“What use will my words be?” she asked, and he looked at her gravely.
“You may give us something that we can use to find and destroy the monster who attacked you,” Morgan said softly. “This monster, the attack last night was not a new thing, Yvonne. He's attacked and killed several people over the past few months.”
“I've not heard anything of this,” she said, her eyes round.
“Mostly he was taking his victims from the rat tribes of the city. The rat tribes, well, they stand apart, and they don't tell the rest of us much. It was only when others were attacked that the judges of Harrispont started to realize what was going on.”
When Yvonne hesitated, he squeezed her hand softly.
“Please, perhaps something you know would save a life. Perhaps we can find this thing before it kills another person, before another family needs to suffer a loss.”
his words cut her straight to her heart, and almost against her will, she found herself nodding.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will.”
“Thank you.”
Those were the only words he said, but the soft smile he gave her, full of pride and adoration, warmed her entire body.
***
Deep in the forest outside of Harrispont, hidden by expert camouflage from satellites and surrounded by seeming impenetrable brush, was the meeting hall of the Harrispont shapechangers. It was a long wooden building that had stood in the same spot and in the same shape for the past few generations, and though it was often used as a place of celebration and joy, at the moment, it had the air of a war council.
“I should have flown over the trees,” Yvonne muttered, freeing her wrapped skirt from yet another bramble, and Morgan grinned at her.
“I would have missed you,” he said, his eyes wide and teasing, and she swiped playfully at his shoulder.
They were the first ones there, arriving just as the sun dipped below the horizon, but they were soon followed by others.
First was Carson Keynes, as tall as Morgan but slender and pale where her own weretiger was dark. He was one of Harrispont's more famous judges, and Yvonne looked at him curiously. She knew that he had recently taken a human wife, but there was no sign of her to be found. He was generally thought to be a rather humorless man, but she thought she detected a hint of humor around those firm lips. In another time, she might have been interested, but another glance at Morgan made her decide abruptly that she definitely now preferred her men larger and stockier.
Yvonne watched as a grizzly bear, slightly patchy in its summer coat, eased like a shadow from the bramble and flowed from beast into woman. Kiya Devereaux was a big woman, as tall as Yvonne herself, and broad-shouldered as well. She was smiling, dressed in a pristine white skirt and white camisole that contrasted beautifully with her black skin, and her long coils of hair fell to mid back and were held back by a white headscarf.
Yvonne only recognized the third judge by reputation. He was shorter than the other three, with a stern look and a mouth that looked like it would never smile. One moment the space was empty, and the next, he was there, an elegant man in an expensive suit folding out of an enormous golden eagle. When he stood, brushing off his immaculate suit, he gazed around him with a vision that was sharp enough to pierce glass, and Yvonne knew that she was looking at Benedict Halfdansson, the master of the wind.
There were other people coming along as well, and slowly the hall filled. There was an enormous table that could seat well over sixty people, and there were more than that lining the walls. Yvonne realized that she was feeling more and more nervous as people filed in, and Morgan seemed to sense that. He allowed her to press against his side, and when a pair of coyote brothers that she knew eyed her curiously, he placed an arm over her shoulders. It was not possessive, but protective, and she was silently grateful for his protection.
Carson Keynes called the meeting to order, his loud clarion voice bring instant order to the murmuring room. At the head of the table, the white wolf who was often known by his clan name of Icefang was a commanding figure, and Yvonne could feel the room quiet to his authority.
“The rat tribe has recently come to us with news of murder,” he said, his voice stern. “No less than eight of their number have been struck down, slain and mutilated, and just as we were made aware of this tragedy, the killer has struck closer to home. Emile LaBelle, a lapine man, and Charles Corwin, in his stag form, were killed. Both Kiya and I have investigated these killings, and that, along with the testimony of the rat tribes, have led us to believe that this is the work of one killer, of one man who is preying on the weakest among us.”
Yvonne prickled a little at his use of the word weakest. There was a hierarchy, unspoken but present and real, among the shapechangers. The predators held the highest rank, while the rat tribes and those who changed into animals of prey, like rabbits and deer, were considered beneath, citizens to be protected, but not heeded as well as they should have been, perhaps. She herself transformed into a trumpeter swan, hardly helpless or meek, but she had met enough coyote-blooded and wolf-blooded men who had thought her easy, easy to take, easy to bully. She had taught them better, but she always resented having to do so.
“We have requested the help of Morgan Durrant to round out our numbers in this matter, as we have been lacking in our ranks for some time, and of course, you shall give him the same respect that you give Kiya, myself, or Benedict.
Morgan stood to acknowledge the curious looks. He could hold authority of course under his own powerful claws and his command over the element of fire, but now, shown to the shapechanger community of Harrispont, he could rule with a word as well.
“One among our number was attacked last night,” Morgan said. “She should share her testimony for us.”
