“Are you suggesting,” the judge’s grandfatherly demeanor melted away. He lost the old story-teller quality and morphed into a mean-looking bastard who used a belt on his kids when they misbehaved; “that a vampire is able to muddle my thoughts and influence me to rule on cases outside the guidance and wisdom of the law?”
“Dumbass,” I couldn’t hide my grin as the government lawyer paled a shade. I didn’t know who the judge was, but he wasn’t a pushover.
“Of course not, Your Honor,” the lawyer babbled.
“If I may, Your Honor,” Marcella stood, and waited for the judge to acknowledge her. “I am indeed a vampire elder with the skills the prosecution suggests. However, I am also a lawyer. I graduated top of my class from Stanford. I passed the California and New York State Bar on the first try. I even aced it. I have every right to be here, and to say that I don’t, is a violation of the New York Bar Associations standards of conduct, half a dozen federal and state laws, as well as common human decency. In twenty-twenty, I thought we’d be beyond such casual racism,” she sat back down with a flourish that showed me a lot of leg.
“Down boy,” I told my dick as it strained against my pants.
The government lawyer sputtered like a stalled jalopy. He was so busy defending his own reputation that he didn’t even have time to defend his motion.
“Your motion is denied,” the judge ruled as he looked over the prosecution’s document. “Your motion doesn’t meet the statutory guidance for dismissal of counsel. A number of the people in this room can do super human things,” the judge was one of them, and judging by his expression, he was proud of it. “Just because someone can do something doesn’t mean negative action should be taken against them. We judge people on what they do, not what they can do; human, supernatural, Fae, we’re all capable of great and terrible things.”
“I like this guy,” I wasn’t stupid enough to meet his eyes again, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t nod in agreement.
“If I may, Your Honor,” Marcella got to her feet again, “we also have a motion and supporting documentation to present the court.”
“The people haven’t even levied charges against . . .”
“This goes directly to the charges, Your Honor,” she interrupted the prosecution, and the judge nodded for her to continue.
I had no idea if this was how court was supposed to go, but if this was how it worked, it was good reality TV. I’d watch a show where the hot lawyer screwed with the government stooge any day of the week. Putting “screw” and Marcella in the same thought made me need to adjust my pants. It was a very confusing kind of day.
“First, we have a motion for dismissal, and supporting documentation,” she held up a hand as the prosecution opened his mouth to object.
“I have sworn affidavits and witness statements directly refuting the prosecution’s charge of assault on a police officer. Those affidavits are from the officers in question who admit that they were not able to identify my client, or anyone else in the car that opened fire on them.”
The judge took the documents to peruse while a copy was handed to the government lawyers. The judge’s eyebrows rose as he read, and he turned his gaze on the prosecution. “Do you care to refute this?”
“You Honor . . .” the government lawyer was clearly off his game now. “We just received these. How can the court expect . . .?”
“This court expects you to be able to provide evidence to the charges you’re bringing. I have those listed as assault on a police officer, and failing to register per the WRA; are those the charges?”
“Yes, Your Honor, but . . .”
“But nothing, counselor,” the judge pierced him with his gaze and the man visibly quivered. “The only evidence you’ve provided is circumstantial and based on a timeline the defense is bound to poke holes in. The defense has sworn testimony from the officers involved in the altercation. Can you, or can’t you, provide more evidence for this charge?”
I could see the government lawyer sweating, and I hoped he got a bad case of swamp ass.
“No, Your Honor,” the prosecution exhaled in defeat.
“Then I will grant the defense’s motion and dismiss that charge,” he banged his gavel, and the Sword of Damocles I didn’t even know was hovering over my head disappeared.
I grinned like an idiot, and tapped my feet in a little jig.
“How do you plead on the charge of violating the WRA by not registering?” the judge moved on.
“Your Honor, may we approach?” Marcella asked, catching both the judge and prosecution by surprise.
The judge paused for a moment to consider, but nodded. Marcella winked at me as she got up and sauntered up to the judge’s raised bench with the prosecution. They were a dozen yards away, but I could hear them perfectly.
“Your Honor, this second charge is a sham,” she started off, guns blazing.
“How dare . . .” the prosecution’s face was beet red, but a glare from the vamp shut him up.
“We all know that failing to register requires premeditated thought and action to avoid registration. You will find in the documentation that the UN itself took several months to even identify Cameron Dupree as a supernatural. In fact, their first tests were negative. My client didn’t try to avoid anything. He had all the required tests done as a child, and they returned negative results. It is true that he is a novel supernatural, but nowhere in his thoughts or actions did he attempt to avoid registering. This is all a terrible misunderstanding that has gotten way out of hand; so, I’m offering a deal.”
“Normally, the prosecution is the one to offer deals, Ms. Caldwell,” the judge stated.
“And normally, I’d wipe the floor with him, but this has all gone on too long,” she replied, which got a chuckle from the judge as they turned to the government lawyer. “My client has been in the custody of the Response Division for the last two and a half days. We will agree for another seventy-two hours of testing. It is my understanding that the medical staff has already taken a number of samples, unwillingly, I might add, from my client. He will submit to all tests willingly for the next three days, and then he will be released. This is a win-win situation,” she stared down the prosecution. “The UN gets their data to classify him, and my client no longer has his rights violated.”
