child, I was called to the East, but as I grew, I knew my journey wouldn’t be an easy one. It wouldn’t be painless, but then none of the best things in life are.
“What did you do after he died?” Alec asked, clearly eager to hear more.
I pushed the damp towel around the floor with my foot to dry the footprints I’d left as I recounted leaving the East. “I burned Xun’s body at dawn, right there in the square, after wrapping it in the richest fabrics I could find. He was my only friend and family in that land, and then he was gone…so I did what any self-respecting young woman would do—I hijacked a camel from the traders and went West.” I blotted at the tears in my eyes, putting on the bravest voice I could muster.
“West? Back to your home?” he asked, clearly confused by such an idea.
“Well…not quite, and it didn’t go too smoothly. My home was gone, and I was angry at the world. I came North, through Russia into Poland and then Germany before I settled in London.” I laughed quietly to myself at the memories of my journey North. There were hardships, most certainly, but there were also moments of joy. The first time I’d mistaken a brothel for a hotel came to mind. The kind women took me in nonetheless, fascinated by my wild brown hair and exotic features; they insisted I stay longer so they could dress me up and coddle me. Then there was the incident with the Sirens in the Black Sea.
“Can I come in?” he asked, just as I was settling back on the cold metal bench.
“Aye, I’m done,” I called.
The white lightbulb flickered once as he took a seat next to me. Two half-breeds. One enslaved by a prison of the mind, the other a cell of silence. The momentary peace faded to grief over the loss of Xun that intensified the emptiness in my chest. I didn’t feel anger over his death any more, only crushing sorrow.
“So the people who took you in, they were the People of the East?” he asked, purposefully avoiding my tear-glazed eyes.
“East, West, does it really matter? What they did was wrong. He shouldn’t have died, and I shouldn’t be in this cell, but here we are,” I snapped, causing him to flinch.
I should’ve been more thankful for his kindness, but the memory of Xun, combined with the still-raw pain of losing Jayma, was too much to bear. Meeting his eyes, I saw more than understanding. I saw empathy. He agreed that the ways of this world were wrong. Xun shouldn’t have died for putting food on the table for children barely younger than himself.
But did that mean he agreed that how we were treated was also wrong? Was he more like us, like me, than he would dare admit? He wouldn’t voice it. His life depended on his loyalty to them. His signasti’s life. However far apart they were being kept, their souls were still bound.
We remained sitting quietly for several long minutes before he silently left the room, sending the two guards to remove the bath of filthy, brown water. They glared at me with fearful eyes, forever oblivious of their own part in building a dynasty of blood and brimstone.
Chapter 8
Alec being sent to escort me wasn’t a good sign. Anastasia’d had him visiting me, fishing for information, for over a week. He never said it, but I knew. Just like I knew he dreaded what he would report. This time was different, though. That she’d sent him instead of some faceless guard meant she was trying to break me. Make me think the world despised me as she did, even as I looked out over it with a noose around my neck.
He didn’t say anything when he entered my cell, and the silence spoke volumes. His shoulders squared, he stood by the door and tipped his head to the side, motioning for me to leave the room. I obeyed his order, meeting his steely gaze as I passed into the corridor. The two guards led the way out of the bowels of the Fortescue mansion. Alec followed silently be
hind, the sound of his footsteps urging me on. Up to the chamber to hear my fate.
The tension in the room was palpable, the members of the rebellion looking away as I entered. I paid them no attention, fixing my gaze on the Head of Council at the centre of the room. On the two murderers who’d sealed my fate. I followed the guards to my now-familiar, creaking chair and allowed my gaze to shift to Alec as he stood before me. After nodding to each of the guards, he met my eyes briefly. The tiniest flicker of sadness shadowed his features, before he turned and strode to Anastasia’s side. He wasn’t just some errand boy, I realised as I watched their exchange. No, I’d drastically mischaracterised him, assuming she thought herself above a half-breed right hand. He knelt respectfully, kissing her hand chastely with his eyes downcast. She sneered down at him then looked at me, eyes shining at my contemptuous glare.