He offered his hand to Yvonne, and she stood next to him. She was afraid that her voice would come out weak and frail in the face of all of the predatory eyes on her, but instead it came out clear and strong. She related the events of the night before, where she had swum in the water and then been attacked by something powerful and terrifyingly strong. She felt the support of the other shapechangers who changed into prey animals as she described her frantic sprint through the forest, aware that if she paused to shift to her flying form that she would have been caught and killed. She warmed as she described her rescue by Morgan, and she grinned when he stepped in to describe the way that she had transformed to beat the assailant around the head with her powerful wings.
When she sat down again, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she looked around.
“Strong enough to fight off Durrant, and sly enough that a sharp-eared swan did not hear him,” mused Kiya. “I confess I do not like the conclusions that I am drawing.”
Morgan shook his head. “I don't like anything that can hit me that hard,” he said, a wry smile on his face, “but this was something else. I've tangled with wolves and bears aplenty in my travels, but this, this was something different again. There was... there was something strange and slippery about the smell of it.”
“Water and fire,” Yvonne blurted out, and she suddenly felt every eye heavy on her again. She could feel some of the more conservative shapechangers, predators all, who disapproved of her interjection, but Kiya nodded, leaning forward with interest.
“Yes, tell us, Miss Desmarais. Everything you tell us might help.”
“We fought, and I smelled the scent of water and fire.”
There was a murmur through the room of confusion. They all had noses that were keener than those of humans, and that was indeed a strange mix of smells to come off of a single beast.
“Perhaps you are mistaken,” said an older bear comfortably, and there was a chorus of agreement.
“She was quite frightened, poor thing,” agreed a coyote girl, and Yvonne's eyes narrowed.
“Maybe she mixed her own scent and that of the new judge,” came an insinuating call, and Yvonne spun to confront the speaker, one
of the coyote brothers who she had turned down months ago.
Before she could unleash the tirade that comment deserved, Morgan had turned around and roared. The ferocious sound thundered through the room and left the speaker suitably cowed, something that the weretiger judge made sure of before he turned his stern golden gaze to the rest of the room.
“I am new, and thus I will be restrained,” he started, “but while I am judge over Harrispont, no witness shall have their testimony dismissed out of hand. Wild stories can be true, and this woman's truth will not be turned away as unimportant. If she says the beast smelled of water and fire, it did. My own nose was full of soot and flame, but when I fight, it always is. Her head was cooler, she remembered and I did not. If I have to speak again in defense of a witness telling us what she heard, it will not go easily for those who spoke out of turn.”
A last glare sent the hapless man with the insinuating comment back against the wall, and satisfied, Morgan sat down, his gaze steady but ready to set fire again at the least provocation.
Kiya pounded her fist on the table, a broad grin her handsome face.
“Well said,” she cried. “So water and fire, what does this mean?”
There were a few shouts back and forth, each theory less likely than the next, and finally, to Yvonne's surprise, it was Benedict Halfdansson who spoke. He was notoriously taciturn, but when he spoke, it was with a kind of presence that silenced the room.
“Brandt Noman,” he said. “I fear it is Brandt Noman.”
The room burst into a loud clatter, and while Carson restored order, Morgan edged closer to Yvonne.
“Who is this man?” he asked, his voice soft and low.
“A recluse,” she said. “He's been old and mysterious since I was hatched. All anyone knows is that he is a shapechanger, but if anyone knows what he turns into, they've forgotten or been silenced. He lives in a mansion deep in the forest, and he's known to appear near the water and to produce steam when he is angry.”
“A mystery,” Morgan agreed, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful.
Carson had quieted the room, and when he spoke, it was to dismiss most of the crowd. He reminded them of the dangers that were out there, and that he and the other judges would stay to discuss the best method of figuring out what to do with the new information.
As Yvonne started to follow the rest of the crowd out, Morgan snagged her by the elbow. “Stay,” he said. “I think they will want to know more.”
In a matter of moments, Yvonne found herself alone with four predators. They were not even the coyotes and the foxes she knew a little from the moots, but instead they were the elite among their kind and they were all looking at her.
“Thank you for your testimony,” Carson said sincerely, and she realized that underneath the stern exterior, he seemed quite kind. “You haven't made this easier on us, but it's definitely not your job to make ours simple.”
“Yes,” Kiya agreed. “It has helped, and now I'm afraid you are going to give us more.”
Yvonne nodded, heartened by Morgan's firm grip on her hand, and the judges went round and round, asking her question after question about what had happened. They were sharp and powerful, and they knew that every bit of information could tell them something that had been missing from their understanding before.
She told them the weather, the wind condition, the wind direction, the exact spot she had been in and everything she could remember of her wild flight through the forest. They were kind, but they were exacting and precise, and a half hour later, when they were done, she was left feeling as if she had stepped into the ring with a boxer.
“So it seems that it must be Noman after all,” Kiya said.
Carson nodded. “There's a chance he could even do this as a human,” he admitted. “My old man tangled with him a time or two when I was just a cub, and Noman fought him to a standstill before agreeing to back off of whatever dispute was at hand.”