The judge nodded along to her deal. “Counselor?” he asked to the prosecution.
The other lawyer looked spitting mad, and he opened his mouth to say something.
“Of course, if you don’t take the deal, we’ll be filing a lawsuit against the Response Division for excessive use of force. My client was unarmed and had his hands up when your agents shot him. With the public discussion around police procedures in the spotlight throughout the country; I’m sure the UN would just love to join in. Don’t you?”
The lawyer’s mouth snapped shut. He might be royally pissed, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew when he didn’t have a case, and the Director’s attempt to get me to sign on the dotted line had already failed. They’d blown their wad, and there was nothing else they could do.
“Deal,” the prosecution let out a tired breath.
That’s how it ended. A little anticlimactic for daytime television, and everything else I’d been through. They had the paperwork ready in twenty minutes. Marcella gave me the nod of approval, and all I had to do was sign. I’d give the UN three more days. They’d treat me like a human being and not a lab rat. After that, I was free to go back to Las Vegas and see Lilith, Fern, Dani, Xamira, and whoever the hell else I chose.
It was a complete legal victory for me, but Vernon’s words still bounced around my head. “Not now,” I chided myself. Why ruin a good thing with more questions and indecision?
Then there was Marcella. “Always a pleasure, Cam,” her voice dripped sensuality. It was a turn on.
Despite what she’d almost done to me in Reno; she’d just kicked ass and freed me from another round of mechanical jack off. If they needed to examine something in
my asshole this time, thanks to her, I could get a hot nurse to perform the procedure. No more Frank.
That led to some very confused emotions tumbling around my noggin as the bailiff removed my handcuffs. I felt the ball of white-hot light explode at my core, and I grabbed it to feel safe. The judge kept giving me furtive looks, but I ignored him as I was led out of the room and back into UN HQ to do whatever they wanted me to do.
Vernon and Becky met me there. Both didn’t look happy I was free; especially the mountain lion shifter, but they looked resigned to it. That’s the thing with cops. When the judge handed down the ruling, their own sense of honor demanded they abide by the rule of law. On the opposite hand, there was me, who was going to milk it for all it was worth.
“Come on,” Vernon had to stop himself from grabbing my elbow. “We’ve got some more tests to run.”
Chapter 20
“This is nice, isn’t it,” I smiled as I opened the door and found Vernon and Becky waiting for me.
It was the day after my trial – if you could even call it that – and I hadn’t been put into a drug induced sleep. Apparently, the UN HQ boasted just about everything needed to ensure foreign dignitaries had a home away from home. This included a mini-hotel set in their big New York building. It wasn’t much, just a handful of rooms, a concierge, and a cleaning staff; but compared to the subterranean medical clinic, it was a different world.
Despite having a metaphorical weight lifted off my shoulders, and knowing that I wasn’t going to end up in prison covering my butthole in the shower, I didn’t sleep well. There were a lot of things rampaging through my mind. First was fucking Vernon Dud. I hated having the dude in my head, but he’d made some good points; and it was stupid to ignore good points, even if they came from someone or something I didn’t like. In a supernatural world I was rapidly becoming more acquainted with, that was a good way to end up dead.
The question of the cabal leadership being just as sinister as the Fae, or UN Director, was completely valid; and if I was being honest, probably true. There was no way someone like Lark – despite how he’d taken me aside and taught me about my new powers – didn’t have Machiavelli beat every day of the week. Hell, he might have taught the pompous prick everything he knew.
Morgan Le Fey was fucking Morgan Le Fey. The little tidbit about her turning all the knights of the roundtable into ghouls, so they could eternally serve her, wasn’t the most endearing quality in a woman. She scared the piss out of me, but nothing anyone else had on their resume topped the boss.
Venus Venitas was tens of thousands of years old. She’d been immortalized in cultures all over the world as a goddess of love, beauty, and sexuality. There was no doubt in my mind that since the Revelation, there were pagan groups that literally worshiped her. Belief like that went way beyond the power a true ancient immortal had at their disposal. I couldn’t even imagine what Venus had done to survive, become a living legend, or what it took to build one of the strongest supernatural organizations in the world. It would also be stupid to ignore that she’d probably butchered thousands and bathed in their blood to do it. Sacrifice was black magic, but that didn’t mean it didn’t work, and history was full of examples of people sacrificing their own kids to the gods.
That thought made me shiver, and it confused the hell out of me when I compared it to the woman in mom jeans who’d cooked me dinner. She’d taken time out of her incredibly busy schedule to call my parents and tell them I was okay. Megalomaniacs didn’t do stuff like that, or at least I didn’t think they did. She paid me more attention than any other newcomer, and I didn’t know why. Lilith knew I was special, but even then, she’d been willing to trade me on the assumption her mother wanted me. Venus had the fucking Pegasus in her harem. What did I have that topped that?
All those thoughts tumbled around my mind as I tried to get some shuteye. I finally got to sleep a few hours before dawn, but then it was time for the early bird to get the worm and make good on my half of the plea deal.