Aldric gave a curt nod to the Council, taking his seat first before they followed suit. This was formal even by their standards.
They’ve come to a verdict.
The sound of their movements was loud in my ears. Anastasia was smiling. How many had fought for me? How many had been cowed?
“Johanna Kozak.” Aldric Fortescue’s voice thundered into the unsettling quiet of the room. “Do you have anything to add before we conclude your trial?” He cocked his head, questioning.
I raised my chin and said in a clear, ringing voice, “I did not murder Jayma Balewa. The true killer stands on your left, Council Member. Look at your granddaughter’s smug face as you send another half-blood to their grave. You know I did not commit this crime. Every Council Member and servant in here knows.” The crowd grew more rapt and uneasy as I continued speaking. It was only a matter of time before they silenced me.
“Your influence within this Council chamber has forced the decisions taken by these people, and it is for them I accept my fate. I’ve fought for my freedom, and lost. There are those who will remember me, though, just like they’ll remember Jayma—and by the dragon, your faces will fuel their hatred until they see this mansion burn.” My voice had risen several octaves, becoming shrill as I spat out my defiant speech.
“You think you can just erase me and be done. What you don’t see, what Supernaturals never see, is that I am everywhere. We are everywhere. We are your servants. We are your bakers. We are the family next door, and your children’s caretaker when you are away making laws to keep us down. I may have lost my own freedom, but I am still fighting for theirs, and word of my death will spur them to fight too. They will come for you, Council Member, mark my words. They will come with the same hatred you have shown them and burn every bloody mention of you to the ground in the name of Jayma Balewa and Johanna Kozak. This is not the end. If I am to die, it will not be in vain. The dragon and the three-faced goddess have ensured it.”
Alec flinched as Aldric motioned for the guards, and they forced me down into my seat. The Council Members stared at me in awed disbelief. I was so angry, and I wanted justice. Even if I weren’t alive to see it, justice would be done. Reliving my past had affected me more than I’d realised, because every wound ever inflicted was now torn open. The pain would never leave entirely, but justice for those who’d died would start the process. I was done playing these games. I was Johanna Kozak.
Part-Witch. Blessed by the three-faced goddess.
Part-Supernatural. Beloved of Nyx.
Part-Guardian. Child of the dragon.
Loyal friend to Jayma and Xun.
Wraith in the night.
Heir to House Kozak.
The time had come where I would no longer be unseen. I would no longer stand to be unheard. No. I would roar.
“You have been tried, and found guilty of the murder of the half-Witch Jayma Balewa. You will be hanged in two days’ time, as punishment for your crime.” Aldric’s voice rang through the room, but it had faltered, didn’t hold the command he’d hoped for, and we both knew it.
The Council was in a frenzy, murmurs of the dragon and the three-faced goddess even trickling down to my lonely chair. I wasn’t just fuelling a rebellion of half-breeds and mistreated creatures. I was doing what I did best, fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Spreading hope.
Alec looked on, open-mouthed and still as stone. I’d lit the match; the murmuring Council was my kindling. His empire would burn. Even Anastasia had lost her triumphant grin as she watched Aldric try to calm the Council and discount everything I’d said.
“Take her back to her cell,” she commanded.
The room silenced itself, eyes turning on Anastasia as if they could sense the growing wrath from the demon hiding behind her beauty. Even Aldric gave her a sideways glance.
Alec nodded stiffly and marched to where I stood, glaring defiantly at them. He gripped my arm and spun me, forcing me towards the door at such a swift pace I could barely keep up. The guards flanked him as he guided me into a lift. “I’ll take her from here.”
Neither of us spoke until the cell door was firmly closed behind us.
My voice trembled as I said, “Alec, I—”
“Don’t,” he pleaded. “Don’t say anything you don’t want them to hear.”
I said more firmly, “You haven’t heard the rest of my story.”