Yvonne shivered. Carson's father was one of the most famous judges in Harrispont, and something that could put up a fight against his famous jaws and his powers over water and ice was formidable indeed.
“We could stalk him,” Morgan said thoughtfully. “We are, after all, hunters.”
There were murmurs of agreement, but it was Benedict who spoke, his voice sharp and precise as a thrown knife.
“No,” he said, “it is a trap we need.”
Morgan growled, because they all knew what was coming, but Carson was already musing out loud.
“Yes... bait, because that's how you would catch a wolf, or a tiger or a bear or an eagle. He's like us. You couldn't hunt us, but you could trap us.”
“It has to be me, then,” Yvonne said, her voice coming out with a steadiness that shocked even her own ears. “He wanted me before, he might want to... finish the job.”
Morgan shook his head. “Foolishness,” he said, his voice barely below a true roar. “That's far too dangerous for—”
“For what?” she shot back. “A helpless little bird? Morgan, I am no such thing.”
“He nearly killed you before!” Morgan shouted, turning to face her. She should have quailed under his thunderous expression, but instead she leaned into it, her eyes sparking with rage.
“And he didn't. And now you will be there, and other judges as well.”
He drew back like a beast brought to bay, and she pressed her advantage.
“He came after me, Morgan, not you, not Kiya, not Benedict, and not Carson. Do you know what that's like? How it feels to know that there is something out there looking to prey on you, looking to haunt your footsteps and make you afraid?”
He frowned, and Yvonne surged ahead.
“You do not know what it is to be hunted,” she snapped. “Not every night. Not to know that your steps are not safe or that your next flight might be your last. I know, and everything my life has taught me tells me that he will look for me again.”
There was something heartbroken on Morgan's face, as if he had never considered what life for someone without his fangs and his power might be like, but Yvonne spun around to face the other judges.
“You,” she said. “What do you all make of this?”
“I'd ask you if you were sure, but I think I'm too afraid to after what happened to Durrant,” Carson said wryly.
“I simply think it is a shame that judges are not selected from the ranks of swans,” Kiya said with a laugh. “I think this plan is the best we could do.”
Benedict nodded. “Nothing but Durrant's heart gets in the way.” The eagle turned to Morgan. “Can you stand to do this?” he asked. “Can you stand to watch her go into danger? Will you act as a judge and not as a lovelorn man?”
Morgan drew himself up straight, but until Yvonne squeezed his hand, he did not nod.
“I cannot be less brave than she is,” he said at last. “I agree.”
***
The details of the plan were roughed out in short order. It was unnerving for Yvonne, who despite her bravado had never spent anything approaching this much time with people who were associated with the hunters and the killers of the natural world. While a part of her appreciated that they were people like any other, with their own quirks and their own ticks, merits and flaws, there was a part of her that still fluttered a little nervously at everything that was said and every sharp move out of the corner of her eyes. She flinched when Benedict gestured sharply, but she brought herself up short, reminding herself that this was a man who supported her, that wanted the best for their small and vulnerable community.
When the meeting adjourned well past midnight, she was a little wobbly on her feet, but pleased enough. It would be dangerous, but she would be as well protected as it was possible for her to be, and at last even Morgan was convinced of it.
They agreed to set the plan in action the next night, when the moon was almost full and when there would be plenty of light to maneuver by. To her surprise, Carson hugged her as they left.
“You
are brave and you are worthy,” the judge said solemnly. “When this is over, I would like to introduce you to my wife.”
Yvonne smiled at his inference that there would be a time after all of this.
Kiya squeezed her shoulder. “We will feast in victory together, and I will introduce you to my wife as well.”
Benedict, far less companionable than the other judges, merely nodded at her. “It will be well,” he said, disappearing into the dark, and Morgan guided her away.
Yvonne fidgeted outside. Alone with Morgan, she felt at once tired and energized. She had slept, but not enough, and she had eaten before the meeting, but she still felt empty. It was fear for the future that she felt, but it was not only that, and it had more than a little to do with the way that Morgan was gazing at her, his golden eyes both fierce and longing.
“You are not changing my mind about this,” she said, wary about another argument.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” he said, his voice a soft and velvety thing. “I wouldn't take this away from you, not after everything that you have said and seen.
“It is only that you are going into danger, and I wish that there was something, anything I could do to make sure that you will come out of it safely and soundly.”
He took Yvonne in his arms, and she rested her head against his chest. The beat of his heart was slow and steady, different from hers, which like many of the bird folk tended toward a fluttering beat. There was an endless strength there, and love as well, and he was a man she could lose herself with forever.
It struck her with the force of a blow that they might not have forever, that they might not have twenty-four hours left if things went badly for her or for him, and she clutched his shirt in her fists.
“Take me home with you,” she said. “I want nothing more than you right now.”
“I could never deny you that, not ever,” he whispered into her hair, and they walked through the darkness together.
Tales of the Golden Judge: 3-Book Bundle - Books 4-6 Page 4