After the trial, I went through some final medical testing. The docs were all polite, and less distant than last time. They talked and joked with me as they had me activate my Fae gifts so they could test strength, durability, speed, and stuff like that. It was a gold mine of data for them; especially when they didn’t know shit about what the Fae were really capable of. It occurred to me about halfway through the testing that the Fae would be royally pissed I was spilling their secrets. Of course, they were already trying to kill me; so, fuck them.
I even got to know Frank; nice guy, two kids, and a wife who called him every day at lunch. He didn’t talk about shoving his fingers up my ass, and I didn’t ask. I did ask a lot of other questions about the tests they were doing, and the results. He happily answered all of them. It was night and day from being strapped to a table and milked like a well-hung cow.
They’d informed me at the end of the day that all the medical tests were finished. I said bye to Frank and the team, went off to have a sleepless night where I questioned everything I’d gotten myself into, and had a quasi-nightmare where I fucked Marcella. It started with crazy, monkey sex, but she ended up eating my dick at the end. Whatever my subconscious was trying to tell me, I didn’t get it, and now I was facing the two shifters at my doorway.
My plan for them was simple, “Kill them with kindness.”
“You look lovely today, Becky. Vernon, have you been hitting the weights?” I asked with a smile.
“Shut the fuck up,” Becky growled.
“Easy, killer. You have to learn to let go,” I gave her a soulful look. “If you don’t, you’re going to develop a bad case of IBS.”
The mountain lion shifter was literally shaking with rage, and I heard her grinding her teeth into powder; but Vernon put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Quit fucking around, Dupree. Let’s go,” he motioned for me to get moving.
“You know I didn’t have anything to do with your little run in,” I said over my shoulder to Becky. “You can hold a grudge, but all it’s going to do is give you wrinkles; and the stress of it is going to eat away at the lining of your stomach. That’s a shitty way to live.”
A few months ago, I would have been suicidal to talk to a supernatural like that; especially with my back turned. Now, I knew I could take a punch. Coming from her, it would still hurt; but then my lawyers would bury her. Vernon knew that, so he kept his cat on a leash.
“Where are we going today?” I asked as he led me to the elevator.
“We’ve got a little meet and greet set up. It should be . . . illuminating.”
Something about how he finished the sentence made my spidey senses tingle. I steeled myself for whatever it was, and put yesterday behind me. I had firsthand experience with everything going to shit at the drop of a hat.
We rode the elevator in silence. I liked to think the sexual tension between me and Becky was thick enough you could cut it with a steak knife, but if she had a knife, she’d stab me in the heart. The elevator climbed up and up until we had to be on the top floor. If anything was universally true, it was that the most important people always had the penthouse. I was in ratty jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt; not exactly what you want to meet the Secretary General in.
The door dinged and opened to an expansive entry way. Light streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows, plush carpets covered everything, and beautiful, well-dressed people went about their morning business. The whole area screamed power, wealth, and privilege; which might be why several people were giving me the stink eye.
“Follow me,” Vernon pointed to a nearby hallway.
I took a step off the elevator and grunted. “Ow,” I massaged the stitch in my side that sprang up out of nowhere.
“Are you okay?” Becky mocked as she shouldered me aside. “Did we have one too many pancakes this morning?”
“Kill her with kindness,” I reminded myself, but her baby-talk act was fucking annoying.
“I’m good.
Just a little tired from fucking your mom last night,” I grinned. You couldn’t go wrong with a good mom joke.
Becky growled, but didn’t slug me. There were too many people watching. I followed Vernon to the offshoot hallway. Despite the twenty-foot walk, my breathing grew heavy, and when we reached the door, my stomach did a somersault.
“Ugh,” a wet burp worked its way up my throat.
“Maybe the bacon was bad,” I wondered as my stomach rebelled. I like it extra crispy. It looked extra crispy, but you can never be sure.
“Stop fucking around, Dupree,” Becky was bringing up the rear, and she pushed me roughly through the door into the hallway.
“I’m not,” I snapped back, and this time, I tasted the puke in the back of my throat. “I need a bathroom!”
I rushed toward the plaque on the wall that said shitter in twenty different languages. Everything was coming back up, but I had the dignity to hold it in my mouth until I was over the porcelain throne. Then, my whole body heaved in rebellion as I spewed up everything I’d ever eaten.
“Damn, that’s rank,” Vernon and Becky rushed in after me, but quickly backed out as the stench wafted around the small space.
“Are you okay?” there was a touch of concern in the werewolf’s tone.
“Did you guys fucking poison me?” my yell echoed around the bowl I still had my face in. “I’m cooperating with you. There’s no need to pull a Kremlin on me,” I managed before round two came spewing out of me. “Oh no,” my stomach gurgled dangerously. I gasped for air, ripped off my jeans, and got my ass into position before I erupted from the other end.
I felt like my pathetic groan echoed through the whole floor. Everyone could hear me puking and shitting my guts out. Vernon stuck his head in with his nose firmly pinched together. If it was horrible for me, I couldn’t imagine what a shifter smelled.
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