If I was going to die in two days, I didn’t want to spend my final hours alone, as unfair as it was to both of us to continue our bizarre friendship, knowing he may be the one forced to kick the chair. Anastasia would do it to hurt him as much as me.
And it will.
His shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head. With a resigned sigh, he turned and sat on the bench. His usually bright eyes had faded to a dull bronze, despite the harsh, white light of my cell. He nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line, and I joined him, taking up my usual position. Ignoring the tension between us, I spoke of what it was like to grow up with Jayma.
“We met at fourteen. Me and Jayma. I was running from the raff of the London Black Market when she saw me. It was the oddest thing to find a half-breed as outspoken as she, and headstrong too.” I smiled at the thought of her.
“She literally pulled me off the street and gave me a room. I stayed at that house until the day they carted me off here to die. I miss it, but in some ways, I think this is better. It wouldn’t be the same without her.” I trailed off as Alec relaxed back into the wall. He wasn’t her, or even Oliver, but he was all I had in this sterile cell. I would cling to that until the moment I left this world for good.
“Tell me about her,” he said, loosing a tense breath.
“She fought for what we believed in even though it got her in trouble with—” I cut myself off abruptly. I couldn’t mention Oliver in this, because he was still here. I could still protect him with my silence. “With her masters. House Fortier is kinder than most, but even they struggled with having an outspoken servant. Unlike the rest of the Council, they paid her for work. It wasn’t much, but it put a roof over our heads, and that was enough.” I smiled fondly at the memory of her coming home with a coin purse full of gold. We ate fresh fish and chips, smothered in gravy, for three weeks straight.
“They’re known to be generous masters,” he said softly. It didn’t take much to guess that the Fortescues didn’t pay him for his servitude.
“Jayma loved with all her heart. The dragon knows she threw caution to the wind when it came to love. She wasn’t reckless, but as a seer, she saw it coming from a mile away and welcomed it with open arms. She knew the sting it would bring, but she always said that a life without love was no life at all. She was the bravest Witch I ever knew.”
Bravest person I ever knew.
Jayma was the sun to my moon. We balanced each other in every way. While she preferred to do the diplomatic thing and recruited others, I got the job done in the shadow of a moonless night. It worked that I had no official connection to House Fortier. She was their servant, and Oliver their son, but I was a shadow, nothing to them, and could pass unseen, causing them no trouble.
&
nbsp; “The thing is, before Jayma, I was nothing. Xun’s death hit me so hard I had trouble making new friends. With her, I had a friend who understood without me having to say a thing. We were best friends before we’d even met, and she knew everything about me—and she was such an open book, it didn’t take me long to get to know her.” I paused, recalling the number of nights she’d come down to me sitting alone by the fire. Sleep was harder to come by some nights than others, some deaths harder to push from your mind. Jayma simply went about it the same way she did everything, with a cup of tea and a hot soak.
Two years ago…
“Same dream?” she asked, handing me a mug of steaming tea.
I stared into the fire, a curt nod my only answer. She settled on the floor beside me and waited for me to open up. She never pushed. Didn’t pry. I loved how everything was always on my terms with Jayma.
“It doesn’t get any easier,” I murmured after a few, quiet minutes. “It’s been years, and I can still smell the blood, still feel it drying on my hands.”
I placed my mug on the hearth, as she pulled me into her arms. “The memories become quieter over time.”
“It’s been years…” I repeated, settling my head on her shoulder. “How much longer do I have to suffer this?”
Jayma shook her head. “I don’t know, Jo. I think it’s part of who you are, and you can’t change that. Your gifts are balanced by your sense of honour, your love for your friends. It’s a double-edged sword.”
“How do you manage?” I asked, pulling away, rubbing the tears from my eyes with my sleeve. “How do you handle it?”
Jayma thought for a moment, handing me back my tea, and said, “I lock them away. I have my moments, I bring them out and deal them, and then I put them back.”
I smiled, weakly. Typical of Jayma to have such a methodical way of handling her grief. I only wished I could do the same.
Trial by Heist Page 6